ACT I

Prologue

At the end of the opening waltz, MADAME ARMFELDT is brought on in her wheelchair by her butler, FRID. In her lap is a tray containing a silver cigarette box, a small vase with four yellow bud-roses, and the cards with which she is playing solitaire. She is watched by FREDRIKA ARMFELDT, 13 — a grave, very self-contained and formal girl with the precise diction of the convent-trained.

FREDRIKA: If you cheated a little, it would come out.

MADAME ARMFELDT (Continuing to play): Solitaire is the only thing in life that demands absolute honesty. As a woman who has numbered kings among her lovers, I think my word can be taken on that point.

(She motions to FRID, who crosses down and lights her cigarette)

What was I talking about?

FREDRIKA: You said I should watch.

MADAME ARMFELDT: Watch — what?

FREDRIKA: It sounds very unlikely to me, but you said I should watch for the night to smile.

MADAME ARMFELDT: Everything is unlikely, dear, so don’t let that deter you. Of course the summer night smiles. Three times.

FREDRIKA: But how does it smile?

MADAME ARMFELDT: Good heavens, what sort of nanny did you have?

FREDRIKA: None, really. Except Mother, and the other actresses in the company — and the stage manager.

MADAME ARMFELDT: Stage managers are not nannies. They don’t have the talent.

FREDRIKA: But if it happens — how does it happen?

MADAME ARMFELDT: You get a feeling. Suddenly the jasmine starts to smell stronger, then a frog croaks — then all the stars in Orion wink. Don’t squeeze your bosoms against the chair, dear. It’ll stunt their growth. And then where would you be?

FREDRIKA: But why does it smile, Grandmother?

MADAME ARMFELDT: At the follies of human beings, of course.

The first smile smiles at the young, who know nothing.

(She looks pointedly at FREDRIKA)

The second, at the fools who know too little, like Desirée.

FREDRIKA: Mother isn’t a fool.

MADAME ARMFELDT (Going right on): Um-hum. And the third at the old who know too much — like me.

(The game is over without coming out. Annoyed at the cards, MADAME ARMFELDT scatters them at random, and barks at FRID)

Frid, time for my nap.

FREDRIKA (Intrigued in spite of herself, gazes out at the summer night): Grandmother, might it really smile tonight?

MADAME ARMFELDT: Why not? Now, practice your piano, dear, preferably with the soft pedal down. And as a treat tonight at dinner, I shall tell you amusing stories about my liaison with the Baron de Signac, who was, to put it mildly, peculiar.

(FRID wheels her off and FREDRIKA goes to sit at the piano)

Scene 1

THE EGERMAN ROOMS

Two rooms: the parlor and the master bedroom, indicated on different levels. ANNE EGERMAN, a ravishingly pretty girl of 18, is on the bed. She goes to the vanity table, toys with her hair, and then enters the parlor, HENRIK EGERMAN her stepson, a brooding young man of 19, is seated on the sofa, playing his cello. Beside him on the sofa is a book with a ribbon marker. ANNE looks at HENRIK, then leans over the sofa to get his attention.

ANNE: Oh Henrik, dear, don’t you have anything less gloomy to practice?

HENRIK: It isn’t gloomy, it’s profound.

ANNE (Reaches down, takes HENRIK‘s book, and begins reading from it): “... in discussing temptation, Martin Luther says: ‘You cannot prevent the birds from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from nesting in your hair.’” Oh dear, that’s gloomy too! Don’t they teach you anything at the seminary a little more cheerful?

HENRIK (Grand): A man who’s going to serve in God’s Army must learn all the ruses and stratagems of the Enemy.

ANNE (Sitting, giggling): And which of your professors made that historic statement?

HENRIK (Caught out): Pastor Ericson, as a matter of fact. He says we’re like generals learning to win battles against the devil.

(Her ball of silk falls off her lap)

ANNE: Oh dear, my ball!

(HENRIK bends down to pick up the ball. He stands beside her, obviously overwhelmed by her nearness. ANNE pats her lap)

You can put it there, you know. My lap isn’t one of the Devil’s snares.

(Flushing, HENRIK drops the ball into her lap and moves away from her)

HENRIK: Anne, I was wondering — could we go for a walk?

ANNE: Now?

HENRIK: I’ve so much to tell you. What I’ve been thinking, and everything.

ANNE: Silly Henrik, don’t you realize it’s almost tea-time?

And I think I hear your father.

(She rises, puts down the ball of silk)

I’m sure you’ve made the most wonderful discoveries about life, and I long to talk, but — later.

(FREDRIK enters, followed by PETRA, 21, the charming, easy-going maid)

Fredrik, dear!

HENRIK (Mutters to himself): Later.

ANNE: Look who’s come home to us — holier than ever.

FREDRIK: Hello, son. How was the examination?

HENRIK: Well, as a matter of fact . . .

FREDRIK (Breaking in): You passed with flying colors, of course.

ANNE: First on the list.

HENRIK (Trying again): And Pastor Ericson said...

FREDRIK (Breaking in): Splendid — you must give us a full report. Later.

ANNE: He’d better be careful or he’ll go straight to heaven before he has a chance to save any sinners.

FREDRIK: Don’t tease him, dear.

ANNE: Oh, Henrik likes to be teased, don’t you, Henrik?

Fredrik, do you want your tea now?

FREDRIK: Not now, I think. It’s been rather an exhausting day in Court and as we have a long evening ahead of us, I feel a little nap is indicated.

(He produces theater tickets from his pocket)

ANNE (Grabbing at them, delighted as a child): Tickets for the theater!

FREDRIK: It’s a French comedy. I thought it might entertain you.

ANNE: It’s Woman of the World, isn’t it? With Desirée Armfeldt!

She’s on all the posters! Oh, Fredrik, how delicious!

(To HENRIK, teasing)

What shall I wear? My blue with the feathers —

(FREDRIK pours water)

genuine angel’s feathers — ? Or the yellow? Ah, I know. My pink, with the bosom. And Henrik, you can do me up in the back.

(She goes into the bedroom)

FREDRIK: I’m sorry, son. I should have remembered you were coming home and got a third ticket. But then perhaps a French comedy is hardly suitable.

(FREDRIK takes a pill)

HENRIK (Outburst): Why does everyone laugh at me? Is it so ridiculous to want to do some good in this world?

FREDRIK: I’m afraid being young in itself can be a trifle ridiculous. Good has to be so good, bad so bad. Such superlatives!

HENRIK: But to be old, I suppose, is not ridiculous.

FREDRIK (Sigh): Ah, let’s not get into that. I love you very much, you know. So does Anne — in her way. But you can’t expect her to take your mother’s place. She’s young too; she has not yet learned . . .

HENRIK: ... to suffer fools gladly?

FREDRIK (Gentle): You said that, son. Not I.

ANNE: Fredrik!

(As FREDRIK moves into the bedroom, HENRIK picks up his book and reads. ANNE is sitting on the bed, buffing her nails)

You were sweet to think of the theater for me.

FREDRIK: I’ll enjoy it too.

ANNE: Who wouldn’t — when all the posters call her The One And Only Desirée Armfeldt?

(FREDRIK begins to try to kiss her. She rattles on)

I wonder what it would feel like to be a One and Only!

The One and Only — Anne Egerman!

(She leaves FREDRIK on the bed and moves to the vanity table. As aware as he is of her rejection)

Poor Fredrik! Do I still make you happy? After eleven months? I know I’m foolish to be so afraid — and you’ve been so patient, but, soon — I promise. Oh, I know you think I’m too silly to worry, but I do ...

(As FREDRIK looks up to answer, she gives a little cry)

Oh no! For heaven’s sakes, can that be a pimple coming?

(FREDRIK, deflated, begins to sing as he undresses)

FREDRIK:

Now, as the sweet imbecilities
Tumble so lavishly
Onto her lap . . .

ANNE: Oh Fredrik, what a day it’s been! Unending drama!

While Petra was brushing my hair, the doorbell . . .

(Throughout the song, she continues chattering in pantomime when not actually speaking)

FREDRIK:

Now, there are two possibilities:
A, I could ravish her,
B, I could nap.

ANNE: ... that grumpy old Mrs. Nordstrom from next door.

Her sister’s coming for a visit . . .

FREDRIK:

Say it’s the ravishment, then we see
The option
That follows, of course:

ANNE: ... do hope I’m imperious enough with the servants.

I try to be. But half the time I think they’re laughing at me...

FREDRIK:

A, the deployment of charm, or B,
The adoption
Of physical force.

Now B might arouse her,
But if I assume
I trip on my trouser
Leg crossing the room . . .

Her hair getting tangled,
Her stays getting snapped,
My nerves will be jangled,
My energy sapped . . .

Removing her clothing
Would take me all day
And her subsequent loathing
Would turn me away —
Which eliminates B
And which leaves us with A.

ANNE: Could you ever be jealous of me? ...

FREDRIK:

Now, insofar as approaching it,
What would be festive
But have its effect?

ANNE: Shall I learn Italian? I think it would be amusing, if the verbs aren’t too irregular . . .

FREDRIK:

Now, there are two ways of broaching it:
A, the suggestive
And B, the direct.

ANNE: ... but then French is a much chic-er language. Everyone says so. Parlez-vous Français? ...

FREDRIK:

Say that I settle on B, to wit,
A charmingly
Lecherous mood . . .

 

A, I could put on my nightshirt or sit
Disarmingly,
B, in the nude . . .
That might be effective,

My body’s all right,
But not in perspective
And not in the light...

I’m bound to be chilly
And feel a buffoon,
But nightshirts are silly
In midafternoon ...

Which leaves the suggestive,
But how to proceed?
Although she gets restive,
Perhaps I could read...

In view of her penchant
For something romantic,
De Sade is too trenchant
And Dickens too frantic,
And Stendhal would ruin
The plan of attack,
As there isn’t much blue in
The Red and the Black.

De Maupassant’s candor
Would cause her dismay.
The Brontës are grander
But not very gay.
Her taste is much blander,
I’m sorry to say,
But is Hans Christian Ander-
Sen ever risque?
Which eliminates A.

(Exits upstage)

ANNE: And he said, “You’re such a pretty lady!” Wasn’t that silly? ...

FREDRIK (As he walks back on in nothing but his long underwear):

Now, with my mental facilities
Partially muddied
And ready to snap . . .

ANNE (At the jewel box now): ... I’m sure about the bracelet.

But earrings, earrings! Which earrings? ...

FREDRIK:

Now, though there are possibilities
Still to be studied,
I might as well nap . . .

ANNE: Mother’s rubies? ... Oh, the diamonds are — Agony!

Iknow...

FREDRIK (Getting into bed):

Bow though I must
To adjust
My original plan . . .

ANNE: Desirée Armfeldt — I just know she’ll wear the most
glamorous gowns! ...

FREDRIK:

How shall I sleep
Half as deep
As I usually can? ...

ANNE: Dear, distinguished old Fredrik!

FREDRIK:

When now I still want and/or love you,
Now, as always,
Now,
Anne?

(FREDRIK turns over and goes to sleep. They remain frozen. PETRA enters the parlor)

PETRA: Nobody rang. Doesn’t he want his tea?

HENRIK (Still deep in book): They’re taking a nap.

PETRA (Coming up behind him, teasingly ruffling his hair): You smell of soap.

HENRIK (Pulling his head away): I’m reading.

PETRA (Caressing his head): Do those old teachers take a scrubbing brush to you every morning and scrub you down like a dray horse?

(Strokes his ear)

 

HENRIK (Fierce): Get away from me!

PETRA (Jumping up in mock alarm): Oh what a wicked woman I am! I’ll go straight to hell!

(Starting away, she goes toward the door, deliberately wing-gling her hips)

HENRIK (Looking up, even fiercer): And don’t walk like that!

PETRA (Innocent): Like — what?

(Wiggles even more)

Like this?

HENRIK (Pleadingly): Stop it. Stop it!

(He rises, goes after her, clutches her, and starts savagely, clumsily, to kiss her and fumble at her breasts. She slaps his hand)

PETRA: Careful!

(Breaks away)

That’s a new blouse! A whole week’s wages and the lace extra!

(Looks at him)

Poor little Henrik!

(Then affectionately pats his cheek)

Later! You’ll soon get the knack of it!

(She exits. HENRIK puts down the book, gets his cello and begins to sing, accompanying himself on the cello)

HENRIK:

Later . . .
When is later? ...
All you ever hear is “Later, Henrik! Henrik, later . . .”

“Yes, we know, Henrik.
Oh, Henrik —
Everyone agrees, Henrik —
Please, Henrik!”
You have a thought you’re fairly bursting with,
A personal discovery or problem, and it’s
“What’s your rush, Henrik?
Shush, Henrik —
Goodness, how you gush, Henrik —
Hush, Henrik!”
You murmur,
“I only . . .
It’s just that...
For God’s sake!”
“Later, Henrik . . .”

“Henrik” ...
Who is “Henrik”? ...
Oh, that lawyer’s son, the one who mumbles —
Short and boring,
Yes, he’s hardly worth ignoring
And who cares if he’s all dammed —

(Looks up)

— I beg your pardon —
Up inside?
As I’ve
Often stated,
It’s intolerable
Being tolerated.
“Reassure Henrik,
Poor Henrik.
Henrik, you’ll endure
Being pure, Henrik.”
Though I’ve been born, I’ve never been!
How can I wait around for later?

I’ll be ninety on my deathbed
And the late, or rather later,
Henrik Egerman!
Doesn’t anything begin?

(ANNE, in the bedroom, gets up from the vanity table and stands near the bed, singing to FREDRIK)

ANNE:

Soon, I promise.
Soon I won’t shy away,
Dear old —

(She bites her lip)

Soon. I want to.
Soon, whatever you say.
Even now,
When you’re close and we touch,
And you’re kissing my brow,
I don’t mind it too much.
And you’ll have to admit
I’m endearing,
I help keep things humming,
I’m not domineering,
What’s one small shortcoming?
And think of how I adore you,
Think of how much you love me.
If I were perfect for you,
Wouldn’t you tire of me
Soon,
All too soon?
Dear old —

(The sound of HENRIK’s cello. FREDRIK stirs noisily in bed. ANNE goes into the parlor)

Henrik! That racket! Your father’s sleeping!

(She remains, half-innocent, half-coquettish, in her negligee. For a second, ANNE watches him. She closes her nightgown at the neck and goes back into the bedroom)

ANNE (Back at the bed):

Soon —

HENRIK:

“Later” ...

ANNE:

I promise.

HENRIK:

When is “later?”

(Simultaneously)

ANNE:	HENRIK:
Soon	“Later, Henrik, later.”
I won’t shy Away,	All you ever hear is, “Yes, we know, Henrik, oh, Henrik,
Dear old —	Everyone agrees, Henrik, please, Henrik!”

(FREDRIK stirs. Simultaneously)

ANNE:
Soon.	HENRIK:	FREDRIK:
I want to.	“Later” ...	Now,
	When is “later”?	As the sweet imbecilities
	All you ever	Trip on my trouser leg,
Soon,
	Hear is
Whatever you
Say.	“Later, Henrik,
		Stendhal eliminates
	Later.”	A,
	As I’ve often
	Stated:	But
	When?	When?
Even	Maybe	Maybe
Now,
When you’re dose	Soon, soon	Later.
And we touch	I’ll be ninety
	And
And you’re kissing	Dead.	When I’m kissing
My brow,		Your brow
I don’t mind it	I don’t mind it	And I’m stroking your head,
Too much,	Too much,
		You’ll come into my bed.
And you’ll have to admit	Since I have to Admit	And you have to Admit
I’m endearing,	I find peering	I’ve been hearing
I help
Keep things	Through life’s	All those tremulous cries
Humming, I’m	Gray windows
	Impatiently	Patiently,
Not domineering,	Not very cheering.	Not interfering
What’s one small	Do I fear death?	With those tremulous thighs.
Shortcoming?	Let it
And	Come to me	Come to me
Think of how	Now,	Soon,
I adore you,
Think of how	Now,	Soon,
Much you love me.
If I were perfect	Now,	Soon,
For you,
Wouldn’t you tire	Now.	Soon.
Of me
Later?	Come to me	Come to me
	Soon. If I’m	Soon,
	Dead,
We will,	I can
Later.	Wait.	Straight to me, never mind
	How can I	How.
We will...	Live until	Darling,
Soon.	Later?	Now —
		I still want and/ or
	Later...	Love
		You,
Soon.
		Now, as
	Later...	Always,
Soon.		Now,
		(He does a kiss)
		Desirée.

(ANNE stares out, astonished, as the lights go down and the bedroom and parlor roll off. FREDRIKA, still at the piano, is playing scales)

FREDRIKA (Sings):

Ordinary mothers lead ordinary lives:
Keep the house and sweep the parlor,
Cook the meals and look exhausted.
Ordinary mothers, like ordinary wives,
Fry the eggs and dry the sheets and
Try to deal with facts.

Mine acts.

(DESIRÉE sweeps on with MALLA, her maid, in tow. MALLA carries a wig box, suitcase, and parasol)

DESIREE (As FREDRIKA reads a letter from her):

Darling, I miss you a lot
But, darling, this has to be short
As Mother is getting a plaque
From the Halsingborg Arts Council
Amateur Theatre Group.
Whether it’s funny or not,
I’ll give you a fuller report
The minute they carry me back
From the Halsingborg Arts Council
Amateur Theatre Group...
Love you . . .

(The QUINTET appears)

QUINTET:

Unpack the luggage, la la la
Pack up the luggage, la la la
Unpack the luggage, la la la
Hi-ho, the glamorous life!

MRS. SEGSTROM:

Ice in the basin, la la la

MR. ERLANSON:

Cracks in the plaster, la la la

MRS. ANDERSSEN:

Mice in the hallway, la la la

ALL THE QUINTET:

Hi-ho, the glamorous life!

MEN:

Run for the carriage, la la la

WOMEN:

Wolf down the sandwich, la la la

ALL THE QUINTET:

Which town is this one? La la la
Hi-ho, the glamorous life!

(FRID wheels MADAME ARMFELDT onstage)

MADAME ARMFELDT:

Ordinary daughters ameliorate their lot,
Use their charms and choose their futures,
Breed their children, heed their mothers.
Ordinary daughters, which mine, I fear, is not,
Tend each asset, spend it wisely
While it still endures . . .

Mine tours.

DESIRÉE (As MADAME ARMFELDT reads a letter from her):

Mother, forgive the delay,
My schedule is driving me wild.
But, Mother, I really must run,
I’m performing in Rottvik,
And don’t ask where is it, please.
How are you feeling today
And are you corrupting the child?
Don’t. Mother, the minute I’m done
With performing in Rottvik,
I’ll come for a visit

 

And argue.

MEN:

Mayors with speeches, la la la

WOMEN:

Children with posies, la la la

MEN:

Half-empty houses, la la la

ALL THE QUINTET:

Hi-ho, the glamorous life!

MRS. NORDSTROM:

Cultural lunches,

ALL THE QUINTET:

La la la

MRS. ANDERSSEN:

Dead floral tributes,

ALL THE QUINTET:

La la la

MR. LINDQUIST :

Ancient admirers,

ALL THE QUINTET:

La la la
Hi-ho, the glamorous life!

FREDRIKA:

Mother’s romantic, la la la

MADAME ARMFELDT:

Mother’s misguided, la la la

DESIRÉE:

Mother’s surviving, la la la
Leading the glamorous life!

(Holds up a mirror)

Cracks in the plaster, la la la
Youngish admirers, la la la
Which one was that one? La la la
Hi-ho, the glamorous life!

DESIRÉE and QUINTET:

Bring up the curtain, la la la
Bring down the curtain, la la la
Bring up the curtain, la la la
Hi-ho, the glamorous . . .
Life.

Scene 2

STAGE OF LOCAL THEATER

The show curtain is down. Two stage boxes are visible. Sitting in one are MR. LINDQUIST, MRS. NORDSTROM, and MR. ERLANSON. ANNE and FREDRIK enter and speak as they walk to their box.

ANNE: Does she look like her pictures?

FREDRIK: Who, dear?

ANNE: Desirée Armfeldt, of course.

FREDRIK: How would I know, dear?

ANNE (Pause): I only thought . . .

FREDRIK: You only thought — what?

ANNE: Desirée is not a common name. I mean, none of your typists and things are called Desirée, are they?

FREDRIK: My typists and things in descending order of importance are Miss Osa Svensen, Miss Ona Nilsson, Miss Gerda Bjornson, and Mrs. Amalia Lindquist.

(A PAGE enters, and knocks three times with the staff he is carrying. The show curtain rises revealing the stage behind it, a tatty Louis XIV “salon, ” as PAGE exits. For a moment it is empty. Then two LADIES, in rather shabby court costumes, enter)

FIRST LADY (MRS. SEGSTROM): Tell me something about this remarkable Countess, Madame.

SECOND LADY (MRS. ANDERSSEN): I shall try as best I can to depict the personality of the Countess, Madame, although it is too rich in mysterious contradictions to be described in a few short moments.

FIRST LADY: It is said that her power over men is most extraordinary.

SECOND LADY: There is a great deal of truth in that, Madame, and her lovers are as many as the pearls in the necklace which she always wears.

FIRST LADY: Your own husband, Madame, is supposed to be one of the handsomest pearls, is he not?

SECOND LADY: He fell in love with the Countess on sight. She took him as a lover for three months and after that I had him back.

FIRST LADY: And your marriage was crushed?

SECOND LADY: On the contrary, Madame! My husband had become a tender, devoted, admirable lover, a faithful husband and an exemplary father. The Countess’s lack of decency is most moral.

(The PAGE re-enters)

PAGE: The Countess Celimène de Francen de la Tour de Casa.

(The COUNTESS — DESIRÉE — makes her sensational entrance. A storm of applause greets her. FREDRIK claps. ANNE does not as she glares at the stage. During the applause, DESIRÉE makes a deep curtsey, during which, old pro that she is, she cases the house. Her eye falls on FREDRIK. She does a take and instantly all action freezes)

MR. LINDQUIST (Sings):

Remember?

MRS. NORDSTROM (Sings):

Remember?

(MR. LINDQUIST and MRS. NORDSTROM leave the stage box) The old deserted beach that we walked —Remember?

MR. LINDQUIST:

Remember?
The café in the park where we talked —
Remember?

MRS. NORDSTROM:

Remember?

MR. LINDQUIST:

The tenor on the boat that we chartered,
Belching “The Bartered
Bride” —

BOTH:

Ah, how we laughed,
Ah, how we cried.

MR. LINDQUIST:

Ah, how you promised and
Ah, how I lied.

MRS. NORDSTROM:

That dilapidated inn —
Remember, darling?

MR. LINDQUIST:

The proprietress’s grin,
Also her glare...

MRS. NORDSTROM:

Yellow gingham on the bed —
Remember, darling?

MR. LINDQUIST:

And the canopy in red,
Needing repair?

BOTH:

I think you were there.

(They return to the stage box and the action continues)

ANNE (Fierce, to FREDRIK): She looked at us. Why did she look at us?

DESIRÉE (To SECOND LADY): Dear Madame Merville, what a charming mischance to find you here this evening.

FREDRIK: I don’t think she looked especially at us.

ANNE:	SECOND LADY:
She did! She peered, then she smiled.	Charming, indeed, dear Celimène.

SECOND LADY: May I be permitted to present my school friend from the provinces? Madame Vilmorac — whose husband, I’m sure, is in dire need of a little expert polishing.

FIRST LADY: Oh, dear Countess, you are all but a legend to me. I implore you to reveal to me the secret of your success with the hardier sex!

ANNE: She smiled at us!

(Grabs FREDRIK’s opera glasses and studies the stage)

DESIRÉE: Dear Madame, that can be summed up in a single word —

ANNE: She’s ravishingly beautiful.

FREDRIK: Make-up.

DESIRÉE: — dignity.

TWO LADIES: Dignity?

ANNE (Turning on FREDRIK) : How can you be sure — if you’ve never seen her?

FREDRIK: Hush!

DESIRÉE (Playing her first-act set speech): Dignity. We women have a right to commit any crime toward our husbands, our lovers, our sons, as long as we do not hurt their dignity. We should make men’s dignity our best ally and caress it, cradle it, speak tenderly to it, and handle it as our most delightful toy. Then a man is in our hands, at our feet, or anywhere else we momentarily wish him to be.

ANNE (Sobbing):	FREDRIK:
I want to go home!	Anne!
ANNE: I want to go home!
FREDRIK: Anne!

(She runs off, FREDRIK following)

Scene 3

THE EGERMAN ROOMS

In the parlor, PETRA, lying on the couch, is calmly rearranging her blouse. HENRIK, in a storm of tension, is pulling on his trousers. On the floor beside them is a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

HENRIK: We have sinned, and it was a complete failure!

(Struggling with his fly buttons)

These buttons, these insufferable buttons!

PETRA: Here, dear, let me.

(She crosses, kneels in front of him, and starts to do up the fly buttons)

Don’t you worry, little Henrik. Just let it rest a while.

(She pats his fly)

There. Now you put on your sweater and do a nice little quiet bit of reading.

(She gets his sweater from the back of a chair and helps him into it. ANNE enters, still crying. She sees HENRIK and PETRA, lets out a sob, and runs into the bedroom. FREDRIK enters. Perfectly calm, to FREDRIK)

My, that was a short play.

FREDRIK: My wife became ill; I had to bring her home.

(He gives HENRIK a look, sizing up the situation approvingly, before following ANNE into the bedroom)

Anne!

(HENRIK starts again toward PETRA, who avoids him)

PETRA: No, lamb. I told you. Give it a nice rest and you’ll be surprised how perky it’ll be by morning.

(She wiggles her way out. FREDRIK has now entered the bedroom; ANNE is no longer visible — as if she had moved into an inner room. In the parlor, HENRIK picks up the champagne bottle and glasses and puts them on the table)

ANNE (Off, calling): Fredrik!

FREDRIK: Yes, dear.

ANNE: Did you have many women between your first wife and me? Sometimes when I think of what memories you have, I vanish inside.

FREDRIK: Before I met you I was quite a different man. Many things were different. Better?

(ANNE comes back into the bedroom)

Worse? Different, anyway.

ANNE: Do you remember when I was a little girl and you came to my father’s house for dinner and told me fairy tales? Do you remember?

FREDRIK: Yes, I remember.

ANNE (Sitting on FREDRIK’s lap): Then you were “Uncle Fredrik” and now you’re my husband. Isn’t that amusing? You were so lonely and sad that summer. I felt terribly sorry for you, so I said: “Poor thing, I’ll marry him.” Are you coming to bed yet?

FREDRIK: Not just yet. I think I’ll go for a breath of fresh air.

ANNE: That wasn’t an amusing play, was it?

FREDRIK: We didn’t see that much of it.

ANNE: I wonder how old that Armfeldt woman can be. At least fifty — don’t you think?

FREDRIK: I wouldn’t say that old.

ANNE: Well, goodnight.

FREDRIK: Goodnight.

(As FREDRIK moves into the parlor, MR. LINDQUIST and MRS. NORDSTROM appear. There is a musical sting and FREDRIK and HENRIK freeze)

MRS. NORDSTROM (Sings):

Remember?

MR. LINDQUIST (Sings):

Remember?

BOTH:

Remember?
Remember?

(FREDRIK unfreezes, clasps his hands together and goes into the parlor. HENRIK looks anxiously at his father)

HENRIK: Is she all right now?

FREDRIK: Oh yes, she’s all right.

HENRIK: It wasn’t anything serious?

FREDRIK: No, nothing serious.

HENRIK: You don’t think — a doctor? I mean, it would be terrible if it was something — serious.

FREDRIK: Pray for her, son. Correction — pray for me. Goodnight.

HENRIK: Goodnight, father.

(FREDRIK exits, and MRS. NORDSTROM and MR. LINDQUIST sweep downstage)

MRS. NORDSTROM (Sings):

The local village dance on the green —
Remember?

MR. LINDQUIST (Sings):

Remember?
The lady with the large tambourine —
Remember?

MRS. NORDSTROM:

Remember?
The one who played the harp in her boa
Thought she was so a-
Dept.

BOTH:

Ah, how we laughed,
Ah, how we wept.
Ah, how we polka’d

MRS. NORDSTROM:

And ah, how we slept.
How we kissed and how we clung —
Remember, darling?

MR. LINDQUIST:

We were foolish, we were young —

BOTH:

More than we knew.

MRS. NORDSTROM:

Yellow gingham on the bed,
Remember, darling?
And the canopy in red —

MR. LINDQUIST:

Or was it blue?

(MRS. NORDSTROM and MR. LINDQUIST are joined by MRS. SEGSTROM, MRS. ANDERSSEN and MR. ERLANSON, who appear downstage)

MRS. SEGSTROM:

The funny little games that we played —
Remember?

MR. ERLANSON:

Remember?
The unexpected knock of the maid —
Remember?

MRS. ANDERSSEN:

Remember?
The wine that made us both rather merry
And, oh, so very
Frank —

ALL:

Ah, how we laughed.
Ah, how we drank.

MR. ERLANSON:

You acquiesced

MRS. ANDERSSEN:

And the rest is a blank.

MR. LINDQUIST:

What we did with your perfume—

MR. ERLANSON:

Remember, darling?

MRS. SEGSTROM:

The condition of the room
When we were through . . .

MRS. NORDSTROM:

Our inventions were unique —
Remember, darling?

MR. LINDQUIST:

I was limping for a week,
You caught the flu ...

ALL:

I’m sure it was —
You.

(They drift off as DESIRÉE’s digs come on)

Scene 4

DESIRÉE’S DIGS

FREDRIK walks on, as DESIRÉE, in a robe, enters, munching a sandwich and carrying a glass of beer.

FREDRIK: They told me where to find you at the theater.

DESIRÉE: Fredrik!

FREDRIK: Hello, Desirée.

(For a moment they gaze at each other)

DESIRÉE: So it was you! I peered and peered and said: “Is it . . . ? Can it be . . . ? Is it possible?” And then, of course, when you walked out after five minutes, I was sure.

FREDRIK: Was my record that bad?

DESIRÉE: Terrible. You walked out on my Hedda in Halsingborg. And on my sensational Phaedra in Ekilstuna.

FREDRIK (Standing, looking at her): Fourteen years!

DESIRÉE: Fourteen years!

FREDRIK: No rancor?

DESIRÉE: Rancor? For a while, a little. But now — no rancor, not a trace.

(Indicating a plate of sandwiches)

Sandwich?

FREDRIK (Declining): Hungry as ever after a performance, I see.

DESIRÉE: Worse. I’m a wolf. Sit down.

(Pouring him a glass of schnapps)

Here. You never said no to schnapps.

(FREDRIK sits down on the love seat. She stands, looking at him)

FREDRIK: About this walking out! I’d like to explain.

DESIRÉE: The girl in the pink dress, I imagine.

FREDRIK: You still don’t miss a thing, do you?

DESIRÉE: Your wife.

FREDRIK: For the past eleven months. She was so looking forward to the play, she got a little overexcited. She’s only eighteen, still almost a child.

(A pause)

I’m waiting.

DESIRÉE: For what?

FREDRIK: For you to tell me what an old fool I’ve become to have fallen under the spell of youth, beginnings, the blank page.

(Very coolly, DESIRÉE opens the robe, revealing her naked body to him)

DESIRÉE: The page that has been written on — and rewritten.

FREDRIK (Looking, admiring): With great style. Some things — schnapps, for example — improve with age.

DESIRÉE: Let us hope that proves true of your little bride.

(She closes the wrapper and stands, still very cool, looking at him)

So you took her home and tucked her up in her cot with her rattle and her woolly penguin.

FREDRIK: Figuratively speaking.

DESIRÉE: And then you came to me.

FREDRIK: I wish you’d ask me why.

DESIRÉE (Dead pan): Why did you come to me?

FREDRIK: For old times’ sake? For curiosity? To boast about my wife? To complain about her? Perhaps — Hell, why am I being such a lawyer about it?

(Pause)

This afternoon when I was taking my nap . . .

DESIRÉE: So you take afternoon naps now!

FREDRIK: Hush! ... I had the most delightful dream.

DESIRÉE: About . . . ?

FREDRIK: ... you.

DESIRÉE: Ah! What did we do?

FREDRIK: Well, as a matter of fact, we were in that little hotel in Malmö. We’d been basking in the sun all day.

DESIRÉE (Suddenly picking it up): When my back got so burned it was an agony to lie down so you . . . ?

FREDRIK: As vivid as ... Well, very vivid! So you see. My motives for coming here are what might be called — mixed.

(DESIRÉE suddenly bursts into laughter. Tentative)

Funny?

DESIRÉE (Suddenly controlling the laughter, very mock solemn):

No. Not at all.

(There is a pause, distinctly charged with unadmitted sex)

FREDRIK (Looking around, slightly uncomfortable): How familiar all this is.

DESIRÉE: Oh yes, nothing’s changed. Uppsala one week.

Orebro the next. The same old inevitable routine.

FREDRIK: But it still has its compensations?

DESIRÉE: Yes — no — no — yes.

FREDRIK: That’s a rather ambiguous answer.

(Pause)

You must, at least at times, be lonely.

DESIRÉE (Smiling): Dear Fredrik, if you’re inquiring about my love life, rest assured. It’s quite satisfactory.

FREDRIK: I see. And — if I may ask — at the moment?

DESIRÉE: A dragoon. A very handsome, very married dragoon with, I’m afraid, the vanity of a peacock, the brain of a pea, but the physical proportions . . .

FREDRIK: Don’t specify the vegetable, please. I am easily deflated.

(They both burst into spontaneous laughter)

Oh, Desirée!

DESIRÉE: Fredrik!

(Another charged pause. FREDRIK tries again)

FREDRIK: Desirée, I . . .

DESIRÉE: Yes, dear?

FREDRIK: I — er ... That is ...

(Loses his nerve again)

Perhaps a little more schnapps?

DESIRÉE: Help yourself.

(FREDRIK crosses to the writing desk, where, next to the schnapps, is a framed photograph of FREDRIKA. He notices it)

FREDRIK: Who’s this?

DESIRÉE (Suddenly rather awkward): That? Oh — my daughter.

FREDRIK: Your daughter? I had no idea . . .

DESIRÉE: She happened.

FREDRIK: She’s charming. Where is she now?

DESIRÉE: She’s with my mother in the country. She used to tour with me, and then one day Mother swept up like the Wrath of God and saved her from me — You never knew my mother! She always wins our battles.

(Wanting to get off the subject)

I think perhaps a little schnapps for me too.

FREDRIK: Oh yes, of course.

(FREDRIK pours a second schnapps. The charged pause again)

DESIRÉE (Indicating the room): I apologize for all this squalor!

FREDRIK: On the contrary, I have always associated you very happily with — chaos.

(Pause)

So.

DESIRÉE: So.

FREDRIK (Artificially bright): Well, I think it’s time to talk about my wife, don’t you?

DESIRÉE: Boast or complain?

FREDRIK: Both, I expect.

(Sings)

She lightens my sadness,
She livens my days,
She bursts with a kind of madness
My well-ordered ways.
My happiest mistake,
The ache of my life:
You must meet my wife.

She bubbles with pleasure,
She glows with surprise,
Disrupts my accustomed leisure
And ruffles my ties.
I don’t know even now
Quite how it began.
You must meet my wife, my Anne.

One thousand whims to which I give in,
Since her smallest tear turns me ashen.
I never dreamed that I could live in
So completely demented,
Contented
A fashion.

So sunlike, so winning,
So unlike a wife.
I do think that I’m beginning
To show signs of life.
Don’t ask me how at my age
One still can grow —
If you met my wife,
You’d know.

DESIRÉE: Dear Fredrik, I’m just longing to meet her. Sometime.

FREDRIK:

She sparkles.

DESIRÉE:

How pleasant.

FREDRIK:

She twinkles.

DESIRÉE:

How nice.

FREDRIK:

Her youth is a sort of present —

DESIRÉE:

Whatever the price.

FREDRIK:

The incandescent — what? — the —

DESIRÉE (Proffering a cigarette):

Light?

FREDRIK (Lighting it):

— Of my life!
You must meet my wife.

DESIRÉE:

Yes, I must, I really must. Now —

FREDRIK:

She flutters.

DESIRÉE:

How charming.

FREDRIK:

She twitters.

DESIRÉE:

My word!

FREDRIK:

She floats.

DESIRÉE:

Isn’t that alarming?
What is she, a bird?

FREDRIK:

She makes me feel I’m — what? —

DESIRÉE:

A very old man?

FREDRIK:

Yes — no!

DESIRÉE:

No.

FREDRIK:

But —

DESIRÉE:

I must meet your Gertrude.

FREDRIK:

My Anne.

DESIRÉE:

Sorry — Anne.

FREDRIK:

She loves my voice, my walk, my mustache,
The cigar, in fact, that I’m smoking.
She’ll watch me puff until it’s just ash,
Then she’ll save the cigar butt.

DESIRÉE:

Bizarre, but
You’re joking.

FREDRIK:

She dotes on —

DESIRÉE:

Your dimple.

FREDRIK:

My snoring.

DESIRÉE:

How dear.

FREDRIK:

The point is, she’s really simple.

DESIRÉE (Smiling):

Yes, that much seems clear.

FREDRIK:

She gives me funny names.

DESIRÉE:

Like — ?

FREDRIK:

“Old dry-as-dust.”

DESIRÉE:

Wouldn’t she just?

FREDRIK:

You must meet my wife.

DESIRÉE:

If I must —

(Looks over her shoulder at him and smiles)

Yes, I must.

FREDRIK:

A sea of whims that I submerge in,
Yet so lovable in repentance.
Unfortunately, still a virgin,
But you can’t force a flower —

DESIRÉE (Rises):

Don’t finish that sentence!
She’s monstrous!

FREDRIK:

She’s frightened.

DESIRÉE:

Unfeeling!

FREDRIK:

Unversed.
She’d strike you as unenlightened.

DESIRÉE:

No, I’d strike her first.

FREDRIK:

Her reticence, her apprehension —

DESIRÉE:

Her crust!

FREDRIK:

No!

DESIRÉE:

Yes!

FREDRIK:

No!

DESIRÉE:

Fredrik ...

FREDRIK:

You must meet my wife.

DESIRÉE:

Let me get my hat and my knife.

FREDRIK:

What was that?

DESIRÉE:

I must meet your wife.

FREDRIK:	DESIRÉE:
Yes, you must.	Yes, I must.

DESIRÉE (Speaks): A virgin.

FREDRIK: A virgin.

DESIRÉE: Eleven months?

FREDRIK: Eleven months.

DESIRÉE: No wonder you dreamed of me!

FREDRIK: At least it was you I dreamed of, which indicates a kind of retroactive fidelity, doesn’t it?

DESIRÉE: At least.

FREDRIK (Suddenly very shy): Desirée, I —

DESIRÉE: Yes?

FREDRIK: Would it seem insensitive if I were to ask you — I can’t say it!

DESIRÉE: Say it, darling.

FREDRIK: Would you . . .

(He can’t)

DESIRÉE: Of course. What are old friends for?

(She rises, holds out her hand to him. He takes her hand, rises, too)

Wait till you see the bedroom! Stockings all over the place, a rather rusty hip-bath — and the Virgin Mary over the headboard.

(They exit, laughing, into the bedroom. MADAME ARMFELDT appears and sings, with one eye on the room)

MADAME ARMFELDT:

At the villa of the Baron de Signac,
Where I spent a somewhat infamous year,
At the villa of the Baron de Signac
I had ladies in attendance,
Fire-opal pendants . . .

Liaisons! What’s happened to them,
Liaisons today?
Disgraceful! What’s become of them?
Some of them
Hardly pay their shoddy way.

What once was a rare champagne
Is now just an amiable hock,
What once was a villa at least
Is “digs.”

What once was a gown with train
Is now just a simple little frock,
What once was a sumptuous feast
Is figs.
No, not even figs — raisins.
Ah, liaisons!

Now let me see . . . Where was I? Oh, yes . . .

At the palace of the Duke of Ferrara,
Who was prematurely deaf but a dear,
At the palace of the Duke of Ferrara
I acquired some position
Plus a tiny Titian . . .

Liaisons! What’s happened to them,
Liaisons today?
To see them — indiscriminate
Women, it
Pains me more than I can say,
The lack of taste that they display.

Where is style?
Where is skill?
Where is forethought?
Where’s discretion of the heart,
Where’s passion in the art,
Where’s craft?
With a smile
And a will,
But with more thought,
I acquired a chateau
Extravagantly o-
Verstaffed.

Too many people muddle sex
With mere desire,
And when emotion intervenes,

The nets descend.
It should on no account perplex,
Or worse, inspire.
It’s but a pleasurable means
To a measurable end.
Why does no one comprehend?
Let us hope this lunacy is just a trend.

Now let me see . . . Where was I? Oh, yes . . .

In the castle of the King of the Belgians
We would visit through a false chiffonier.
In the castle of the King of the Belgians
Who, when things got rather touchy,
Deeded me a duchy . . .

Liaisons! What’s happened to them,
Liaisons today?
Untidy — take my daughter, I
Taught her, I
Tried my best to point the way.
I even named her Desirée.

In a world where the kings are employers,
Where the amateur prevails and delicacy fails to pay,
In a world where the princes are lawyers,
What can anyone expect except to recollect
Liai . . .

(She falls asleep. FRID appears and carries her off. A beat)

CARL-MAGNUS (Off): All right, all right. It’s broken down. So do something! Crank it up — or whatever it is!

(FREDRIK and DESIRÉE appear at the bedroom door, FREDRIK in a bathrobe, DESIRÉE in a negligee)

FREDRIK: What can it be?

DESIRÉE: It can’t!

FREDRIK: The dragoon?

DESIRÉE: Impossible. He’s on maneuvers. Eighty miles away. He couldn’t . . .

CARL-MAGNUS (Off, bellowing): A garage, idiot! That’s what they’re called.

DESIRÉE: He could.

FREDRIK: Is he jealous?

DESIRÉE: Tremendously.

(Suppresses a giggle)

This shouldn’t be funny, should it?

FREDRIK: Let him in.

DESIRÉE: Fredrik . . .

FREDRIK: I am not a lawyer — nor are you an actress — for nothing. Let him in.

(DESIRÉE goes to open the door. CARL-MAGNUS enters, immaculate but brushing imaginary dust from his uniform. He is carrying a bunch of daisies)

DESIRÉE (With tremendous poise): Carl-Magnus! What a delightful surprise!

(Totally ignoring FREDRIK, CARL-MAGNUS bows stiffly and kisses her hand)

CARL-MAGNUS: Excuse my appearance. My new motorcar broke down.

(Hand kiss. Presents the daisies)

From a neighboring garden.

DESIRÉE (Taking them): How lovely! Will you be staying long?

CARL-MAGNUS: I have twenty hours leave. Three hours coming here, nine hours with you, five hours with my wife and three hours back.

(Still ignoring FREDRIK)

Do you mind if I take off my uniform and put on my robe?

DESIRÉE: Well — at the moment it’s occupied.

CARL-MAGNUS (Not looking at FREDRIK): So I see.

DESIRÉE: Mr. Egerman — Count Malcolm.

FREDRIK: Sir.

CARL-MAGNUS (Still ignoring FREDRIK): Sir.

FREDRIK: I feel I should give you an explanation for what may seem to be a rather unusual situation.

(With tremulous aplomb)

For many years, I have been Miss Armfeldt’s mother’s lawyer and devoted friend. A small lawsuit of hers —nothing major, I’m happy to say — comes up in Court tomorrow morning and at the last minute I realized that some legal papers required her daughter’s signature. Although it was late and she had already retired . . .

DESIRÉE: I let him in, of course.

CARL-MAGNUS (Turning the icy gaze on her): And then?

DESIRÉE: Ah, yes, the — the robe. Well, you see . . .

FREDRIK: Unfortunately, sir, on my way to the water-closet —through Miss Armfeldt’s darkened bedroom — I inadvertently tripped over her hip-bath and fell in. Miss Armfeldt generously loaned me this garment while waiting for my clothes to dry in the bedroom.

CARL-MAGNUS: In that case, Miss Armfeldt, I suggest you return to the bedroom and see whether this gentleman’s clothes are dry by now.

DESIRÉE: Yes. Of course.

(She crosses between FREDRIK and CARL-MAGNUS and exits. Pacing, CARL-MAGNUS begins to whistle a military march. FREDRIK counters by whistling a bit of Mozart)

CARL-MAGNUS: Are you fond of duels, sir?

FREDRIK: I don’t really know. I haven’t ever tried.

CARL-MAGNUS: I have duelled seven times. Pistol, rapier, foil. I’ve been wounded five times. Otherwise fortune has been kind to me.

FREDRIK: I must say I’m impressed.

CARL-MAGNUS (Picking up fruit knife): You see this fruit knife? The target will be that picture. The old lady. Her face. Her eye.

(Throws knife, which hits target)

FREDRIK (Clapping): Bravo.

CARL-MAGNUS: Are you being insolent, sir?

FREDRIK: Of course — sir.

(DESIRÉE returns from the bedroom. She is carrying FREDRIK’s clothes in a soaking wet bundle. She has dipped them in the hip-bath)

DESIRÉE: They’re not very dry.

FREDRIK: Oh dear me, they’re certainly not, are they?

CARL-MAGNUS: A predicament.

FREDRIK: Indeed.

CARL-MAGNUS: I imagine, Miss Armfeldt, you could find this gentleman one of my nightshirts.

FREDRIK: Thank you, thank you. But I think I’d prefer to put on my own — er — garments.

(FREDRIK takes the wet bundle from DESIRÉE)

CARL-MAGNUS: Unfortunately, sir, you will not have the time for that.

(To DESIRÉE)

Perhaps you could tell him where to look.

DESIRÉE: Oh yes, yes. The left hand — no, the right hand bottom drawer of the — er —

(Indicating a chest of drawers)

... thing.

(FREDRIK gives her the wet clothes)

FREDRIK (Hesitating, then): Thank you.

(He goes into the bedroom. While he is away, DESIRÉE and CARL-MAGNUS confront each other in near-silence: CARL-MAGNUS whistles a bit of the march that he whistled at FREDRIK earlier. FREDRIK returns in a nightshirt, carrying the robe, which he holds out to CARL-MAGNUS)

Your robe, sir.

(CARL-MAGNUS receives it in silence. FREDRIK puts on the nightcap that goes with the nightshirt)

Well — er — goodnight. Miss Armfeldt, thank you for your cooperation.

(FREDRIK takes the wet bundle from DESIRÉE and exits)

CARL-MAGNUS (Sings, to himself):

She wouldn’t . . .
Therefore they didn’t . . .
So then it wasn’t . . .
Not unless it . . .
Would she?
She doesn’t . . .
God knows she needn’t . . .
Therefore it’s not.

He’d never . . .
Therefore they haven’t . . .
Which makes the question absolutely . . .
Could he?
She daren’t . . .
Therefore I mustn’t . . .
What utter rot!

Fidelity is more than mere display,
It’s what a man expects from life.

(The unit that DESIRÉE is sitting on starts to ride off as CHARLOTTE, seated at her breakfast table, rides on)

Fidelity like mine to Desirée
And Charlotte, my devoted wife.

Scene 5

BREAKFAST ROOM IN MALCOLM COUNTRY HOUSE

Breakfast for one (CHARLOTTE’s) — and an extra coffee cup — stands on an elegant little table. Music under.

CHARLOTTE: How was Miss Desirée Armfeldt? In good health, I trust?

CARL-MAGNUS: Charlotte, my dear. I have exactly five hours.

CHARLOTTE (Dead pan): Five hours this time? Last time it was four. I’m gaining ground.

CARL-MAGNUS (Pre-occupied): She had a visitor. A lawyer in a nightshirt.

CHARLOTTE: Now, that I find interesting. What did you do?

CARL-MAGNUS: Threw him out.

CHARLOTTE: In a nightshirt?

CARL-MAGNUS: In my nightshirt.

CHARLOTTE: What sort of lawyer? Corporation, maritime, criminal — testamentary?

CARL-MAGNUS: Didn’t your sister’s little school friend Anne Sorensen marry a Fredrik Egerman?

CHARLOTTE: Yes, she did.

CARL-MAGNUS: Fredrik Egerman ...

(Sings)

The papers,
He mentioned papers,
Some legal papers
Which I didn’t see there ...
Where were they,
The goddamn papers
She had to sign?

What nonsense!
He brought her papers,
They were important,
So he had to be there ...
I’ll kill him...
Why should I bother?
The woman’s mine!

Besides, no matter what one might infer,
One must have faith to some degree.
The least that I can do is trust in her
The way that Charlotte trusts in me.

(Speaks)

What are you planning to do today?

CHARLOTTE: After the five hours?

CARL-MAGNUS: Right now. I need a little sleep.

CHARLOTTE: Ah! I see. In that case, my plans will have to be changed. What will I do?

(Sudden mock radiance)

I know! Nothing!

CARL-MAGNUS: Why don’t you pay a visit to Marta’s little school friend?

CHARLOTTE: Ah ha!

CARL-MAGNUS: She probably has no idea what her husband’s up to.

CHARLOTTE: And I could enlighten her. Poor Carl-Magnus, are you that jealous?

CARL-MAGNUS: A civilized man can tolerate his wife’s infidelity, but when it comes to his mistress, a man becomes a tiger.

CHARLOTTE: As opposed, of course, to a goat in rut. Ah, well, if I’m back in two hours, that still leaves us three hours. Right?

CARL-MAGNUS (Unexpectedly smiling): You’re a good wife, Charlotte. The best.

CHARLOTTE: That’s a comforting thought to take with me to town, dear. It just may keep me from cutting my throat on the tram.

(CHARLOTTE exits)

CARL-MAGNUS:

Capable, pliable ...
Women, women ...
Undemanding and reliable,
Knowing their place.
Insufferable, yes, but gentle,
Their weaknesses are incidental,
A functional but ornamental

(Sips coffee)

Race.
Durable, sensible ...
Women, women ...
Very nearly indispensable
Creatures of grace.
God knows the foolishness about them,

But if one had to live without them,
The world would surely be a poorer,
If purer,
Place.

The hip-bath ...
About that hip-bath...
How can you slip and trip into a hip-bath?
The papers ...
Where were the papers?
Of course, he might have taken back the papers ...
She wouldn’t ...
Therefore they didn’t ...
The woman’s mine!

(He strides off)

Scene 6

THE EGERMAN ROOMS

In the bedroom, ANNE, in a negligee, sits on the bed while PETRA combs her hair.

ANNE: Oh, that’s delicious. I could purr. Having your hair brushed is gloriously sensual, isn’t it?

PETRA: I can think of more sensual things.

ANNE (Giggles, then suddenly serious): Are you a virgin, Petra?

PETRA: God forbid.

ANNE (Sudden impulse): I am.

PETRA: I know.

ANNE (Astonished and flustered): How on earth can you tell?

PETRA: Your skin, something in your eyes.

ANNE: Can everyone see it?

PETRA: I wouldn’t think so.

ANNE: Well, that’s a relief.

(Giggles)

How old were you when—

PETRA: Sixteen.

ANNE: It must have been terrifying, wasn’t it? And disgusting.

PETRA: Disgusting? It was more fun than the rolly-coaster at the fair.

ANNE: Henrik says that almost everything that’s fun is automatically vicious. It’s so depressing.

PETRA: Oh him! Poor little puppy dog!

ANNE (Suddenly imperious): Don’t you dare talk about your employer’s son that way.

PETRA: Sorry, Ma’am.

ANNE: I forbid anyone in this house to tease Henrik.

(Giggles again)

Except me.

(ANNE goes to the vanity, sits, opens the top of her robe, studies her reflection in the table-mirror)

It’s quite a good body, isn’t it?

PETRA: Nothing wrong there.

ANNE: Is it as good as yours?

(Laughing she turns and pulls at PETRA, trying to undo PETRA’s uniform)

Let me see!

(For a moment, PETRA is shocked. Laughing, ANNE continues; PETRA starts laughing too. They begin struggling playfully together)

If I was a boy, would I prefer you or me? Tell me, tell me!

(Still laughing and struggling they stumble across the room and collapse in a heap on the bed)

You’re a boy! You’re a boy!

PETRA (Laughing): God forbid!

(As they struggle, the front doorbell rings)

 

ANNE (Sits up): Run, Petra, run. Answer it.

(PETRA climbs over ANNE to get off of the bed. As PETRA hurries into the parlor and exits to answer the door, ANNE peers at herself in the mirror)

Oh dear, oh dear, my hair! My— everything!

(PETRA returns to the parlor with CHARLOTTE)

PETRA: Please have a seat, Countess. Madame will be with you in a minute.

(CHARLOTTE looks around the room — particularly at FREDRIK’s picture. PETRA hurries into the bedroom. Hissing)

It’s a Countess!

ANNE: A Countess?

PETRA: Very grand.

ANNE: How thrilling! Who on earth can she be?

(After a final touch at the mirror, she draws herself up with great dignity and, with PETRA behind her, sweeps into the parlor. At the door, she stops and stares. Then delighted, runs to CHARLOTTE)

Charlotte Olafsson! It is, isn’t it? Marta’s big sister who married that magnificent Count Something or Other —and I was a flower girl at the wedding.

CHARLOTTE: Unhappily without a time-bomb in your Lilly-of the-Valley bouquet.

ANNE (Laughing): Oh, Charlotte, you always did say the most amusing things.

CHARLOTTE: I still do. I frequently laugh myself to sleep contemplating my own future.

ANNE: Petra. Ice, lemonade, cookies.

(PETRA leaves. Pause)

CHARLOTTE: Well, dear, how are you? And how is your marriage working out?

ANNE: I’m in bliss. I have all the dresses in the world and a maid to take care of me and this charming house and a husband who spoils me shamelessly.

CHARLOTTE: That list, I trust, is in diminishing order of priority.

ANNE: How dreadful you are! Of course it isn’t. And how’s dear Marta?

CHARLOTTE: Ecstatic. Dear Marta has renounced men and is teaching gymnastics in a school for retarded girls in Bettleheim. Which brings me or ...

(Glancing at a little watch on her bosom)

... rather should bring me, as my time is strictly limited — to the subject of men. How do you rate your husband as a man?

ANNE: I — don’t quite know what you mean.

CHARLOTTE: I will give you an example. As a man, my husband could be rated as a louse, a bastard, a conceited, puffed-up, adulterous egomaniac. He constantly makes me do the most degrading, the most humiliating things like... like...

(Her composure starts to crumble. She opens a little pocketbook and fumbles)

ANNE: Like?

CHARLOTTE: Like ...

(Taking tiny handkerchief from purse, dabbing at her nose and bursting into tears)

Oh, why do I put up with it? Why do I let him treat me like — like an intimidated corporal in his regiment? Why? Why? Why? I’ll tell you why. I despise him! I hate him! I love him! Oh damn that woman! May she rot forever in some infernal dressing room with lipstick of fire and scalding mascara! Let every billboard in hell eternally announce: Desirée Armfeldt in — in — in The Wild Duck!

(Abandons herself to tears)

ANNE: Desirée Armfeldt? But what has she done to you?

CHARLOTTE: What has she not done? Enslaved my husband — enslaved yours ...

ANNE: Fredrik!

CHARLOTTE: He was there last night in her bedroom — in a nightshirt. My husband threw him out into the street and he’s insanely jealous. He told me to come here and tell you ... and I’m actually telling you! Oh what a monster I’ve become!

ANNE: Charlotte, is that the truth? Fredrik was there — in a nightshirt?

(CHARLOTTE sobs)

 

CHARLOTTE: My husband’s nightshirt!

ANNE: Oh I knew it! I was sure he’d met her before. And when she smiled at us in the theater ...

(She begins to weep)

CHARLOTTE: Poor Anne!

(PETRA enters with the tray of lemonade and cookies and stands gazing at the two women in astonishment)

PETRA: The lemonade, Ma’am.

ANNE: (Looking up, controlling herself with a great effort, to the weeping CHARLOTTE): Lemonade, Charlotte?

CHARLOTTE (Looking up too, seeing the lemonade): Lemonade! It would choke me!

(Sings)

Every day a little death
In the parlor, in the bed,
In the curtains, in the silver,
In the buttons, in the bread.
Every day a little sting
In the heart and in the head.
Every move and every breath,
And you hardly feel a thing,
Brings a perfect little death.

He smiles sweetly, strokes my hair,
Says he misses me.
I would murder him right there,
But first I die.
He talks softly of his wars,
And his horses
And his whores,
I think love’s a dirty business!

ANNE: So do I!

CHARLOTTE :	ANNE:
I’m before him On my knees And he kisses me.	So do I ...

CHARLOTTE:

He assumes I’ll lose my reason,
And I do.
Men are stupid, men are vain,
Love’s disgusting, love’s insane,
A humiliating business!

ANNE:

Oh, how true!

CHARLOTTE:

Ah, well ...
Every day a little death,

ANNE:

Every day a little death,

CHARLOTTE:

In the parlor, in the bed,

ANNE:

On the lips and in the eyes,

CHARLOTTE:
In the curtains,
In the silver,	ANNE:
In the buttons,	In the murmurs,
In the bread.	In the pauses,
	In the gestures,
	In the sighs.
Every day a little sting	Every day a little dies,
In the heart
And in the head.
	In the looks and in
	The lies.
Every move and
Every breath,
And you hardly feel a	And you hardly feel a
Thing,	Thing,
Brings a perfect little	Brings a perfect little
Death.	Death.

(After the number, HENRIK enters, taking off his hat and scarf)

HENRIK: Oh, excuse me.

ANNE (Trying to rise to the occasion): Charlotte, this is Henrik Egerman.

HENRIK (Bows and offers his hand): I am happy to make your acquaintance, Madame.

CHARLOTTE: Happy! Who could ever be happy to meet me?

(Holding HENRIK’s hand, she rises and then drifts out. ANNE falls back sobbing on the couch. HENRIK stands, gazing at her)

HENRIK: Anne, what is it?

ANNE: Nothing.

HENRIK: But what did that woman say to you?

ANNE: Nothing, nothing at all.

HENRIK: That can’t be true.

ANNE: It is! It is! She — she merely told me that Marta Olafsson, my dearest friend from school is — teaching gymnastics ...

(Bursts into tears again, falls into HENRIK’s arms. HENRIK puts his arms around her slowly, cautiously)

HENRIK: Anne! Poor Anne! If you knew how it destroys me to see you unhappy.

ANNE: I am not unhappy!

HENRIK: You know. You must know. Ever since you married Father, you’ve been more precious to me than ...

ANNE (Pulls back, suddenly giggling through her tears): ... Martin Luther?

(HENRIK, cut to the quick, jumps up)

HENRIK: Can you laugh at me even now?

ANNE (Rises): Oh dear, I’m sorry. Perhaps, after all, I am a totally frivolous woman with ice for a heart. Am I, Henrik? Am I?

(PETRA enters)

MADAME ARMFELDT (Off): Seven of Hearts on the Eight of Spades.

ANNE (Laughing again): Silly Henrik, get your book, quick, and denounce the wickedness of the world to me for at least a half an hour.

(ANNE runs off as the bedroom and parlor go. HENRIK follows her, as does PETRA, carrying the lemonade tray)

MADAME ARMFELDT (Off): The Ten of Hearts! Who needs the Ten of Hearts!!

Scene 7

ARMFELDT TERRACE

MADAME ARMFELDT is playing solitaire, with FRID standing behind her. FREDRIKA sits at the piano, playing scales.

MADAME ARMFELDT: Child, I am about to give you your advice for the day.

FREDRIKA: Yes, Grandmother.

MADAME ARMFELDT: Never marry — or even dally with — a Scandinavian.

FREDRIKA: Why not, Grandmother?

MADAME ARMFELDT: They are all insane.

FREDRIKA: All of them?

MADAME ARMFELDT: Uh-hum. It’s the latitude. A winter when the sun never rises, a summer when the sun never sets, are more than enough to addle the brain of any man. Further off, further off. You practically inhaled the Queen of Diamonds.

DESIRÉE (Off): Who’s home?

FREDRIKA (Jumps up, thrilled): Mother!

(DESIRÉE enters and FREDRIKA rushes to her, throwing herself into DESIREE’s arms)

DESIRÉE: Darling, you’ve grown a mile; you’re much prettier, you’re irresistible! Hello, Mother.

MADAME ARMFELDT (Continuing to play, unfriendly): And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?

DESIRÉE: I just thought I’d pop out and see you both. Is that so surprising?

MADAME ARMFELDT: Yes.

DESIRÉE: You’re in one of your bitchy moods, I see.

MADAME ARMFELDT: If you’ve come to take Fredrika back, the answer is no. I do not object to the immorality of your life, merely to its sloppiness. Since I have been tidy enough to have acquired a sizeable mansion with a fleet of servants, it is only common sense that my granddaughter should reap the advantages of it.

(To FREDRIKA)

Isn’t that so, child?

FREDRIKA: I really don’t know, Grandmother.

MADAME ARMFELDT: Oh yes you do, dear. Well, Desirée, there must be something you want or you wouldn’t have “popped out.” What is it?

DESIRÉE: All right. The tour’s over for a while, and I was wondering if you’d invite some people here next weekend.

MADAME ARMFELDT: If they’re actors, they’ll have to sleep in the stables.

DESIRÉE: Not actors, Mother. Just a lawyer from town and his family — Fredrik Egerman.

MADAME ARMFELDT: In my day, one went to lawyers’ offices but never consorted with their families.

DESIRÉE: Then it’ll make a nice change, dear, won’t it?

MADAME ARMFELDT: I am deeply suspicious, but very well.

DESIRÉE (Producing a piece of paper): Here’s the address.

MADAME ARMFELDT (Taking it): I shall send ’round a formal invitation by hand.

(She snaps her fingers for FRID. As he wheels her off)

Needless to say, I shall be polite to your guests. However, they will not be served my best champagne. I am saving that for my funeral.

(FREDRIKA runs to DESIRÉE; they embrace, and freeze in that pose. We see, in another area, PETRA bringing ANNE an invitation on a small silver tray)

PETRA:

Look, Ma‘am,
An invitation.
Here, Ma’am,
Delivered by hand.
And, Ma’am,
I notice the station-
Ery’s engraved and very grand.

ANNE:

Petra, how too exciting!
Just when I need it!
Petra, such elegant writing,
So chic you hardly can read it.
What do you think?
Who can it be?
Even the ink —
No, here, let me ...
“Your presence ... ”

Just think of it, Petra!
“Is kindly ... ”
It’s at a chateau!
“Requested ... ”
Et cet’ra, et cet’ra,
“... Madame Leonora Armf — ”
Oh, no!
A weekend in the country!

PETRA:

We’re invited?

ANNE:

What a horrible plot!
A weekend in the country!

PETRA:

I’m excited.

ANNE:

No, you’re not!

PETRA:

A weekend in the country!
Just imagine!

ANNE:

It’s completely depraved.

PETRA:

A weekend in the country!

ANNE:

It’s insulting!

PETRA:

It’s engraved.

ANNE:

It’s that woman,
It’s that Armfeldt ...

PETRA:

Oh, the actress ...

ANNE:

No, the ghoul.
She may hope to
Make her charm felt,
But she’s mad if she thinks
I would be such a fool
As to weekend in the country!

PETRA (Ironically):

How insulting!

ANNE:

And I’ve nothing to wear!

BOTH:

A weekend in the country!

ANNE:

Here!

(ANNE gives the invitation back to PETRA)

The last place I’m going is there!

(ANNE and PETRA exit. DESIRÉE and FREDRIKA unfreeze and begin to move downstage)

DESIRÉE: Well, dear, are you happy here?

FREDRIKA: Yes. I think so. But I miss us.

DESIRÉE: Oh, so do I!

(Pause)

Darling, how would you feel if we had a home of our very own with me only acting when I felt like it — and a man who would make you a spectacular father?

FREDRIKA: Oh I see. The lawyer! Mr. Egerman!

DESIRÉE: Dear child, you’re uncanny.

(DESIRÉE and FREDRIKA freeze once again. FREDRIK, ANNE, and PETRA enter)

PETRA (To FREDRIK):

Guess what, an invitation!

ANNE:

Guess who, begins with an “A” ...
Armfeldt —
Is that a relation
To the decrepit Desirée?

PETRA:

Guess when we’re asked to go, sir —
See, sir, the date there?
Guess where — a fancy chateau, sir!

ANNE:

Guess, too, who’s lying in wait there,
Setting her traps,
Fixing her face —

FREDRIK:

Darling,
Perhaps a change of pace...

ANNE:	FREDRIK:
Oh, no!	A weekend in the country Would be charming, And the air would be fresh.

ANNE:

A weekend
With that woman ...

FREDRIK:

In the country ...

ANNE:

In the flesh!

FREDRIK:

I’ve some business
With her mother.

PETRA:

See, it’s business!

ANNE:

... Oh, no doubt!
But the business
With her mother
Would be hardly the business I’d worry about.

FREDRIK and PETRA:

Just a weekend in the country,

FREDRIK:

Smelling jasmine ...

ANNE:

Watching little things grow.

FREDRIK and PETRA:

A weekend in the country ...

ANNE:

Go!

FREDRIK:

My darling,
We’ll simply say no.

ANNE:

Oh.

(They exit. FREDRIKA and DESIRÉE unfreeze)

FREDRIKA: Oh, Mother, I know it’s none of my business, but ... that dragoon you wrote me about — with the mustache?

DESIRÉE: Oh, him! What I ever saw in him astounds me.

He’s a tin soldier — arms, legs, brain — tin, tin, tin!

(They freeze on the downstage bench. ANNE and CHARLOTTE enter)

ANNE:

A weekend!

CHARLOTTE:

How very amusing.

ANNE:

A weekend!

CHARLOTTE:

But also inept.

ANNE:

A weekend!
Of course, we’re refusing.

CHARLOTTE:

Au contraire,
You must accept.

ANNE:

Oh, no!

CHARLOTTE:

A weekend in the country...

ANNE:

But it’s frightful!

CHARLOTTE:

No, you don’t understand.
A weekend in the country
Is delightful
If it’s planned.
Wear your hair down
And a flower,
Don’t use make-up,

Dress in white.
She’ll grow older
By the hour
And be hopelessly shattered by
Saturday night.
Spend a weekend in the country.

ANNE:

We’ll accept it!

CHARLOTTE:

I’d a feeling
You would.

BOTH:

A weekend in the country!

ANNE:

Yes, it’s only polite that we should.

CHARLOTTE:

Good.

(ANNE and CHARLOTTE disappear DESIRÉE and FREDRIKA unfreeze)

FREDRIKA: Count Malcolm’s insanely jealous, isn’t he? You don’t suppose he’ll come galloping up on a black stallion, brandishing a sword?

DESIRÉE: Oh dear, I hadn’t thought of that. But no, no, thank heavens. It’s his wife’s birthday this weekend —sacred to domesticity. At least we’re safe from him.

(They freeze. CARL-MAGNUS enters; CHARLOTTE follows opposite to meet him)

CARL-MAGNUS:

Well?

CHARLOTTE:

I’ve an intriguing little social item.

CARL-MAGNUS:

What?

CHARLOTTE:

Out at the Armfeldt family manse.

CARL-MAGNUS:

Well, what?

CHARLOTTE:

Merely a weekend,
Still I thought it might am-
Use you to know who’s invited to go,
This time with his pants.

CARL-MAGNUS:

You don’t mean — ?

CHARLOTTE:

I’ll give you three guesses.

CARL-MAGNUS:

She wouldn’t!

CHARLOTTE:

Reduce it to two.

CARL-MAGNUS:

It can’t be ...

CHARLOTTE:

It nevertheless is ...

CARL-MAGNUS:

Egerman!

CHARLOTTE:

Right! Score one for you.

CARL-MAGNUS (Triumphantly):

Aha!

CHARLOTTE (Triumphantly):

Aha!

CARL-MAGNUS (Thoughtfully):

Aha!

CHARLOTTE (Worriedly):

Aha?

CARL-MAGNUS:

A weekend in the country ...
We should try it —

CHARLOTTE:

How I wish we’d been asked.

CARL-MAGNUS:

A weekend in the country ...
Peace and quiet —

CHARLOTTE:

We’ll go masked.

CARL-MAGNUS:

A weekend in the country ...

CHARLOTTE:

Uninvited —
They’ll consider it odd.

CARL-MAGNUS:

A weekend in the country —
I’m delighted!

CHARLOTTE:

Oh, my God.

CARL-MAGNUS:

And the shooting should be pleasant
If the weather’s not too rough.
Happy Birthday,
It’s your present.

CHARLOTTE:

But —

CARL-MAGNUS:

You haven’t been getting out nearly enough,
And a weekend in the country —

CHARLOTTE:

It’s perverted!

CARL-MAGNUS:

Pack my quiver and bow.

BOTH:

A weekend in the country —

CARL-MAGNUS:

At exactly 2:30, we go.

CHARLOTTE:

We can’t.

CARL-MAGNUS:

We shall.

CHARLOTTE:

We shan’t.

CARL-MAGNUS:

I’m getting the car
And we’re motoring down.

CHARLOTTE:

Yes, I’m certain you are
And I’m staying in town.

(ANNE, FREDRIK, and PETRA appear)

CARL-MAGNUS:	ANNE:
Go and pack my suits!	We’ll go.
CHARLOTTE:	PETRA:
I won’t!	Oh, good!
CARL-MAGNUS:	FREDRIK:
My boots!	We will?
Pack everything I own
That shoots.	ANNE:
	We should.
	Pack everything white.
CHARLOTTE:
No!	PETRA:
	Ma’am, it’s wonderful news!
CARL-MAGNUS:
Charlotte!	FREDRIK:
	Are you sure it’s all right?
CHARLOTTE:
I’m thinking it out.	ANNE:
	We’d be rude to refuse.
CARL-MAGNUS:
Charlotte!	FREDRIK:
	Then we’re off!
CHARLOTTE:
There’s no need to shout.	PETRA:
	We are?
CARL-MAGNUS:
Charlotte!	FREDRIK:
	We’ll take the car.
CHARLOTTE:
All right, then,	ALL THREE:
	We’ll bring champagne
BOTH:	And caviar!
We’re off on our way,	We’re off on our way,
What a beautiful day	What a beautiful day
For	For

ALL:

A weekend in the country,
How amusing,
How delightfully droll.
A weekend in the country
While we’re losing our control.
A weekend in the country,
How enchanting
On the manicured lawns.
A weekend in the country,
With the panting and the yawns.
With the crickets and the pheasants
And the orchards and the hay,
With the servants and the peasants,
We’ll be laying our plans
While we’re playing croquet
For a weekend in the country,
So inactive that one has to lie down.
A weekend in the country
Where ...

(HENRIK enters)

 

HENRIK:

A weekend in the country,
The bees in their hives,
The shallow, worldly figures,
The frivolous lives.
The devil’s companions
Know not whom they serve.
It might be instructive
To observe.

(DESIRÉE and FREDRIKA unfreeze)

DESIRÉE: However, there is one tiny snag.

FREDRIKA: A snag?

DESIRÉE: Lawyer Egerman is married.

FREDRIKA: That could be considered a snag.

DESIRÉE: Don’t worry, my darling. I was not raised by your Grandmother for nothing.

DESIRÉE holds out her arm, and FREDRIKA runs to her. Together, they walk upstage as we see, for the first time, the facade of the Armfeldt mansion. FRID stands at the door, and once DESIRÉE and FREDRIKA have entered, he closes it behind them)

CARL-MAGNUS:	FREDRIK:	HENRIK:
Charlotte!	We’re off!	A weekend in the
		Country,
		The bees in their
CHARLOTTE:		Hives ...
I’m thinking it out.	PETRA:
	We are?
CARL-MAGNUS:
Charlotte!	FREDRIK and ANNE:
	We’ll take the car.
CHARLOTTE:		MRS. SEGSTROM and
There’s no need	ALL THREE:	MRS. ANDERSSEN:
To shout.	We’ll bring	We’re off! We are?
	Champagne and	We’ll take the car.
	Caviar!
MRS. NORDSTROM		MRS. ANDERSSEN and
and MR. ERLANSON:	MR. LINDQUIST:	MRS. SEGSTROM:
A weekend of playing	Confiding our motives	We’ll
Croquet		Bring
A weekend of strolling	And hiding our yawns,	Champagne
The lawns,		And caviar!

CARL-MAGNUS, CHARLOTTE,
FREDRIK, ANNE, and PETRA:	QUINTET:
We’re off and away, What a beautiful day!	The weather is spectacular!

ALL:

With riotous laughter
We quietly suffer
The season in town,
Which is reason enough for
A weekend in the country,
How amusing,
How delightfully droll!
A weekend in the country,
While we’re losing our control.
A weekend in the country,
How enchanting
On the manicured lawns.
A weekend in the country,
With the panting and the yawns.
With the crickets and the pheasants
And the orchards and the hay,
With the servants and the peasants,
We’ll be laying our plans
While we’re playing croquet
For a weekend in the country,
So inactive that one has to lie down.
A weekend in the country
Where...
We’re twice as upset as in
Twice as upset as in
Twice as upset as in
Twice as upset as in ...

(All, simultaneously)

 

QUINTET:

Twice as upset as in,
Twice as upset as in,
Twice as upset as in,
Twice as upset as in,
Twice as upset as in,
Twice as upset as in,
Twice as upset as in,
Twice as upset as in,
Twice as upset as in —

ANNE:	FREDRIK:
Twice as upset as in town.	Twice as upset ...
A weekend!	Are you sure you want to go?
A weekend!	Are you sure you want to go?
A weekend!	Are you sure you want to go
A weekend!	Away and leave,
A weekend!	Go and leave — ?
A weekend out of —
CHARLOTTE:	CARL-MAGNUS:
Twice as upset ...	Twice as upset...
We’re uninvited,	Charlotte, we’re going,
Uninvited,	Charlotte, we’re going,
Uninvited —	Charlotte, we’re going,
We should stay in —	Charlotte, out of —
PETRA:	HENRIK:
Twice as upset ...	Shallow, worldly
A weekend!	People going,
A weekend!	Shallow people
A weekend!	Going out of —
A weekend!
A weekend!
A weekend!
A weekend out of —
ALL:
Town!

(Curtain)

Glynis Johns as Desirée Armfeldt

Victoria Mallory as Anne Egerman

Frid (George Lee Andrews), Fredrika Armfeldt (Judy Kahan) and Madame Armfeldt (Hermione Gingold)

“Later”

Henrik Egerman (Mark Lambert)

“Now”

Fredrik (Len Cariou) and Anne (Victoria Mallory)

Len Cariou as Fredrik Egerman

“In Praise of Women” Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm (Laurence Guittard) and Desirée (Glynis Johns)

“Every Day a Little Death” Countess Charlotte Malcolm (Patricia Elliot) and Anne (Victoria Mallory)

“Liaisons”

Madame Armfeldt (Hermione Gingold)

Desirée (Glynis Johns) and Fredrik (Len Cariou)

New York City Opera Production

Regina Resnik as Madame Armfeldt

Sally Ann Howes as Desirée Armfeldt

George Lee Andrews as Fredrik Egerman and Michael Maguire as Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm

Jean Simmons as Desirée Armfeldt

Fredrik Egerman (Joss Ackland), Desirée Armfeldt (Jean Simmons), Anne Egerman (Veronica Page), Madame Armfeldt (Hermione Gingold), Henrik Egerman (Terry Mitchell), Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm (David Kernan) and Countess Charlotte Malcolm (Maria Aitken)