Second Scene
A few days later. Leo is painting Elizabeth, who is nursing Letitia.
She is dressed vaguely as the Virgin Mary, in one of Mrs. Givings’s gowns.
Mrs. Givings watches Leo paint.
The painting does not face us, we do not see it.
LEO
It will be a revolution! I will call it: Nursing Madonna! How can there be so few Madonnas in which the baby Jesus actually gives suck.
MRS. GIVINGS
We are to think of Him feeding us, I suppose. Not the other way round.
Mrs. Givings gets up and paces.
She is jealous, of nursing and of being painted.
Leo goes to Elizabeth.
LEO
(To Elizabeth) Elizabeth, could you just—
He arranges the fabric so that her breast is more exposed.
Mrs. Givings examines the painting.
MRS. GIVINGS
Hmm.
LEO
Don’t look at it, it’s not done yet—
MRS. GIVINGS
Sorry.
LEO
Elizabeth, could you just—
He angles her head toward the baby.
LEO
There. Beautiful. There is nothing so peaceful as nursing a baby.
The baby and the mother become one being, do they not?
Mrs. Givings taps her foot.
LEO
You seem nervous, Mrs. Givings.
MRS. GIVINGS
We should stop. My husband will be home from the club shortly and he wouldn’t approve of this, not at all.
LEO
I don’t see why. Your husband is a man who understands science, why then he must understand nature.
Leo resumes painting.
MRS. GIVINGS
(In low tones to Leo) I am not supposed to talk to his patients, much less arrange for them to see the bare breasts of the—help—in my living room.
LEO
Leave behind the stranglehold of convention and loosen your corset, Mrs. Givings, you will breathe much better.
ELIZABETH
She is done eating. She has fallen asleep.
He paints.
Mrs. Givings paces.
MRS. GIVINGS
I can hold the baby.
LEO
I need her there for the angle of Elizabeth’s hands.
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh.
What day of the week is it, anyway?
ELIZABETH
Wednesday.
MRS. GIVINGS
That’s right, Wednesday. It is always Wednesday, isn’t it? Or it was Wednesday only yesterday. It is almost never Friday. It is never, ever Tuesday, but always Wednesday, I find. Smack in the middle of the week. With nothing to look forward to but the charwoman coming and cleaning out the ashes. Are you almost done with her hands?
LEO
Hands are difficult. You would think they would be just five quick lines, but no, they have personalities as intimate as faces. Elizabeth’s hands, for instance—they are fine hands, with long fingers that remind me of tapered candles. A person one has loved—the memory of their hands. Did they flutter or sit still? Dry? Moist? Cool on a hot forehead? What? That is what I wish to express in my paintings. The memory—of the movement—of very particular hands, even though they appear to be unmoving on canvas.
MRS. GIVINGS
Have you loved many women, Mr. Irving? Do you remember many—hands?
LEO
I have loved enough women to know how to paint.
If I had loved fewer, I would be an illustrator; if I had loved more,
I would be a poet.
MRS. GIVINGS
Are poets required to love many women?
LEO
Oh, yes. Love animates every line.
MRS. GIVINGS
But what of the rest of us mere mortals. How many times must we fall in love in order to live through the week.
LEO
There is also the love of God, love of country, love of children.
MRS. GIVINGS
Indeed.
LEO
I must look at her hands.
The front door opens. Leo stops painting.
Dr. Givings enters.
They startle.
Elizabeth covers her breast.
Dr. Givings is shocked at the scene in his living room.
Then he pretends he hasn’t seen anything.
DR. GIVINGS
You are early for your appointment, Mr. Irving.
LEO
Yes.
DR. GIVINGS
I will wash up and see you in the operating theater.
Good afternoon, Elizabeth. Catherine.
He exits to the operating theater.
ELIZABETH
Oh, God.
MRS. GIVINGS
It’s all right. As you see, he is a man of science. Nothing upsets or shocks him.
LEO
You talk as if that’s a crime. What a capital husband you have. Completely beyond the dictates of modern society. I love your husband.
ELIZABETH
Shall I take the baby into the nusery?
MRS. GIVINGS
Yes, that will be all, Elizabeth.
I will put the paint things away.
Go to your appointment, Mr. Irving.
LEO
Thank you, Elizabeth. You were nothing short of divine.
Did you mind terribly being looked at? Being seen?
ELIZABETH
Who minds being seen?
LEO
Who?
ELIZABETH
Only criminals. I suppose.
LEO
Indeed.
MRS. GIVINGS
Good day, Mr. Irving.
LEO
Mrs. Givings.
Leo enters the operating theater.
DR. GIVINGS
No need to undress all the way. We can be quick about it. Just lower your trousers.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Givings tries to hide the painting in the living room.
DR. GIVINGS
It seems that you and my wife are becoming acquinated.
LEO
A bit.
DR. GIVINGS
I see. She’s a wonderful woman, is she not?
LEO
Yes.
DR. GIVINGS
I’m a lucky man.
Dr. Givings inserts the Chattanooga vibrator, a little more firmly than usual.
DR. GIVINGS
And your health, it seems to be much improved?
LEO
Yes, I am painting again. In fact, I cannot stop painting.
DR. GIVINGS
How wonderful. I am so glad for you.
Leo has an anal paroxysm.
LEO
Oh.
DR. GIVINGS
I do think you’re cured now.
We can stop the treatments.
LEO
Thank you, Doctor.
I believe you’ve saved my life.
Dr. Givings puts away the vibrator.
LEO
I am suddenly drowsy.
DR. GIVINGS
Take a nap.
Good day.
Dr. Givings exits to his private study.
Leo drowses.
In the living room:
The doorbell rings.
Mrs. Givings answers the door.
Mr. and Mrs. Daldry enter.
MRS. GIVINGS
Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Daldry!
MR. AND MRS. DALDRY
Hello.
MRS. GIVINGS
I have not visited with you since it was raining, Mr. Daldry.
MR. DALDRY
And I have not seen you since you were wet.
Have you been well?
You look well.
Very well.
MRS. GIVINGS
Thank you.
MR. DALDRY
It’s good you’re done with that odious nursing business. A woman like you should be—enjoying yourself—not shut up in a nursery all day.
MRS. DALDRY
(To Mr. Daldry) Will you do me a favor, my dear, and take a walk around the grounds before my appointment?
I wish to speak to Mrs. Givings about my needlework before Dr. Givings arrives and I fear we’ll bore you.
MR. DALDRY
I don’t have much to say on the subject of needlepoint. I’ll see you shortly. Darling. Mrs. Givings.
MRS. GIVINGS
(As he moves to the door) Take a left turn by the fountain—there is a winter garden—I planted it myself—
MR. DALDRY
I didn’t know anything grew in winter—
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh, yes—juniper and periwinkle and—
MR. DALDRY
It’s all the same to me. But if you planted it, Mrs. Givings, I’m sure it’s lovely.
He exits.
MRS. DALDRY
I wanted to speak with you.
MRS. GIVINGS
Come and sit. You have taken up needlework?
MRS. DALDRY
No. I hate needlework. I have been thinking about what you said—about having two experiences of the same event.
I want very much to—I do not know how to—but I was thinking—if we go into the operating theater again, and if we place the instrument just so—and if you held it, and then I held it—but we did a kind of—
Mrs. Daldry gestures, oddly.
Elizabeth enters.
ELIZABETH
I laid her down to sleep in her pram. I am sorry about the—
MRS. GIVINGS
Never mind, Elizabeth.
You may go now.
Wait, Elizabeth, before you leave—perhaps you can settle a question.
Mrs. Daldry and I have had two experiences of the very same event.
Have you ever had this sensation?
Either: you have shivers all over your body, and you feel like running, and your feet get very hot, as though you are dancing on devil’s coals—
MRS. DALDRY
Or you see unaccountable patterns of light, of electricity, under your eyelids—and your heart races—and your legs feel very weak, as though you cannot walk—
MRS. GIVINGS
Or your face gets suddenly hot, like a strange sudden sunburn—
MRS. DALDRY
Or there are red splotches up one side of your entire body—a strange rash—here—
She points to her chest.
MRS. GIVINGS
And the feeling of burning, as though you’ll get no relief—and your mouth is dry and you have to lick your lips—and you find your face making a very ugly expression, so you cover your face with your hands—
MRS. DALDRY
And sometimes a great outpouring of liquid, and the sheets are wet, but it is not an unpleasant sensation, only a little frightening?
ELIZABETH
Is that a riddle?
MRS. GIVINGS
Has that ever happened to you?
ELIZABETH
I do not know—the sensations are so contradictory. Does anything unite them?
MRS. GIVINGS
Many of them are—down below.
ELIZABETH
Oh—I see.
Well, the things you describe, some of them seem to be sensations that an invalid would have, or someone with a horrible fever—but others—sound like sensations that women might have when they are having relations with their husbands.
A pause.
ELIZABETH
I’m sorry. Perhaps you were joking. Perhaps—I shouldn’t have said—
MRS. GIVINGS
With their husbands?
MRS. DALDRY
How interesting.
ELIZABETH
Those sensations you are describing—they are not from having relations with your husbands?
MRS. DALDRY
Good heavens, no!
MRS. GIVINGS
No! Good God.
They laugh.
MRS. DALDRY
I don’t know what I should do if I felt those things in the presence of my husband—I’d be so embarrassed I would leave the room immediately. As it is—my husband is very considerate—when he comes to my room at night, I am asleep—he tells me to keep my eyes shut, and I do—so I feel only the darkness—and then the pain—I lie very still—I do not see his face—my husband is—has always been—very considerate.
MRS. GIVINGS
Of course.
MRS. DALDRY
But the instrument produces a very different kind of pain, does it not? Very different from the other kind of pain? With my husband—
Leo enters the room, a bit dazed.
LEO
Ladies.
They nod to him.
Elizabeth is embarrassed to see him.
ELIZABETH
Good-bye then.
LEO
(To Elizabeth) I will see you home.
I have a good enough likeness, I can finish the painting at my studio.
ELIZABETH
I can walk home myself.
LEO
No, I wouldn’t hear of it, I will walk you home.
ELIZABETH
No thank you, Mr. Irving.
LEO
Please. You did me a great service today, I can at least see that you get home.
MRS. GIVINGS
(To Leo) Oh, don’t go just yet!
LEO
I’ll just see Elizabeth home. Oh, the painting!
MRS. GIVINGS
I’ll get it.
She hands him the painting.
Elizabeth exits.
MRS. GIVINGS
I will see you soon?
LEO
I’m afraid my treatments are at an end. I’m cured.
MRS. GIVINGS
But that’s impossible!
Dr. Givings enters from the operating theater and sees the good-bye between Leo and Catherine.
LEO
I will see you again. Never fear. Good-bye, Catherine. (He takes her hand, then sees Dr. Givings, and drops it) Dr. Givings. Farewell.
Leo runs out the door.
DR. GIVINGS
Mrs. Daldry. I did not hear you arrive. I’ll just let you get ready.
Mrs. Daldry moves to the operating theater and undresses with the help of Annie.
In the living room:
DR. GIVINGS
What can you be thinking of? Do you mean to embarrass me?
MRS. GIVINGS
I thought it was only a scene in a book to you. Or a fact.
DR. GIVINGS
Do you think it’s escaped my notice that you haven’t breakfasted with me for five days running?
MRS. GIVINGS
Breakfast is not a very romantic meal. I decided to skip it.
DR. GIVINGS
Is every meal supposed to be romantic?
MRS. GIVINGS
I do not enjoy you silently reading your scientific journals while I eat my toast.
DR. GIVINGS
You prefer grand passions over toast? My God, woman, we are married, a man needs to be quiet at least once a day.
MRS. GIVINGS
So I’ll be quiet then! HERE I AM! QUIET! QUIET AS A MOUSE!
Mr. Daldry enters the living room.
MR. DALDRY
What a beautiful winter garden—sorry, am I interrupting?
MRS. GIVINGS
No. We were just discussing breakfast. You know, in Italy they hardly eat breakfast. Just a little bit of sweet cracker to dip in very strong coffee. They eat something light to recover from the great passions they spent during the night. Better to skip breakfast and move on to lunch, a great big lunch, when the silence isn’t quite so loud, no the silence is not quite so deafening at lunch.
DR. GIVINGS
How do you know about biscotti?
MRS. GIVINGS
Mr. Irving told me.
DR. GIVINGS
I see.
MR. DALDRY
I know nothing about biscotti. I like ham and eggs for breakfast, sausage too. A big breakfast is important for one’s energy, Mrs. Givings. I have once heard it said that small women should eat large animals. You ought to eat a bit of meat for breakfast, some bacon, or some sausage.
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh, I have plenty of energy, Mr. Daldry. I don’t need to borrow energy from a cow. I have so much energy I do not know what to do with it, you see.
MR. DALDRY
Mmmm.
Annie sticks her head in the living room:
ANNIE
We’re ready for you, Doctor.
DR. GIVINGS
Will you excuse me.
MRS. GIVINGS AND MR. DALDRY
(An approximation of) Oh, yes, certainly.
Dr. Givings enters the operating theater.
He is distracted.
He puts the vibrator on Mrs. Daldry’s torso.
MRS. DALDRY
Dr. Givings?
DR. GIVINGS
Yes?
MRS. DALDRY
Is something wrong?
DR. GIVINGS
Oh—terribly sorry. I am distracted.
He moves the vibrator.
In the living room, Mr. Daldry and Mrs. Givings sit on the couch.
He moves toward her.
MR. DALDRY
Mrs. Givings. I—don’t always know how to converse—in a drawing room. I—
He tries to kiss her.
She slaps him.
MRS. GIVINGS
Mr. Daldry!
What can you be thinking of?
MR. DALDRY
You said about your energies. I thought—
MRS. GIVINGS
You insult me.
MR. DALDRY
You have no idea how I long for a woman of energy. My wife is so tired, she is so tired, all the time.
MRS. GIVINGS
How dare you speak ill of your wife in my presence. Go. Please.
MR. DALDRY
Will you have the goodness to tell Mrs. Daldry to meet me at home, I will send a carriage for her.
Mrs. Givings nods.
Mr. Daldry leaves.
She goes to the door of the operating theater and hesitates there, sinking down, upset.
DR. GIVINGS
It has been taking longer with you of late. Perhaps I need to build a new instrument with a few more beats per minute—perhaps the body gets accustomed to so many beats per minute and then requires more—
He adjusts the vibrator.
DR. GIVINGS
Hmm. Nothing. Is it past three minutes?
He looks at his pocket watch.
MRS. DALDRY
Perhaps if Annie tries.
DR. GIVINGS
Yes, of course, Annie why don’t you have a go. I will attend to some business.
Annie takes the vibrator and tries.
Dr. Givings leaves the room.
He almost trips on his wife at the door.
DR. GIVINGS
My God. You are acting the part of a madwoman in a play! Listening at doors?
MRS. GIVINGS
You will offer to her what you deny to me!
DR. GIVINGS
It is medicine, my love!
MRS. GIVINGS
And I say it isn’t!
DR. GIVINGS
I thought I heard a slap!
MRS. GIVINGS
It was nothing, nothing at all.
Mrs. Daldry has a louder than usual paroxysm.
They both hear it.
MRS. GIVINGS
Well, your work is done now.
You can go to the club.
And argue about the benefits of the alternating current over and above the direct current.
DR. GIVINGS
And you?
Do you favor the alternating or direct?
MRS. GIVINGS
Direct. From here to here.
She gestures from his heart to her heart.
DR. GIVINGS
Interesting. I would have guessed alternating. More complicated, changing direction dozens of times per second. Faces slapped by nobody. Italian breakfasts. Etcetera. I’ll be at the club.
He exits.
Mrs. Givings moves toward the operating theater.
Annie and Mrs. Daldry are sitting in a weirdly compromised postcoital state of reflection.
MRS. DALDRY
Annie, have you ever used the instrument upon yourself?
ANNIE
Oh, no. For I’ve never been ill. I’ve scarcely had a day’s illness in my life. Maybe a bit of a stomach bug, but nothing mental. I’m sound as a horse, I was raised on a farm.
MRS. DALDRY
I could hold the instrument on you, if you would like, it is not unpleasant, and perhaps it would be interesting for you to experience it.
ANNIE
I do not think the doctor would like it.
Mrs. Givings enters the operating theater.
MRS. GIVINGS
My husband . . . has gone to the club. And Mr. Daldry has also left.
He sent a carriage for you. They both said their farewells.
MRS. DALDRY
Thank you, Mrs. Givings.
MRS. GIVINGS
Shall I leave you? I could—
A suspended moment in which we are not sure if we might witness three women playing with the vibrator together.
All of them think about it.
They all look at one another, and then at the instrument.
MRS. DALDRY
I—
ANNIE
I—
MRS. DALDRY
I must get dressed.
MRS. GIVINGS
Of course. Annie, do you need any assistance cleaning up?
ANNIE
No, thank you, Mrs. Givings. It’s very easy to clean up.
MRS. GIVINGS
All right then.
I will leave you.
Mrs. Givings exits.
Annie helps Mrs. Daldry get dressed.
MRS. DALDRY
Well.
ANNIE
Well, then.
MRS. DALDRY
I suppose we could—continue with my Greek lesson.
ANNIE
Oh, yes. I believe we left off with the early Greek philosophers. Thales thought the earth was suspended on water, floated there, and he thought that all magnets had souls because they moved towards one another.
MRS. DALDRY
I can well believe that magnets have souls. When I look into dark eyes, like magnets, I am moved, unaccountably. You have very dark eyes, like magnets—has any man ever told you so?
ANNIE
No man has told me much aside from: pass the clamp.
MRS. DALDRY
They should Annie, they really should. Whatever happened to Thales?
ANNIE
He never married. His mother told him he should marry and he said: it’s too early. And when she pressed him again, ten years later, he said: it’s too late.
MRS. DALDRY
And you? Why have you never married?
ANNIE
One day, I woke up, and it was too late.
MRS. DALDRY
I see.
Annie, I have been thinking. I wonder whether I could purchase one of these instruments for home use. The doctor is so busy, and I really feel I’m almost better. My color has returned, and I wake up in the morning and feel hopeful. I could use it only as required, when, for example, I have trouble sleeping, as I often do, and I can’t very well call on the doctor past midnight.
ANNIE
Well—it might be dangerous for home use, because of the potential for electrocution, but I will ask the doctor. You know he is very open to inventions.
MRS. DALDRY
I would be too embarrassed to ask.
ANNIE
I will ask for you.
MRS. DALDRY
Good-bye then, Annie
ANNIE
Good-bye.
MRS. DALDRY
Thank you, Annie.
ANNIE
For what?
MRS. DALDRY
For the Greek lesson.
Mrs. Daldry exits.
Annie washes her hands.
She looks at the vibrator, thinks of using it on herself, thinks better of it, puts it away.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Givings is lying on the sofa in the living room.
MRS. DALDRY
Are you quite all right, Mrs. Givings? Your color looks off.
MRS. GIVINGS
I am not myself.
MRS. DALDRY
Is there anything I can do?
MRS. GIVINGS
No, thank you.
Mrs. Daldry, did you dream of love from a young age?
MRS. DALDRY
Yes.
MRS. GIVINGS
And what did you think it would be like?
MRS. DALDRY
I thought it would be—never wanting for anything. Being surrounded and lifted up. Like resting on water, for eternity.
MRS. GIVINGS
And is that what you have found in marriage?
MRS. DALDRY
There have been moments of rest. But as it turns out, the earth rests on air, not on water, and the air can feel very—insubstantial—at times. Even though it is holding you up, invisibly.
MRS. GIVINGS
Yes.
MRS. DALDRY
Do you mind if I play your piano?
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh, please do.
Mrs. Daldry plays the piano, full of longing.
From offstage, the baby cries.
MRS. GIVINGS
Excuse me.
Mrs. Givings exits to attend to the baby.
Annie enters and listens to Mrs Daldry play.
Annie goes to sit beside Mrs. Daldry on the piano bench.
Mrs. Daldry finishes the song.
Annie claps.
They kiss.
MRS. DALDRY
What?
ANNIE
Oh.
MRS. DALDRY
How strange.
ANNIE
Oh dear.
MRS. DALDRY
I had better not see you ever again.
ANNIE
I suppose not.
MRS. DALDRY
Good-bye then Annie.
ANNIE
Good-bye.
Mrs. Daldry exits.
Mrs. Givings enters.
MRS. GIVINGS
Annie?
ANNIE
What a sad song she played. I believe it made me tear up a little. Good-bye Mrs. Givings.
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh, don’t leave, Annie—Dr. Givings is at the club and I have very little company.
ANNIE
I’m afraid I must go.
MRS. GIVINGS
What is the matter?
ANNIE
That song made me sad. Good-bye.
Mrs. Givings, alone.
The doorbell rings.
Elizabeth enters, not entirely herself.
MRS. GIVINGS
Elizabeth. I did not expect you. What is it?
ELIZABETH
Mrs. Givings, I came to tell you that today was my last day working for you. My husband doesn’t like me gone so much. He wants me home with my own children.
MRS. GIVINGS
But you can’t leave us, Elizabeth! What on earth will we do without you?
ELIZABETH
She is almost ready to have cow’s milk. Or a little bit of rice porridge.
MRS. GIVINGS
I suppose. I was not thinking only of the food.
Elizabeth nods slowly.
MRS. GIVINGS
But why today? I don’t understand.
ELIZABETH
Mr. Irving insisted on walking me home. He was not—inappropriate—but he kept hold of my arm. He paid me a large sum of money—for the sitting. And he walked me up to my front door.
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh, dear.
ELIZABETH
My husband was home. My husband saw him. And me. And the painting.
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh! Was your husband very angry? About the painting?
ELIZABETH
The painting? No. He cried when he saw the painting. It’s your hands, he said. Mr. Irving must be a good painter, it’s hard to paint hands.
But he doesn’t want me working here, not anymore.
MRS. GIVINGS
Of course. Yes—I understand.
ELIZABETH
No—you don’t.
A pause.
ELIZABETH
I’ll just say good-bye to Lotty. I have grown fond of her.
MRS. GIVINGS
Yes. Well.
She is in the nursery. She is fat and happy, all thanks to you.
Elizabeth—how old was your Henry Douglas when he died?
ELIZABETH
Twelve weeks.
MRS. GIVINGS
What did he die of?
ELIZABETH
Cholera.
MRS. GIVINGS
I am sorry.
ELIZABETH
Thank you.
MRS. GIVINGS
I think I should die of sorrow, in your place.
ELIZABETH
Die of sorrow? A mother of two cannot die of sorrow.
MRS. GIVINGS
But how do you go on, after?
ELIZABETH
My mother told me to pray each day since I was a little girl, to pray that you borrow everything, everyone you love, from God. That way your heart doesn’t break when you have to give your son, or your mother, or your husband, back to God. I prayed, Jesus, let me be humble. I borrowed my child, I borrowed my husband, I borrowed my own life from you, God. But he felt like mine not like God’s he felt like mine more mine than anything.
God must have this huge horrible cabinet—all the babies who get returned—and all those babies inside, they’re all crying even with God Himself to rock them to sleep, still they want their mothers. So when I started to feel something for this baby, for your baby, I thought no, take her back God.
When I first met her all I could think was: she is alive and Henry is not. I had all this milk—I wished it would dry up. Just get through the year, I thought. Your milk will dry up and you will forget. The more healthy your baby got, the more dead my baby became. I thought of her like a tick. I thought—fill her up and then pop! You will see the blood of my Henry underneath. But she seemed so grateful for the milk. Sometimes I hated her for it. But she would look at me, she would give me this look—I do not know what to call it if it is not called love. I hope every day you keep her—you keep her close to you—and you remember the blood that her milk was made from. The blood of my son, my Henry. Good-bye, Mrs. Givings.
MRS. GIVINGS
Good-bye, Elizabeth.
Mrs. Givings touches Elizabeth’s elbow.
Elizabeth nods.
Elizabeth pulls away and exits, to the nursery.
MRS. GIVINGS
Thank you.
But Elizabeth is out the door.
Mrs. Givings, alone.
She moves toward the operating theater.
The doorbell rings.
It is Leo.
MRS. GIVINGS
You have made quite a mess of things for Elizabeth.
LEO
I know. I’m sorry. I’ve come to say good-bye.
I’m moving to Paris.
MRS. GIVINGS
When?
LEO
Tomorrow.
MRS. GIVINGS
Take me with you.
LEO
Are you out of your mind?
MRS. GIVINGS
You are surprised? It was you who seduced me!
LEO
What?
MRS. GIVINGS
All that talk of women, two-thirds done, that was me, you were talking of me, were you not?
LEO
I was talking of paintings. I—
MRS. GIVINGS
No one has ever spoken to me of those things before. Of beauty—of prostitutes, of—my God, of Italy. How could I have misunderstood your intentions? I’m in love with you.
LEO
Oh, dear Catherine I am afraid I cannot love you. If there is any type to whom I am attracted—it veers toward women with doe eyes. And your eyes are more—they are more—thin—the light bounces off of them rather than into them. And I cannot see your soul hovering here, where I would like to. Your soul is locked somewhere inside your body, so I cannot see it. Another man could perhaps bring your soul outside your eyes but it’s not me, I’m afraid. I do care for you though.
MRS. GIVINGS
Try. Try to bring my soul out—to here. If you look into my eyes—see—I will try.
Are you bringing another woman with you?
LEO
No—I am going alone.
Don’t you see? It is Elizabeth who I love.
MRS. GIVINGS
Elizabeth?
LEO
Yes.
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh—I see nothing, I understand nothing—my God, Elizabeth.
LEO
Yes. And she doesn’t care for me, not at all. I told her of my affections on our walk and she slapped me. No—I will go to Paris alone. I am married to my solitude.
MRS. GIVINGS
I can be your solitude. I will be quiet as a mouse. I understand solitude, I am very lonely.
LEO
I do not understand your loneliness, Mrs. Givings. You have a child, a husband—a home!
MRS. GIVINGS
Yes. I am very ungrateful. I am sure that God will punish me.
She tries to embrace him.
LEO
No. You do not love me. You only think you do. You love your husband. He is a good man. Good-bye, now.
He kisses her hands.
MRS. GIVINGS
Elizabeth is in the nursery. If you wish to say good-bye to her.
LEO
I can’t bear to see her. Just give her this, won’t you?
Leo kisses Mrs. Givings on the cheek.
LEO
Come visit me in France. I promise you—you’ll love the paintings.
He leaves.
She goes into the operating theater.
She plugs in the vibrator.
She puts it to her private parts but she is too sad for it to work.
She cries as it hums along.
Dr. Givings enters.
DR. GIVINGS
My dear, what on earth are you doing?
MRS. GIVINGS
(Bawling) I am alone.
DR. GIVINGS
You are not alone, I am here. Have you been using this instrument on yourself?
Dr. Givings shuts off the vibrator.
MRS. GIVINGS
I am so lonely—Elizabeth is leaving us—Leo is leaving us—everyone is leaving—you are gone—you are at the club, or in the next room, always in the next room, with the door locked. You see that women are capable of pressing a button themselves.
DR. GIVINGS
Darling—
MRS. GIVINGS
When you touched them, the other women, and Leo, with the machine, did you feel love for them, when you touched them there, was it like love?
DR. GIVINGS
No. I only wanted them to feel better.
MRS. GIVINGS
And when you married me, did you want to love me, or did you want to make me feel better?
DR. GIVINGS
A doctor wants to make everyone feel better.
MRS. GIVINGS
But did you want to love me?
DR. GIVINGS
Yes! And you—with your hands on other men’s faces—do you love them? Do you love Mr. Irving?
MRS. GIVINGS
A little.
DR. GIVINGS
I have a strange feeling in my stomach.
MRS. GIVINGS
What is it?
DR. GIVINGS
My eyes feel funny and my stomach feels jumpy. I believe I’m jealous.
MRS. GIVINGS
Give up your operating theater, darling.
DR. GIVINGS
And do what instead?
MRS. GIVINGS
Love me. Love me for your job.
DR. GIVINGS
All day long?
MRS. GIVINGS
All day long. I have heard that some women do not need the vibrating instrument to give them paroxysms, that relations with their husbands have much the same effect. Love me for your job.
DR. GIVINGS
I would like to love you.
MRS. GIVINGS
Would you?
DR. GIVINGS
Yes. I have not known how.
MRS. GIVINGS
You said to me when my hand was on another man’s cheek that there were all types and shades of love—But what is it then, this very particular way in which you love me? What color? What temperature? And please do not say: you are my wife, I am your husband.
DR. GIVINGS
I do not have the words.
MRS. GIVINGS
Please try.
DR. GIVINGS
That is why they have poets—to classify all the degrees of love. It is for scientists to classify the maladies arising from the want of it.
MRS. GIVINGS
Try.
DR. GIVINGS
Do not make fun of me. Do you promise?
MRS. GIVINGS
I promise.
DR. GIVINGS
(Kissing tenderly each place as he names it—all on the face)
I bless thee: temporomandibular joint
I bless thee: buccal artery and nerve
I bless thee: depressor anguli oris
I bless thee: zygomatic arch
I bless thee: temporalis fascia.
I bless thee, Catherine.
Mrs. Givings cries, it is so intimate.
MRS. GIVINGS
Open me.
DR. GIVINGS
Here?
MRS. GIVINGS
Away from the machine.
In the garden.
Undress me there.
DR. GIVINGS
You wish to undress in the garden in December?
MRS. GIVINGS
Yes, and please,
do not call me impractical. Our whole
future happiness depends upon it.
Dr. and Mrs. Givings kiss.
Although the domestic space seemed terribly permanent—a settee, a statuette—suddenly it disappears and we are in a sweet small winter garden. Snow covers trees that in the spring flower with pink flowers.
MRS. GIVINGS
Undress me.
Do not close your eyes, look at me . . .
He undresses her, partially.
DR. GIVINGS
The street lamps are coming on. Someone will see us.
MRS. GIVINGS
No one will see. They are not electric yet.
Thank God something still flickers.
She undresses him.
MRS. GIVINGS
Are you cold?
DR. GIVINGS
No. Are you cold?
MRS. GIVINGS
No.
We don’t need to see all of his body,
it is dark out—
but we do see the moon glowing off his skin,
off his back and shoulders.
He need not face us.
She has never seen him naked before—
she has only seen him under the covers.
MRS. GIVINGS
How beautiful you are! Your body!
I have never before seen that little bit there, under the covers—or that bit there, or this beautiful line here—
I have felt this shadow there but I have never seen it—how it curves—
Pointing to different lines on his body.
DR. GIVINGS
I am embarrassed.
MRS. GIVINGS
Don’t be.
Lie down and make a snow angel.
He lies on his back and makes an angel in the snow.
She lies on top of him.
They make an angel.
They make their wings go back and forth.
It snows on them.
Outside, on the street corners, the gas lamps go on, one by one, flickering, insubstantial.
DR. GIVINGS
Catherine.
MRS. GIVINGS
Oh, God. Oh, God, Oh, God.
And the rest of the lights go out.
The end.