Act + 

I + 

A very large, rather dirty room, with whitewashed walls. To the left, in a niche, is a window, the only outside window in the room, opening on a courtyard. The light from it is so dim that even by day the electricity has to be turned on. + 

At the very top of the centre-back wall is a row of small dusty windows. They open on the circus hall. At night, when the performance is going on, a bright light shines through. By day they are dark. In the same wall is a large white door, reached by two stone steps, and nailed fast. + 

On the right, almost in the corner, is a high, wide, arched doorway which leads to the stables and the ring. By day it opens into pale darkness, at night into pale light. + 

The room is used for many purposes. It is the office of Papa Briquet, manager of the circus; here he keeps his little desk. It is the cloakroom of some of the actors. It is also the room where the cast gathers between calls, during rehearsals or performances. Again, it is a checkroom for used circus property, such as gilt armchairs, scenery for pantomimes, and other wares of the circus household. The walls are covered with circus announcements and glaring posters. + 

The time is morning. In the circus hall a rehearsal is going on, and preparations are being made for the evening performance. As the curtain goes up, the cracking whip and the shouts of the riding-master are heard from the ring. The stage is empty for a few seconds, then enter Tilly and Polly, the musical clowns, practising a new march. Playing on tiny pipes, they step from the dark doorway to the window. Their music is agreeable to the ear, but small, mincing, artificially clown-like, like their mincing steps; they wear jackets and resemble each other; same smooth-shaven face, same height; Tilly, the younger, has a scarf around his neck; both have their derbies on the backs of their heads. Tilly glances through the window, then they turn about, still marching. + 

Polly + 

Interrupting the march. Stop, you’re out again! Now, listen⁠—He stands close to Tilly and plays into his face. Tilly absentmindedly listens, scratching his nose. There! Come on now! They resume their music and marching. As they reach the door they meet the manager and Mancini; the latter walks behind the manager, and is gnawing at the knob of his goldmounted cane. Count Mancini is tall and slight. The seams of his clothes are worn and he keeps his coat buttoned tight. He assumes extremely graceful manners, takes affected poses, and has a special fondness for toying with his cane, with aristocratic stylishness. When he laughs, which happens often, his thin sharp face takes on a marked resemblance to a satyr. The manager, “Papa” Briquet, is a stout quiet man of average height. His bearing is hesitant. The clowns make room for the gentlemen. The manager looks questioningly at the older man. + 

Polly + 

With an affected accent. Our moosic for the pantomime! The March of the Ants! + 

Briquet + 

Ha! Yes! + 

The gentlemen walk in. The clowns resume their music, Polly marching on, then turning, the younger following. + 

Polly + 

Papa Briquet, Jack is working very badly today. + 

Briquet + 

What’s the matter with him? + 

Polly + 

He has a sore throat. You’d better take a look at him. + 

Briquet + 

All right. Come on, Jack. Open your mouth! Wider⁠—wider. Turns clown’s face to the light near the window and examines him closely and seriously. Just smear it with iodine. + 

Polly + 

I told him so. I said it was nothing! Oh! Come on. They go away playing, marching, practising their funny mincing steps. The manager sits down. Mancini strikes a pose by the wall, smiling ironically. + 

Mancini + 

So. You give them medical treatment, too! Look out, Papa Briquet, you have no licence. + 

Briquet + 

Just a little advice. They’re all so afraid for their lives. + 

Mancini + 

His throat is simply burnt with whiskey. These two fellows get drunk every night. I am amazed, Papa Briquet, to see you pay so little attention to their morals. He laughs. + 

Briquet + 

You make me sick, Mancini. + 

Mancini + 

Count Mancini is at your service! + 

Briquet + 

You make me sick, Count Mancini. You poke your nose into everything, you disturb the artists in their work. Some day you’ll get a thrashing, and I warn you that I shan’t interfere. + 

Mancini + 

As a man of superior associations and education I cannot be expected to treat your actors as my equals! What more can you ask, Briquet? You see that I do you the honour of speaking with you quite familiarly, quite simply. + 

Briquet + 

Ha! ha! ha! Slightly threatening. Really!⁠— + 

Mancini + 

Never mind my joke. What if they did dare attack me⁠—ever seen this, Briquet? He draws a stiletto out of his cane and advances it silently. Useful little thing. By the way, you have no idea of the discovery I made yesterday in a suburb. Such a girl! Laughs. Oh, well! all right, all right⁠—I know you don’t like that sort of sport. But look here, you must give me a hundred francs! + 

Briquet + 

Not a sou. + 

Mancini + 

Then I’ll take away Consuelo⁠—that’s all⁠— + 

Briquet + 

Your daily threat! + 

Mancini + 

Yes, my threat! And you would do the same, if you were as shamefully hard up as I am. Now look here, you know as well as I do that I have to live up to my name somehow, keep up the family reputation. Just because the tide of ill-fortune which struck my ancestors compelled me to make my daughter, the Countess Veronica, a bareback rider⁠—to keep us from starving⁠—do you understand⁠—you heartless idiot! + 

Briquet + 

You chase the girls too much! Some day you’ll land in jail, Mancini! + 

Mancini + 

In jail? Oh, no! Why, I have to uphold our name, the splendour of my family, laughs haven’t I? The Mancinis are known all over Italy for their love of girls⁠—just girls! Is it my fault if I must pay such crazy prices for what my ancestors got free of charge? You’re nothing but an ass, a parvenu ass. How can you understand Family Traditions? I don’t drink⁠—I stopped playing cards after that accident⁠—no, you need not smile. Now if I give up the girls, what will be left of Mancini? Only a coat of arms, that’s all⁠—In the name of family traditions, give me a hundred francs! + 

Briquet + 

I told you no, I won’t. + 

Mancini + 

You know that I leave half of the salary for Consuelo⁠—but⁠—perhaps you think I do not love my child⁠—my only daughter, all that remains to me as a memory of her sainted mother⁠—what cruelty! Pretends to cry, wipes his eyes with a small and dirty lace handkerchief, embroidered with a coronet. + 

Briquet + 

Why don’t you say, rather, that she is foolish enough to give you half her salary. You make me sick⁠— + 

Enter Zinida, the lion tamer; burningly beautiful, her self-confident, commanding gestures at first glance give an impression of languor. She is Briquet’s unmarried wife. + 

Zinida + 

To Mancini. Good morning. + 

Mancini + 

Madame Zinida! This barbarian, this brute may pierce me with his dagger, but I cannot control the expression of my love! Kneels facetiously before her. Madame! Count Mancini has the honour of asking you to be his wife.⁠ ⁠… + 

Zinida + 

To Briquet. Money? + 

Briquet + 

Yes. + 

Zinida + 

Don’t give him any. Sits down wearily on a torn sofa, shuts her eyes. Mancini gets up and wipes his knees. + 

Mancini + 

Duchess! Don’t be cruel. I am no lion, no tiger, no savage beast which you are accustomed to tame. I am merely a poor domestic animal, who wants, meow, meow, a little green grass. + 

Zinida + 

Without opening her eyes. Jim tells me you have a teacher for Consuelo. What for? + 

Mancini + 

The solicitude of a father, duchess, the solicitude and the tireless anxiety of a loving heart. The extreme misfortunes of our family, when I was a child, have left some flaws in her education. Friends, the daughter of Count Mancini, Countess Veronica, can barely read! Is that admissible? And you, Briquet, heartless brute, you still ask why I need money! + 

Zinida + 

Artful! + 

Briquet + 

What are you teaching her? + 

Mancini + 

Everything. A student had been giving her lessons, but I threw him out yesterday. He had the nerve to fall in love with Consuelo and stood there meowing at the door like a cat. Everything, Briquet, that you don’t know⁠—literature, mythology, orthography⁠— + 

Two young actresses appear, with small fur coats thrown over their light dresses. They are tired and sit down in the corner. + 

Mancini + 

I do not wish my daughter⁠— + 

Zinida + 

Artful! + 

Briquet + 

You are stupid, Mancini. What do you do it for? In a didactic tone. You are fearfully stupid, Mancini. Why does she need to learn? Since she is here she need never know anything about that life. Don’t you understand? What is geography? If I were the government I would forbid artists to read books. Let them read the posters, that’s enough. + 

During Briquet’s speech, the two clowns and another actor enter. They sit down wearily. + 

Briquet + 

Right now, your Consuelo is an excellent artist, but just as soon as you teach her mythology, and she begins to read, she’ll become a nuisance, she’ll be corrupted, and then she’ll go and poison herself. I know those books, I’ve read ’em myself. All they teach is corruption, and how to kill oneself. + 

First Actress + 

I love the novels that come out in the newspaper. + 

Briquet + 

That shows what a foolish girl you are. You’ll be done for in no time. Believe me, my friends, we must forget entirely what is happening out there. How can we understand all that goes on there? + 

Mancini + 

You are an enemy of enlightenment, you are an obscurantist, Briquet. + 

Briquet + 

And you are stupid. You are from out there. What has it taught you? The actors laugh. If you’d been born in a circus as I was, you’d know something. Enlightenment is plain nonsense⁠—nothing else. Ask Zinida. She knows everything they teach out there⁠—geography, mythology⁠—Does it make her any happier? You tell them, dear. + 

Zinida + 

Leave me alone, Louis. + 

Mancini + 

Angrily. Oh! Go to the devil! When I listen to your asinine philosophy, I’d like to skin you for more than a paltry hundred francs⁠—for two hundred⁠—for a thousand. Great God! What an ass of a manager! Yes, right before every one of them I want to say that you are a stingy old skinflint⁠—that you pay starvation wages. I’ll make you give Consuelo a raise of a hundred francs. Listen, all you honest vagabonds, tell me⁠—who is it draws the crowd that fills the circus every night? You? a couple of musical donkeys? Tigers, lions? Nobody cares for those hungry cats! + 

Zinida + 

Leave the tigers alone. + 

Mancini + 

Beg your pardon, Zinida. I did not mean to hurt your feelings⁠—honestly. I really marvel at your furious audacity⁠—at your grace⁠—you are a heroine⁠—I kiss your tiny hands. But what do they understand about heroism? An orchestra softly plays the Tango in the circus. He continues with enthusiasm. Hear! hear! Now tell me, honest vagabonds, who but Consuelo and Bezano draws the crowds! That Tango on horseback⁠—it is⁠—it is⁠—Oh, the devil! Even his fatuousness the Pope could not withstand its lure. + 

Polly + 

True! It’s a great trick⁠—wasn’t the idea Bezano’s? + 

Mancini + 

Idea! Idea! The lad’s in love, like a cat⁠—that’s the idea. What’s the good of an idea without a woman! You wouldn’t dance very far with your idea alone, eh, Papa Briquet? + 

Briquet + 

We have a contract. + 

Mancini + 

Such base formalities. + 

Zinida + 

Give him ten francs and let him go. + 

Mancini + 

Ten! Never! Fifteen! Don’t be stubborn, Papa. For the traditions of my house⁠—twenty. I swear⁠—on my honour⁠—I can’t do with less. Briquet hands him twenty francs. Nonchalantly. Merci. Thanks. + 

Zinida + 

Why don’t you take it from your baron? + 

Mancini + 

Raising his eyebrows haughtily, quite indignant. From the Baron? Woman! who do you think I am that I should be beholden to a stranger? + 

Zinida + 

You’re plotting something artful. I know you very little, but I guess you’re an awful scoundrel. + 

Mancini + 

Laughs. Such an insult from such beautiful lips. + 

Enter an “artist,” apparently an athlete. + 

Athlete + 

Papa Briquet, there’s a gentleman from beyond the grave asking for you. + 

Actress + 

A ghost? + 

Athlete + 

No. He seems alive. Did you ever see a drunken ghost? + 

Briquet + 

If he’s drunk, tell him I’m out, Thomas. Does he want to see me or the Count? + 

Athlete + 

No, you. Maybe he’s not drunk, but just a ghost. + 

Mancini + 

Draws himself together, puffs up. A society man? + 

Athlete + 

Yes. I’ll tell him to come in. + 

One hears the whip cracking in the ring. The Tango sounds very low and distant⁠—then comes nearer⁠—louder. Silence. + 

Briquet + 

Touching Zinida’s arm. Tired? + 

Zinida + 

Drawing back a little. No. + 

Polly + 

Your red lion is nervous today, Zinida! + 

Zinida + 

You shouldn’t tease him. + 

Polly + 

I played a melody from Traviata for him. And he sang with me. Wouldn’t that be a good trick to stage, Papa Briquet? + 

Thomas brings in the gentleman, points out the manager, and goes heavily away. The gentleman is not young, and he is ugly, but his rather strange face is bold and lively. He wears an expensive overcoat, with a fur collar, and holds his hat and gloves in his hand. + 

Gentleman + 

Bowing and smiling. Have I the pleasure of addressing the manager? + 

Briquet + 

Yes. Won’t you sit down, please? Tilly, bring a chair. + 

Gentleman + 

Oh! Don’t trouble. Looks around. These are your artists? Very glad⁠— + 

Mancini + 

Straightening and bowing slightly. Count Mancini. + 

Gentleman + 

Surprised. Count? + 

Briquet + 

Indignantly. Yes, Count. And whom have I the honour of⁠— + 

Gentleman + 

I don’t quite know myself⁠—yet. As a rule you choose your own names, don’t you? I have not chosen yet. Later you might advise me about it. I have an idea already, but I am afraid it sounds too much like literature⁠—you know. + 

Briquet + 

Literature? + 

Gentleman + 

Yes! Too sophisticated. They all look surprised. I presume these two gentlemen are clowns? I am so glad. May I shake hands with them? Stands up and shakes hands with clowns, who make silly faces. + 

Briquet + 

Excuse me⁠—but what can I do for you? + 

Gentleman + 

With the same pleasant, confident smile. Oh. You do something for me? No. I want to do something for you, Papa Briquet. + 

Briquet + 

Papa Briquet? But you don’t look like⁠— + 

Gentleman + 

Reassuringly. It’s all right. I shall become “like.” These two gentlemen just made remarkable faces. Would you like to see me imitate them? Look! He makes the same silly faces as the clowns. + 

Briquet + 

Yes! Involuntarily. You are not drunk, sir? + 

Gentleman + 

No. I don’t drink as a rule. Do I look drunk? + 

Polly + 

A little. + 

Gentleman + 

No⁠—I don’t drink. It is a peculiarity of my talent. + 

Briquet + 

Familiarly. Where did you work before? Juggler? + 

Gentleman + 

No. But I am glad you feel in me a comrade, Papa Briquet. Unfortunately I am not a juggler, and have worked nowhere⁠—I am⁠—just so. + 

Mancini + 

But you look like a society man. + 

Gentleman + 

Oh, you flatter me, Count. I am just so. + 

Briquet + 

Well, what do you want? You see I am obliged to tell you that everything is taken. + 

Gentleman + 

That’s immaterial. I want to be a clown, if you will allow me. Some of the actors smile, Briquet begins to grow angry. + 

Briquet + 

But what can you do? You’re asking too much. What can you do? + 

Gentleman + 

Why! Nothing! Isn’t that funny! I can’t do a thing. + 

Briquet + 

No, it’s not funny. Any scoundrel knows that much. + 

Gentleman + 

Rather helpless, but still smiling and looking around. We can invent something⁠— + 

Briquet + 

Ironically. From literature? + 

The clown Jackson enters slowly without being noticed by the others. He stands behind the gentlemen. + 

Gentleman + 

Yes, one can find something literary, too. A nice little speech for instance on, let’s say, a religious topic. Something like a debate among the clowns. + 

Briquet + 

A debate! The devil! This is no academy. + 

Gentleman + 

Sadly. I am very sorry. Something else then. Perhaps a joke about the creation of the world and its rulers? + 

Briquet + 

What about the police? No, no⁠—nothing like that! + 

Jackson + 

Coming forward. The rulers of the world? You don’t like them? I don’t either. Shake. + 

Briquet + 

Introducing. Our chief clown, the famous Jackson. + 

Gentleman + 

Enthusiastically. Great heavens⁠—you! Allow me to shake hands with you heartily! You, with your genius, you have given me so much joy! + 

Jackson + 

I’m glad indeed! + 

Briquet + 

Shrugs his shoulders; to Jackson. He wants to be a clown! Look him over, Jim. + 

Jackson makes a motion at which the gentleman hurriedly removes his coat and throws it on a chair. He is ready for the examination. Jackson turns him round, looking him over critically. + 

Jackson + 

Clown? Hm! Turn round then. Clown? Yes? Now smile. Wider⁠—broader⁠—do you call that a smile? So⁠—that’s better. There is something, yes⁠—but for full developments⁠—Sadly. Probably you can’t even turn a somersault? + 

Gentleman + 

Sighs. No. + 

Jackson + 

How old are you? + 

Gentleman + 

Thirty-nine. Too late? Jackson moves away with a whistle. There is a silence. + 

Zinida + 

Softly. Take him. + 

Briquet + 

Indignant. What the hell shall I do with him if he doesn’t know a thing? He’s drunk! + 

Gentleman + 

Honestly I am not. Thank you for your support, Madame. Are you not the famous Zinida, the lion tamer, whose regal beauty and audacity⁠— + 

Zinida + 

Yes. But I do not like flattery. + 

Gentleman + 

It is not flattery. + 

Mancini + 

You are evidently not accustomed to good society, my dear. Flattery? This gentleman expresses his admiration in sincere and beautiful words⁠—and you⁠—you are not educated, Zinida. As for myself⁠— + 

Enter Consuelo and Bezano in circus costume. + 

Consuelo + 

You here, Daddy? + 

Mancini + 

Yes, my child, you are not tired? Kisses her on the forehead. My daughter, sir, Countess Veronica. Known on the stage as Consuelo, The Bareback Tango Queen. Did you ever see her? + 

Gentleman + 

I have enjoyed her work. It is marvellous! + 

Mancini + 

Yes! Of course. Everyone admits it. And how do you like the name, Consuelo? I took it from the novel of George Sand. It means “Consolation.” + 

Gentleman + 

What a wonderful knowledge of books! + 

Mancini + 

A small thing. Despite your strange intention, I can see, sir, that you are a gentleman. My peer! Let me explain to you, that only the strange and fatal misfortunes of our ancient family⁠—“sic transit gloria mundi,” sir. + 

Consuelo + 

It’s a bore, Daddy⁠—Where’s my handkerchief, Alfred? + 

Bezano + 

Here it is. + 

Consuelo + 

Showing the handkerchief to the gentleman. Genuine Venetian. Do you like it? + 

Gentleman + 

Again bowing. My eyes are dazzled, how beautiful! Papa Briquet, the more I look around me the more I want to stay with you. Makes the face of a simpleton. On the one hand a count, on the other⁠— + 

Jackson + 

Nods approval. That’s not bad. Look here, think a bit⁠—find something. Everyone here thinks for himself. + 

Silence. The gentleman stands with a finger on his forehead, thinking. + 

Gentleman + 

Find something⁠—find something⁠ ⁠… Eureka! + 

Polly + 

That means found. Come! + 

Gentleman + 

Eureka⁠—I shall be among you, he who gets slapped. General laughter. Even Briquet smiles. + 

Gentleman + 

Looks at them smiling. You see I made even you laugh⁠—is that easy? All grow serious. Polly sighs. + 

Tilly + 

No, it’s not easy. Did you laugh, Polly? + 

Polly + 

Sure, a lot. Did you? + 

Tilly + 

I did. Imitating an instrument, he plays with his lips a melody at once sad and gay. + 

Jackson + 

“He Who Gets Slapped,” that’s not bad. + 

Gentleman + 

It’s not, is it? I rather like it myself. It suits my talent. And comrades, I have even found a name⁠—you’ll call me “He.” Is that all right? + 

Jackson + 

Thinking. “He”⁠—Not bad. + 

Consuelo + 

In a singing, melodic voice. “He” is so funny⁠—“He”⁠—like a dog. Daddy, are there such dogs? + 

Jackson suddenly gives a circus slap to the gentleman. He steps back and grows pale. + 

Gentleman + 

What!⁠—General laughter covers his exclamation. + 

Jackson + 

He Who Gets Slapped. Or didn’t you get it? + 

Polly + 

Comically. He says he wants more⁠—The gentleman smiles, rubbing his cheek. + 

Gentleman + 

So sudden.⁠—Without waiting.⁠—How funny⁠—you didn’t hurt me, and yet my cheek burns. + 

Again there is loud laughter. The clowns cackle like ducks, hens, cocks; they bark. Zinida says something to Briquet, casts a glance toward Bezano, and goes out. Mancini assumes a bored air and looks at his watch. The two actresses go out. + 

Jackson + 

Take him, Papa Briquet⁠—he will push us. + 

Mancini + 

Again looking at his watch. But bear in mind, that Papa Briquet is as close as Harpagon. If you expect to get good money here you are mistaken. He laughs. A slap? What’s a slap? Worth only small change, a franc and a half a dozen. Better go back to society; you will make more money there. Why for one slap, just a light tap, you might say, my friend, Marquis Justi, was paid fifty thousand lire! + 

Briquet + 

Shut up, Mancini. Will you take care of him, Jackson. + 

Jackson + 

I can. + 

Polly + 

Do you like music? A Beethoven sonata played on a broom, for instance, or Mozart on a bottle? + 

He + 

Alas! No. But I will be exceedingly grateful if you will teach me. A clown! My childhood’s dream. When all my school friends were thrilled by Plutarch’s heroes, or the light of science⁠—I dreamed of clowns. Beethoven on a broom, Mozart on bottles! Just what I have sought all my life! Friends, I must have a costume! + 

Jackson + 

I see you don’t know much! A costume putting his finger on his forehead is a thing which calls for deep thought. Have you seen my Sun here? Strikes his posterior. I looked for it two years. + 

He + 

Enthusiastically. I shall think! + 

Mancini + 

It is time for me to go. Consuelo, my child, you must get dressed. To He. We are lunching with Baron Regnard, a friend of mine, a banker. + 

Consuelo + 

But I don’t want to go, Daddy. Alfred says I must rehearse today. + 

Mancini + 

Horrified, holding up his hands. Child, think of me, and what a situation you put me in! I promised the Baron, the Baron expects us. Why, it is impossible! Oh, I am in a cold sweat. + 

Consuelo + 

Alfred says⁠— + 

Bezano + 

Drily. She has to work. Are you rested? Then come on. + 

Mancini + 

But⁠—the devil take me if I know what to make of it. Hey, Bezano, bareback rider! Are you crazy? I gave you permission for Art’s sake, to exercise my daughter’s talent⁠—and you⁠— + 

Consuelo + 

Go along, Papa, and don’t be so silly. We’ve got to work, haven’t we? Have lunch along with your Baron. And Daddy, you forgot to take a clean handkerchief again, and I washed two for you yesterday. Where did you put them? + 

Mancini + 

Ashamed, blushing. Why, my linen is washed by the laundress, and you, Consuelo, are still playing with toys. It is stupid! You’re a chatterbox. You don’t think. These gentlemen might imagine Heaven knows what. How stupid. I’m off. + 

Consuelo + 

Do you want me to write him a little note? + 

Mancini + 

Angrily. A little note? Your little notes would make a horse laugh! Goodbye. + 

He goes out toying angrily with his cane. The clowns follow him respectfully, playing a funeral march. He and Jackson laugh. The actors disappear one by one. + 

Consuelo + 

Laughing. Do I really write so badly? And I love so to write. Did you like my note, Alfred⁠—or did you laugh, too? + 

Bezano + 

Blushing. No, I did not. Come on, Consuelo. + 

They go, and meet Zinida, entering. Consuelo passes on. + 

Zinida + 

Are you going back to work, Bezano? + 

Bezano + 

Politely. Yes. Today is a very bad day. How are your lions, Zinida? I think the weather affects them. + 

Consuelo + 

From the ring. Alfred! + 

Zinida + 

Yes. Someone is calling you. You’d better go. Alfred goes out. To Briquet. Are you finished? + 

Briquet + 

Right away. + 

Jackson + 

Then goodbye till evening. Think about your costume, He, and I shall look for some idea, too. Be here at ten tomorrow. Don’t be late, or you’ll get another slap. And I’ll work with you. + 

He + 

I shall not be late. He looks after Jackson who goes out. Must be a nice man. All the people about you are so nice, Papa Briquet. I suppose that good-looking bareback rider is in love with Consuelo, isn’t he? Laughs. + 

Zinida + 

It’s none of your business. For a newcomer you go poking your nose too far. How much does he want, Papa? + 

Briquet + 

Just a minute. See here He. I don’t want to make a contract with you. + 

He + 

Just as you please. Do you know what? Don’t let us talk about money. You are an honest fellow, Briquet; you will see what my work is worth to you, and then⁠— + 

Briquet + 

Pleased. Now that’s very nice of you. Zinida, the man really doesn’t know anything. + 

Zinida + 

Well, do as he suggests. Now we must write it down. Where’s the book? + 

Briquet + 

Here. To He. I don’t like to write gives book to Zinida, but we have to put down the names of the actors, you know⁠—it’s police regulations. Then if anyone kills himself, or⁠— + 

Again comes the sound of the Tango, and calls from the ring. + 

Zinida + 

What is your name? + 

He + 

Smiling. He. I chose it, you know. Or don’t you like it? + 

Briquet + 

We like it all right⁠—but we have to have your real name. Have you a passport? + 

He + 

Confused. A passport? No, I have none. Or, rather, yes. I have something of the kind, but I had no idea the rules were strictly enforced here. What do you need papers for? + 

Zinida and Briquet look at each other. Zinida pushes the book aside. + 

Zinida + 

Then we can’t take you. We cannot quarrel with the police, just on your account. + 

Briquet + 

She is my wife. I hadn’t told you. She’s right. You might get hurt by a horse, or hurt yourself⁠—or do something. We don’t know you, you see. I personally don’t care, but out there, it’s different, you see. For me a corpse is just a corpse⁠—and I don’t ask anything about him. It’s up to God or the Devil. But they⁠—they’re too curious. Well, I suppose it’s necessary for order. I don’t know⁠—Got a card? + 

He + 

Rubs his head, thinking. What shall I do? I have my card, but smiles you understand that I don’t want my name to be known. + 

Briquet + 

Some story, hey? + 

He + 

Yes, something like that. Why can’t you imagine that I have no name? Can’t I lose it as I might lose my hat? Or let someone else take it by mistake? When a stray dog comes to you, you don’t ask his name⁠—you simply give him another. Let me be that dog. Laughing. He⁠—the Dog! + 

Zinida + 

Why don’t you tell us your name, just the two of us. Nobody else need know it. Unless you should break your neck⁠— + 

He + 

Hesitates. Honestly? Zinida shrugs her shoulders. + 

Briquet + 

Where people are honest, their word is good. One sees you come from out there. + 

He + 

All right. But please, don’t be surprised. Gives Zinida his card. She looks at it, then hands it to Briquet, then both look at He. + 

Briquet + 

If it is true, sir, that you are really what is written here⁠— + 

He + 

For heaven’s sake⁠—for heaven’s sake⁠—this does not exist, but was lost long ago; it is just a check for an old hat. I pray you to forget it, as I have. I am He Who Gets Slapped⁠—nothing else. Silence. + 

Briquet + 

I beg your pardon, sir, but I must ask you again, I must humbly ask you⁠—are you not drunk, sir? There is something in your eye⁠—something⁠— + 

He + 

No, no. I am He, Who Gets Slapped. Since when do you speak to me like this, Papa Briquet? You offend me. + 

Zinida + 

After all, it’s his business, Briquet. She hides the card. Truly you are a strange man. Smiles. And you have already noticed that Bezano is in love with the horse-girl? And that I love my Briquet, did you notice that, too? + 

He + 

Also smiling. Oh, yes. You adore him. + 

Zinida + 

I adore him. Now go with him, Briquet, show him the ring and the stables⁠—I have something to write. + 

He + 

Yes, yes, please. I am so happy. At last you have taken me, haven’t you? It is true⁠—you’re not joking. The circus, the tanbark, the ring in which I shall run getting my slaps. Yes, yes, Briquet, let’s go. Until I feel the sawdust under my feet, I shall not believe it. + 

Briquet + 

All right then. Kisses Zinida. Come on. + 

Zinida + 

Just a minute⁠—He! Answer me a question. I have a man who takes care of the cages, a plain fellow whom nobody knows. He just cleans the cages you know; he walks in and out whenever he wants to, without even looking at the lions, as if he were perfectly at home. Why is that so? Nobody knows him, everybody knows me, everyone is afraid for me, while⁠—And he is such a silly man⁠—you will see him. Laughs. But don’t you think of entering the cage yourself! My red one would give you such a slap! + 

Briquet + 

Displeased. There you are again, Zinida⁠—stop it. + 

Zinida + 

Laughs. All right⁠—go. Oh yes, Louis, send me Bezano. I have to settle an account with him. + 

He and the director go out. Zinida looks at the card once more, then hides it. She gets up and walks quickly up and down the room. She stops to listen to the Tango, which ends abruptly. Then she stands motionless, looking straight at the dark opening of the door through which Bezano comes. + 

Bezano + 

Entering. You called me, Zinida? What do you want? Tell me quickly, I have no time⁠— + 

Zinida looks at him silently. Bezano flushes with anger, and knits his eyebrows. He turns to the door to go. + 

Zinida + 

Bezano! + 

Bezano + 

Stops, without looking up. What do you want? I have no time. + 

Zinida + 

Bezano! I keep hearing people say that you are in love with Consuelo. Is it true? + 

Bezano + 

Shrugging his shoulders. We work well together. + 

Zinida + 

Takes a step forward. No⁠—Tell me, Alfred, do you love her? + 

Bezano + 

Flushes like a boy, but looks straight into Zinida’s eyes. Proudly. I do not love anybody. No, I love nobody. How can I? Consuelo? She is here today, gone tomorrow, if her father should take her away. And I? Who am I? An acrobat, the son of a Milanese shoemaker⁠—She! I cannot even talk about it. Like my horses I have no words. Who am I to love? + 

Zinida + 

Do you love me? A little? + 

Bezano + 

No. I told you before. + 

Zinida + 

Still no? Not even a little? + 

Bezano + 

After a silence. I am afraid of you. + 

Zinida + 

Wants to cry out, indignantly, but masters herself and lowers her eyes, as if in an effort to shut out their light; turns pale. Am I⁠ ⁠… so terrifying a woman⁠— + 

Bezano + 

You are beautiful, like a queen. You are almost as beautiful as Consuelo. But I don’t like your eyes. Your eyes command me to love you⁠—and I don’t like to be commanded. I am afraid of you. + 

Zinida + 

Do I command, Bezano? No⁠—only implore. + 

Bezano + 

Then why not look at me straight? Now I have it. You know yourself that your eyes cannot implore. Laughs. Your lions have spoiled you. + 

Zinida + 

My red lion loves me⁠— + 

Bezano + 

Never! If he loves you, why is he so sad? + 

Zinida + 

Yesterday he was licking my hands like a dog. + 

Bezano + 

And this morning he was looking for you to devour you. He thrusts out his muzzle and looks out, as if he sees only you. He is afraid of you, and he hates you. Or do you want me to lick your hands too, like a dog? + 

Zinida + 

No, Alfred, but I⁠—I want to kiss your hand. With passion. Give it to me! + 

Bezano + 

Severely. I am ashamed to listen to you when you speak like that. + 

Zinida + 

Controlling herself. One should not torture another as you torture me. Alfred, I love you. No, I do not command. Look into my eyes⁠—I love you. Silence. + 

Bezano + 

Turns to go. Goodbye. + 

Zinida + 

Alfred⁠— + 

He appears in the doorway, and stops. + 

Bezano + 

Please never tell me any more that you love me. I don’t want it. Otherwise I will quit. You pronounce the word love as if you were cracking me with your whip. You know it is disgusting⁠— + 

He turns brusquely and goes. Both notice He; Bezano, frowning, passes out quickly. Zinida returns to her place at the desk, with a proudly indifferent expression. + 

He + 

Coming in. I beg your pardon, but I⁠— + 

Zinida + 

There you are again, poking your nose into everything, He. Do you really want a slap? + 

He + 

Laughing. No. I simply forgot my overcoat. I didn’t hear anything. + 

Zinida + 

I don’t care whether you did or not. + 

He + 

May I take my coat? + 

Zinida + 

Take it if it’s yours. Sit down, He. + 

He + 

I am sitting down. + 

Zinida + 

Now tell me He, could you love me? + 

He + 

Laughing. I? I and Love! Look at me, Zinida. Did you ever see a lover with such a face? + 

Zinida + 

One can succeed with such a face⁠— + 

He + 

That’s because I am happy⁠—because I lost my hat⁠—because I am drunk⁠—or perhaps I am not drunk. But I feel as dizzy as a young girl at her first ball. It is so nice here⁠—slap me, I want to play my part. Perhaps it will awaken love in my heart, too. Love⁠—as if listening to his own heart with pretended terror do you know⁠—I feel it! + 

In the circus the Tango is played again. + 

Zinida + 

Listening too. For me? + 

He + 

No. I don’t know. For everyone. Listens to the music. Yes, they are dancing⁠—how beautiful Consuelo is⁠—and how beautiful is the youth. He has the body of a Greek God; he looks as if he had been modeled by Praxiteles. Love! Love! Silence, music. + 

Zinida + 

Tell me, He⁠— + 

He + 

At your service, Queen! + 

Zinida + 

He, what shall I do, to make my lions love me? + 

Curtain. + 