EPILOGUE

MONIQUE, CHARLES and KARINE prepare to go and attend MARIE’s thesis defence. MONIQUE and CHARLES are quite worked up; KARINE is ready and waiting for them.

MONIQUE

Have you got the video camera?

CHARLES

Yes.

MONIQUE

The still camera too?

CHARLES

Yes.

MONIQUE

The one with film in it.

CHARLES

You want the one with film in it as well?

MONIQUE

Of course I do. It makes the best pictures.

CHARLES

Okay. You getting flowers?

MONIQUE

Should we?

CHARLES

Of course we should.

MONIQUE

It’s a pretty big bouquet. Won’t it get in her way?

CHARLES

We’ve gotta bring flowers.

MONIQUE

We could save them for her, later, along with the gift…

CHARLES

No, no, she’s got to have them there, where everyone can see.

KARINE

(almost to herself) Everybody’s coming back here afterwards. Don’t worry, they’ll all see that huge bouquet of yours.

CHARLES

(to MONIQUE) Oh, by the way, the caterer called and left a message: it won’t be until seven, maybe seven-thirty.

MONIQUE

What? We arranged six-thirty!

CHARLES

Yeah, but you changed the menu at the last minute.

KARINE

You changed the menu?

MONIQUE

(to CHARLES) Well then, what are we going to have with champagne at six-thirty?

KARINE

Why’d you change the menu?

MONIQUE

(to CHARLES) They’ll all be drunk before the caterer gets here!

KARINE

What’s the point in asking me to choose the menu if you’re going to go and change it afterwards?

MONIQUE

I didn’t change it; I just spiced it up a bit!

CHARLES

Okay, we gotta go.

KARINE

I can’t believe you went and changed it.

MONIQUE

I’ll call the taxi.

KARINE

Huh? We’re going by taxi?

CHARLES

(going over to get the flowers) Never mind. I’ll take care of it.

MONIQUE

(to KARINE, out of earshot from CHARLES) Your dad’s way too nervous to drive…

CHARLES

(from across the room) …That way we won’t have to go round and round looking for parking!

MONIQUE

Uh… Karine?

KARINE

What?

CHARLES

(still at a distance) They never have any…

KARINE

(to MONIQUE) What are you looking at me for?

MONIQUE

No reason… it’s just… are you going dressed like that?

KARINE

Okay, now what’s wrong?

MONIQUE

Nothing! I’m just thinking about you… were you planning on changing?

KARINE

No, I wasn’t planning on changing.

MONIQUE

Oh, I see.

KARINE

Why do you want me to change?

KARINE’s cellphone rings. She searches in her bag for it.

MONIQUE

I don’t want you to change; I’m just surprised you didn’t feel like it…

KARINE

Hey, hold on there a minute! You weren’t this excited when I got married!

MONIQUE

Karine, I want your sister to feel important. We live in a society that doesn’t appreciate intellectuals, so I thought maybe you’d change.

CHARLES

(emerging with a huge bouquet of flowers) Okay girls, the taxi’s on its way.

KARINE has found her phone.

KARINE

Hello? …Paul? Where are you? Hold on, you’ll have to speak up, Mama can’t hear you. You’re at school? What’s happened?… stomach ache, uh-huh… Paul, I can’t make out what you’re saying, why don’t you let me speak to… Hello? Yes, Madame Bérouard? Yes… Okay I’m on my way. (She hangs up.)

(to CHARLES and MONIQUE) I won’t be able to go and see Marie. They’re taking Paul to Emergency.

ROMAIN and MARIE are about to leave.

MARIE 1

Go tell them I’m not coming.

ROMAIN

What?

MARIE 1

Tell them I’m not coming.

ROMAIN

You’re kidding…

MARIE 1

I’m not going. There’s no point. I’ve got nothing to say.

ROMAIN

Look, I know you’re nervous, but this is no time to fool around. C’mon, we’ll be late.

MARIE 1

No.

ROMAIN

Cut this out, Marie.

MARIE 1

I can’t do it.

ROMAIN

You haven’t worked so hard on this goddamn thesis to give up now.

MARIE 1

See, “goddam thesis”: even you agree.

ROMAIN

What the hell’s gotten into you?

MARIE 1

It’s really been bugging you… hasn’t it, sweetheart?

ROMAIN

No…

MARIE 1

You’re right, you know. I was too haughty, detached from whatever was bothering you—worse yet, above it all—I revelled in not being able to make the gestures you do, when all the time I’d have loved to be able to copy you.

ROMAIN

Look, if you want, we can talk about this after your defence.

MARIE 1

But I don’t know what I’m defending anymore…

ROMAIN

Marie…

MARIE 1

…Deep down, I wish I could be like Karine and the others. I could maybe do like all of those women who have kissed someone as though making a pact with him, stare into shop windows, look at myself in them too and become more of an impression than I’ve ever been, then get used to it, get used to it once and for all. Maybe I could even be on time and plan meals, highlight my eyes and people’s birthdays, have a drink and salsa lessons, love other people and throw myself into their arms, then maybe one day even have children for Chronos to devour one by one.

MARIE 2

It’s time that devours children. That’s all it knows how to do.

Telephone rings.

MARIE 1

So I asked an artist to paint my children’s portrait before they’re eaten up by time. One for each child that I could contemplate every day. That way, they reveal their invisible side to me, genes lying dormant, and maybe I would know them better that way than when they’re clambering and making demands all around me.

Or maybe not. Maybe I could just buy them things, and that would be enough to keep them happy. I’d look at them looking at their things and being happy.

ROMAIN

(referring to the phone) Don’t answer it. It’s time to go defend your thesis.

KARINE

(in a phone booth; the sound cuts out frequently) Hello Marie, I’m leaving a message… tell you Paul has appendicitis. It’s not serious… in time… I almost didn’t notice… not understand. When he wouldn’t stop complaining… stomach ache, I thought he was stressed out… you know how he is. I didn’t want to go to the hospital, I thought… five hours just to be told my son is stressed out. The doctor told me… too long and it might have been bad. Good thing the school nurse… John… Toronto, I told him… operating just then. It’s so… imagining… inside him… They are… like I’d never see him. In… normally I can go to the recovery room… you’ll never guess what he said?… He was afraid he wouldn’t recognize himself, without his appendix… tormented at the thought they were taking away a part of him, so I explained that… promised he’d know himself after the operation. I do hope he will. Do you know if… able to recognize himself… Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t come, obviously…

I’ll be thinking of you… have a good… I… be in touch.

While this is going on: ROMAIN holds MARIE 1 in his arms, MARIE 1 joins MARIE 2, sits down and prepares to start her defence. The sound is sporadically interrupted in the same way.

MARIE 1

(simultaneously with KARINE) To begin with… to thank you, ladies… of the jury, for having read, you… and your comments… convey my gratitude and… all those… sharing with me today… of my student life. Officially, I mean.

KARINE hangs up the phone.

MARIE 1 & 2

To all those who have been hanged, to all those angels whose feet are covered because the earth disgusts them, to all the children of Chronos with frightening thoughts, to all the disenchanted, my thesis is for all of you because I know of no other way; I am not capable of desiring things, nor of choosing them, nor of buying them, nor of loving them, nor of giving them, nor of putting them away. I…

PAUL

You’ve got to defend, Marie. You’ve got to.

DOCTOR

(veiled woman from above the eye, as though bending over PAUL, still open on the operating table) You’ve got to hang on, Paul. You’ve got to hang on.

MARIE 1

Thus, research into the archaeology of image, by way of the feet of angels and uncertainty about their depiction in painting, this research has brought about a questioning of how the world itself is represented, and to what extent the world itself is revealed below the surface…

DOCTOR

(veiled woman to the eye while still operating) Paul, can you hear me? I’ve almost finished, Paul. Now, you’ve got to stay with me and remain alert, okay? You’re soon going to open your eyes, but for now just listen. Listen to this story, all right? It is happening right now, my story, but far away from here, and far from your home.

In this distant country there is a girl, a beautiful girl with long ebony hair and eyes deep as the night. Despite her beauty, she is unhappy, because no matter where she looks, she cannot see herself, not in the shop windows and the lines of people with reflections that seem like hers. She can’t pick her own silhouette out of a crowd, especially young girls in her country, walking wrapped like the dead in their shrouds.

Nor can she see herself in the eyes of passersby, though they may be brothers to her—not on the screens of Hollywood, either.

Even her own mirror makes her unrecognizable. Hard to imagine, isn’t it, Paul? In the evening, this young girl undresses in front of it and uncovers the ebony hair, wondering who it belongs to. Yet she was so sure in uncovering it the rest would burst forth into daylight: her liver, her heart, her bones, her gaze, her spirit, and every thought, but no, she sees none of that, nothing more than hair, which might as well be borrowed from someone else.

“Whose hair is it when the veil comes off?” she wonders.

Filled with doubt and torment, she asks her grandmother, who answers:

“My girl, only a great painter can reveal you to yourself. Go and see the good Soleyman; possibly he can help you.”

She does go to see him, and says, “Excuse me, sir, but there is something I must ask you, without vanity, but from an urgent need to understand; please, Master Painter, could you paint my portrait?”

Soleyman, a little taken aback, asks her: “With or without your veil?”

She doesn’t know what to say. Paul, you’re still with me, aren’t you? The girl doesn’t know what to say; she just stays rigid and silent, petrified by a question so delicate, do you understand? With or without the veil… what do you think of that, Paul?

While she’s standing there motionless, Soleyman makes the most of it and paints her portrait. This takes a few hours, and during that time, without realizing it, she lets herself be seen through the veil. All day he works and all night, before finally showing her the picture. Now that’s one I’d like to see, wouldn’t you, Paul? When the girl realizes this, she’s overcome with a mild dizziness and joy that bathes her cheeks in tears: she recognizes herself for the first time in her life! Can you imagine that, Paul? The girl sees herself in Soleyman’s painting! She can see everything in his portrait: her ebony hair, of course, but also her liver, her heart, her bones, her gaze, her spirit and every one of her thoughts.

Stay with me, Paul, the story’s almost over.

In the hands of this painter, the girl’s veil became a passage for the light to shine through, a passage that softens the world’s noise and reveals her secrets.

Ever since that day, she cannot be away from Soleyman’s gaze, and they spend so many happy days together.

MARIE 2

…I mean, one day we might revisit this too and see it in a new light, in a wholly different way. That’s the frenzy of wanting to know, the passion for discovering things all over again, a feverish contagion of erudition, a new perspective on everything, a fresh way of seeing and describing the world.

PAUL

We need to wrap this up, Marie.

MARIE 1

Yes, I know we do…

MARIE 2

In conclusion…

MARIE 1

…The problem is I’m incapable of defending a thesis or anything else, anyone else. Look, for instance, my brother hanged himself a long time ago now.

PAUL

What did he die of, your brother?

MARIE 1

He hanged himself by the neck.

MARIE 2

Finally…

MARIE 1

Finally.

PAUL

That was the method I chose, not what I died of. We tend to think of motives and actions in the same terms, but that’s not right. How many people do the same things every day, but for different reasons? Why should I be just the same as anyone else who hangs himself?

MARIE 1

…In the end, I don’t really know what my brother died of.

MARIE 2

In the end, all the uncertainties that afflicted us won’t seem like wounds but like fascinating mysteries, a veil full of hidden promises, and we will rejoice in these uncertainties as a rest for the eyes, and after that, enchantment will return to us.

MARIE 1

In the end.

PAUL

Will Paul open his eyes in the end?

DOCTOR

(veiled woman) Paul, do you still want to die so that you can see what comes afterwards? There’s no need to hurry, you know. We all get there sooner or later; meanwhile, just open your eyes and see what is going on here and now.

Of course, we’re all swimming in a bog, our actions are short-lived and vain, yes of course. Yet out of that mud and clay and these uncertain convulsions dazzling forms of beauty sometimes emerge, giving the passage of time a sweeter taste.

I remember the ancient words we recited at school; they were as good to me as the rain:

She recites these quatrains of Omar Khayyam:

Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai

Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,

How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his

Hour or two, and went his way.

Even from the bright rising sun

The moon that has playfully spun

We learn love, joy and even fun

Before our time’s sand has run.

Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night

Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:

And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught

The Sultan’s Turret in a Noose of Light.

MARIE 1 & 2

It is hoped that the thesis I submit for the jury’s appreciation today demonstrates this, and I will now gladly answer your questions.

The end.