LALO: [Looking at a clock on the table beside her, lazily] Only two o’clock. . . . Really, we didn’t have to leave so early, darling. . . . [ESTERHAZY does not answer. He does not seem to hear. There is no hostility in his attitude, but a profound indifference and a strange tension. He walks to the window and stands looking out thoughtfully, unconscious of LALO’s presence. She yawns, lighting a cigarette] I think I’ll go home. . . .


I said, I think I’ll go home. . . . [Coquettishly] Unless, of course, you insist. . . .


LALO: [She shrugs and settles down more comfortably. She speaks lazily, watching the smoke of her cigarette] You know, Rikki, we’ll just have to go to Agua Caliente. And this time I’ll put it all on Black Rajah. It’s a cinch. . . .


By the way, Rikki, my chauffeur’s wages were due yesterday. . . . [Turns to him. Slightly impatient:] Rikki?

ESTERHAZY: [Startled, turning to her abruptly, polite and completely indifferent] What were you saying, my dear?

LALO: [Impatiently] I said my chauffeur’s wages were due yesterday. 

ESTERHAZY: [His thoughts miles away] Yes, of course. I shall take care of it. 

LALO: What’s the matter, Rikki? Just because I lost that money?

ESTERHAZY: Not at all, my dear. Glad you enjoyed the evening.

LALO: But then you know I’ve always had the damnedest luck at roulette. And if we hadn’t left so early, I’m sure I’d have won it back.

ESTERHAZY: I’m sorry. I was a little tired.

LALO: And anyway, what’s one thousand and seventy something?

ESTERHAZY: [Stands looking at her silently. Then, with a faint smile of something like sudden decision, he reaches into his pocket and calmly hands her a checkbook] I think you might as well see it.

LALO: [Taking the book indifferently] What’s that? Some bankbook? 

ESTERHAZY: See what’s left . . . at some bank.

LALO: [Reading] Three hundred and sixteen dollars. . . . [Looks quickly through the check stubs] Rikki! You wrote that thousand-dollar check on this bank! [He nods silently, with the same smile] You’ll have to transfer the money from another bank, first thing in the morning.

ESTERHAZY: [Slowly] I have no other bank.

LALO: Huh?

ESTERHAZY: I have no other money. You’re holding there all that’s left.

LALO: [Her lazy nonchalance gone] Rikki! You’re kidding me!

ESTERHAZY: Far be it from me, my dear.

LALO: But . . . but you’re crazy! Things like that don’t happen like . . . like that! One sees . . . in advance . . . One knows.

ESTERHAZY: [Calmly] I’ve known it. For the last two years. But a fortune does not vanish without a few last convulsions. There has always been something to sell, to pawn, to borrow on. Always someone to borrow from. But not this time. This time, it’s done.

LALO: [Aghast] But . . . but where did it go?

ESTERHAZY: [Shrugging] How do I know? Where did all the rest of it go, those other things, inside, that you start life with? Fifteen years is a long time. When they threw me out of Austria, I had millions in my pocket, but the rest—the rest, I think, was gone already.

LALO: That’s all very beautiful, but what are you going to do?

ESTERHAZY: Nothing.

LALO: But tomorrow . . .

ESTERHAZY: Tomorrow, Count Dietrich von Esterhazy will be called upon to explain the matter of a bad check. May be called upon.

LALO: Stop grinning like that! Do you think it’s funny?

ESTERHAZY: I think it’s curious. . . . The first Count Dietrich von Esterhazy died fighting under the walls of Jerusalem. The second died on the ramparts of his castle, defying a nation. The last one wrote a bad check in a gambling casino with chromium and poor ventilation. . . . It’s curious.

LALO: What are you talking about?

ESTERHAZY: About what a peculiar thing it is—a leaking soul. You go through your days and it slips away from you, drop by drop. With each step. Like a hole in your pocket and coins dropping out, bright little coins, bright and shining, never to be found again.

LALO: To hell with that! What’s to become of me?

ESTERHAZY: I’ve done all I could, Lalo. I’ve warned you before the others.

LALO: You’re not going to stand there like a damn fool and let things . . .

ESTERHAZY: [Softly] You know, I think I’m glad it happened like this. A few hours ago I had problems, a thick web of problems I was much too weary to untangle. Now I’m free. Free at one useless stroke I did not intend striking.

LALO: Don’t you care at all?

ESTERHAZY: I would not be frightened if I still cared.

LALO: Then you are frightened?

ESTERHAZY: I should like to be.

LALO: Why don’t you do something? Call your friends!

ESTERHAZY: Their reaction, my dear, would be precisely the same as yours.

LALO: You’re blaming me, now!

ESTERHAZY: Not at all. I appreciate you. You make my prospect so simple—and so easy.

LALO: But good God! What about the payments on my new Cadillac? And those pearls I charged to you? And . . .

ESTERHAZY: And my hotel bill. And my florist’s bill. And that last party I gave. And the mink coat for Colette Dorsay.

LALO: [Jumping up] What?!

ESTERHAZY: My dear, you really didn’t think you were . . . the only one?

LALO: [Looks at him, her eyes blazing. Is on the point of screaming something. Laughs suddenly instead, a dry insulting laughter] Do you think I care— now? Do you think I’m going to cry over a worthless . . .

ESTERHAZY: [Quietly] Don’t you think you’d better go home now?

LALO: [Tightens her wrap furiously, rushes to the door, turns abruptly] Call me up when you come to your senses. I’ll answer—if I feel like it tomorrow.

ESTERHAZY: And if I’m here to call— tomorrow.

LALO: Huh?

ESTERHAZY: I said, if I’m here to call— tomorrow.

LALO: Just what do you mean? Do you intend to run away or . . .

ESTERHAZY: [With quiet affirmation] Or.

LALO: Oh, don’t be a melodramatic fool! [Exits, slamming the door]

[ESTERHAZY stands motionless, lost in thought. Then he shudders slightly, as if recovering himself. Shrugs. Walks into bedroom Right, leaving the door open. The telephone rings. He returns, his evening coat replaced by a trim lounging jacket]

ESTERHAZY: [Picking up receiver] Hello? . . . [Astonished] At this hour? What’s her name? . . . She won’t? . . . All right, have her come up. [Hangs up. Lights a cigarette. There is a knock at the door. He smiles] Come in!


Good evening, Miss Gonda.

KAY GONDA: Good evening.

ESTERHAZY: A veil or black glasses?

KAY GONDA: What?

ESTERHAZY: I hope you didn’t let the clerk downstairs recognize you.

KAY GONDA: [Smiles suddenly, pulling her glasses out of her pocket] Black glasses.

ESTERHAZY: It was a brilliant idea.

KAY GONDA: What?

ESTERHAZY: Your coming here to hide.

KAY GONDA: How did you know that?

ESTERHAZY: Because it could have occurred only to you. Because you’re the only one capable of the exquisite sensitiveness to recognize the only sincere letter I’ve ever written in my life.

KAY GONDA: [Looking at him] Was it?

ESTERHAZY: [Studying her openly, speaking casually, matter-of-factly] You look taller than you do on the screen—and less real. Your hair is blonder than I thought. Your voice about a tone higher. It is a pity that the camera does not photograph the shade of your lipstick. [In a different voice, warm and natural] And now that I’ve done my duty as a fan reacting, sit down and let’s forget the unusual circumstances.

KAY GONDA: Do you really want me to stay here?

ESTERHAZY: [Looking at the room] The place is not too uncomfortable. There’s a slight draft from the window at times, and the people upstairs become noisy occasionally, but not often. [Looking at her] No, I won’t tell you how glad I am to see you here. I never speak of the things that mean much to me. The occasions have been too rare. I’ve lost the habit.

KAY GONDA: [Sitting down] Thank you.

ESTERHAZY: For what?

KAY GONDA: For what you didn’t say.

ESTERHAZY: Do you know that it is really I who must thank you? Not only for coming, but for coming tonight of all nights.

KAY GONDA: Why?

ESTERHAZY: Perhaps you have taken a life in order to save another. [Pause] A long time ago—no, isn’t that strange?—it was only a few minutes ago—I was ready to kill myself. Don’t look at me like that. It isn’t frightening. But what did become frightening was that feeling of utter indifference, even to death, even to my own indifference. And then you came. . . . I think I could hate you for coming.

KAY GONDA: I think you will.

ESTERHAZY: [With sudden fire, the first, unexpected emotion] I don’t want to be proud of myself again. I had given it up. Yet now I am. Just because I see you here. Just because a thing has happened which is like nothing I thought possible on earth.

KAY GONDA: You said you would not tell me how glad you were to see me. Don’t tell me. I do not want to hear it. I have heard it too often. I have never believed it. And I do not think I shall come to believe it tonight.

ESTERHAZY: Which means that you have always believed it. It’s an incurable disease, you know—to have faith in the better spirit of man. I’d like to tell you to renounce it. To destroy in yourself all hunger for anything above the dry rot that others live by. But I can’t. Because you will never be able to do it. It’s your curse. And mine.

KAY GONDA: [Angry and imploring at once] I do not want to hear it! 

ESTERHAZY: [Sitting down on the arm of a chair, speaking softly, lightly] You know, when I was a boy—a very young boy—I thought my life would be a thing immense and shining. I wanted to kneel to my own future. . . . [Shrugs] One gets over that.

KAY GONDA: Does one?

ESTERHAZY: Always. But never completely.

KAY GONDA: [Breaking down, suddenly eager and trusting] I saw a man once, when I was very young. He stood on a rock, high in the mountains. His arms were spread out and his body bent backward, and I could see him as an arc against the sky. He stood still and tense, like a string trembling to a note of ecstasy no man had ever heard. . . . I have never known who he was. I knew only that this was what life should be. . . . [Her voice trails off]

ESTERHAZY: [Eagerly] And?

KAY GONDA: [In a changed voice] And I came home, and my mother was serving supper, and she was happy because the roast had a thick gravy. And she gave a prayer of thanks to God for it. . . . [Jumps up, whirls to him suddenly, angrily] Don’t listen to me! Don’t look at me like that! . . .

I’ve tried to renounce it. I thought I must close my eyes and bear anything and learn to live like the others. To make me as they were. To make me forget. I bore it. All of it. But I can’t forget the man on the rock. I can’t!

ESTERHAZY: We never can.

KAY GONDA: [Eagerly] You understand? I’m not alone? . . . Oh, God! I can’t be alone! [Suddenly quiet] Why did you give it up?

ESTERHAZY: [Shrugging] Why does anyone give it up? Because it never comes. What did I get instead? Racing boats, and horses, and cards, and women—all those blind alleys—the pleasures of the moment. All the things I never wanted.

KAY GONDA: [Softly] Are you certain?

ESTERHAZY: There was nothing else to take. But if it came, if one had a chance, a last chance . . .

KAY GONDA: Are you certain?

ESTERHAZY: [Looks at her, then walks resolutely to the telephone and picks up the receiver] Gladstone 2-1018 . . . Hello, Carl? . . . Those two staterooms on the Empress of Panama that you told me about—do you still want to get rid of them? Yes . . . yes, I do . . . At seven thirty a.m.? . . . I’ll meet you there. . . . I understand. . . . Thank you.


[He turns to her, his manner calm, matter-of-fact] The Empress of Panama leaves San Pedro at seven thirty in the morning. For Brazil. No extradition laws there.

KAY GONDA: What are you attempting?

ESTERHAZY: We’re escaping together. We’re outside the law—both of us. I have something worth fighting for now. My ancestors would envy me if they could see me. For my Holy Grail is of this earth. It is real, alive, possible. Only they would not understand. It is our secret. Yours and mine.

KAY GONDA: You have not asked me whether I want to go.

ESTERHAZY: I don’t have to. If I did—I would have no right to go with you.

KAY GONDA: [Smiles softly; then:] I want to tell you.

ESTERHAZY: [Stops, faces her, earnestly] Tell me.

KAY GONDA: [Looking straight at him, her eyes trusting, her voice a whisper] Yes, I want to go.

ESTERHAZY: [Holds her glance for an instant; then, as if deliberately refusing to underscore the earnestness of the moment, glances at his wristwatch and speaks casually again] We have just a few hours to wait. I’ll make a fire. We’ll be more comfortable. [He speaks gaily as he proceeds to light the fire] I’ll pack a few things. . . . You can get what you need aboard ship. . . .

I haven’t much money, but I’ll raise a few thousands before morning. . . . I don’t know where, as yet, but I’ll raise it. . . . [She sits down in an armchair by the fire. He sits down on the floor at her feet, facing her] The sun is terrible down in Brazil. I hope your face doesn’t get sunburned.

KAY GONDA: [Happily, almost girlishly] It always does.

ESTERHAZY: We’ll build a house somewhere in the jungle. It will be curious to start chopping trees down—that’s another experience I’ve missed. I’ll learn it. And you’ll have to learn to cook.

KAY GONDA: I will. I’ll learn everything we’ll need. We’ll start from scratch, from the beginning of the world—our world.

ESTERHAZY: You’re not afraid?

KAY GONDA: [Smiling softly] I’m terribly afraid. I have never been happy before.

ESTERHAZY: The work will ruin your hands . . . your lovely hands. . . . [He takes her hand, then drops it hurriedly. Speaks with a little effort, suddenly serious:] I’ll be only your architect, your valet, and your watchdog. And nothing else— until I deserve it.

KAY GONDA: [Looking at him] What were you thinking?

ESTERHAZY: [Absently] I was thinking about tomorrow and all the days thereafter. . . . They seem such a long way off. . . .

KAY GONDA: [Gaily] I’ll want a house by the seashore. Or by a great river.

ESTERHAZY: With a balcony off your room, over the water, facing the sunrise. . . . [Involuntarily] And the moonlight streaming in at night. . . .

KAY GONDA: We’ll have no neighbors . . . nowhere . . . not for miles around. . . . No one will look at me . . . No one will pay to look at me. . .

ESTERHAZY: [His voice low] I shall allow no one to look at you. . . . In the morning, you will swim in the sea . . . alone . . . in the green water . . . with the first sun rays on your body. . . . [He rises, bends over her, whispers] And then I’ll carry you up to the house . . . up the rocks . . . in my arms . . . [He seizes her and kisses her violently. She responds. He raises his head and chuckles with a sound of cynical intimacy] That’s all we’re really after, you and I, aren’t we? Why pretend?

KAY GONDA: [Not understanding] What?

ESTERHAZY: Why pretend that we’re important? We’re no better than the others.


KAY GONDA: Let me go! [She tears herself away]

ESTERHAZY: [Laughing harshly] Where? You have no place to go! [She stares at him, wide-eyed, incredulous] After all, what difference does it make, whether it’s now or later? Why should we take it so seriously? [She whirls toward the door. He seizes her. She screams, a muffled scream, stopped by his hand on her mouth]

Keep still! You can’t call for help! . . . It’s a death sentence—or this. . . . [She starts laughing hysterically] Keep still! . . . Why should I care what you’ll think of me afterwards? . . . Why should I care about tomorrow?