Felicity, horrified: Cut the trees? The elms? But they’re 200 years old, Henry James. You must be joking.

Henry James: I was joking. By the way, Bertram isn’t here? What’s he doing?

Felicity: He is studying as usual. You’re not ignorant of the fact that your son is preparing a thesis on Eastern philosophy? You must have heard, at the very least, some talk about the subject.

Henry James: Alas, yes. But I didn’t think that he had already taken up the practice of the fast.

Felicity: I announced earlier to you that she is going to be here tonight. The car has already left for London to fetch her.

Henry James: Is that so? I am so sorry, my mind must have been elsewhere.

Felicity: It’s quite possible. I hope, nonetheless, that you feel some joy at seeing her again, after six months.

Henry James: But of course, my dear. The fact that my children bore me terribly has not frayed my paternal fiber. Not more than our everyday discussions have chipped away the respect and affection that I bear for you. Would you, if you could, serve me some brandy here, Soames?

Henry James: Yes, if it’s not too much of a bother for you. That drawing room filled with hunting trophies and mounted animal heads exasperates me at times.

Henry James: I am an old Englishman, my dear. It’s only natural that I become eccentric in my old age. Did Bossy have a nice dinner?

Felicity: Bossy had a very, very nice dinner. Bossy is very happy, very, very happy, indeed.

Henry James: Is that true, dear Bossy? It is unbelievable how much we have in common, you and I... Since living in the company of that dead thing, I feel more alive, I see myself as a normal human being. We are both endowed with glassy eyes, straight, even stiff necks, mobility (he pushes it) and docility (he brings it back towards him).

Felicity: It’s odd that you should so prefer the company of that stuffed dog to mine.

Henry James: But not at all. Consider, my dear: you are of sound mind and body, full of ideas. Bossy and I are stuffed animals, that’s all. He is a dog on wheels – I am a man on wheels.

Felicity, indignant: But Henry James, you are not going to compare yourself to a dog, especially a dead dog!

Henry James: I don’t hear a thing. You are becoming most curious, my friend, you picture flashes of lightning in the blue sky, you hear horses running on the gravel in the middle of the night. It makes one feel positively blind and deaf. Is it boredom that gives you this exacerbated sensitivity?

Felicity: Boredom? You think that I have time for boredom? With this place that I have to run all by myself, day and night?

Henry James: This "myself" business is altogether too much. Dearest, you would perish if you didn’t run this place, as you say. Besides, rest assured, one always finds time to get bored, whatever the responsibilities or the role that one assumes. It is a matter of sensibility.

Henry James: My dear Felicity, after twenty years of marriage, you must know that I never insinuate anything. I say… I say what I have to say, that’s all.

Henry James: Don’t take it like that. I have nothing to say to anyone. Our journeys to London must have shown you that.

Felicity: It is true that you seem more distant in London then in the country. After all, Henry James, what is there to complain about? Your estate is restored, your children are in perfect health, you are living the high life, it seems to me, you have your books...

Henry James: But I’m not complaining. I assure you that I don't have the least amount of self -pity. It is almost sad: there was a time when I was very much interested...

Henry James: A Rolls doesn’t make any noise, my dear, according to the brochure, and in life as well, thank God.

Priscilla: I want to marry him, I want to marry him. I love him, Mummy, I love him frightfully.

Felicity: Priscilla... you are making me ashamed! Coming home like this with a stranger... in your parents’ house... Have you lost all sense of reason?... And you, Mr. Darsay, what effrontery of you to come here in the company of this child!

Hubert: Madam, I am bringing her back, which is already well and good, and with the commendable goal to marry her. I would have preferred to wait in Paris for your eventual invitation, but Priscilla would not hear of it.

Hubert: I am not crazy about it either. Once, my classmates called me "Hub," which exasperated me.

Felicity: That’s interesting, really! You see your only daughter come back in tears from the Continent, Henry James, and all you choose to do is…

Henry James: I find strictly nothing to do, my dear wife. I am baffled, like you. Do you wish that I go into a tirade about the awful Continent that corrupts the fruit of the English aristocracy? Do you wish that I take Mr. Darsay, who appears to be extremely civilized, by the collar and treat him like a child molester? What do you want me to do?

Felicity: But to stop joking, at the very least. Prissy, my little girl, what have you done?… Pass me my salts, Henry James...

Henry James, catching himself: I wanted to say that to me, it seems quite hasty. After all, it has only been six months that our daughter has been traveling, educating herself, et cetera, and frankly, I ask myself if Mr. Darsay has had the time to become used to her. To let this decision ripen. Do you hunt, Mr. Darsay, do you ride horses, do you swim? You must know that Priscilla is of the sporty lot.

Priscilla: Mummy, Daddy, don’t listen to him. He is marvelous. Tireless. I’ve seen him dance eight hours in a row.

Henry James: There is a difference, my child, between galloping in a forest, chased by the dogs’ barking, and galloping on a dance floor, chased by the barking of actual singers! There is an enormous difference indeed.

Felicity: Have you lost your head, Henry James? Perhaps you could ask Mr. Darsay about his exact intentions, what he wants to do, where he comes from. As for you, Priscilla, come with me. Your conduct is impertinent.

Henry James: Well, well, well. Would you be so kind – because you must – as to respond to my wife’s questions? If you recall them, of course.

Hubert: My name is Hubert Darsay. I was born in Chili, of a French father and mother, honorable family – if that exists. I work in a rubber export enterprise. I own a townhouse that your daughter knows. I am neither married nor a cocaine addict. I drink reasonably.

Henry James: Love is a child of fantasy, my friend, not… but let it pass. As you’ve surely noticed, there is a master player here, a mind, a direction: my wife. Convince her yourself. Marry Priscilla if you like. Your motives bore me if they are material, even more if they are sentimental. Priscilla, in any case, could support a dozen men and their mistresses, so… but let’s not discuss it. I would be delighted to have you for a son-in-law. Would you like anything to drink?

Hubert: Absolutely. So we shall consider it successfully done, my asking for your daughter’s hand?

Henry James: Done. Would you prefer cognac or whisky?

Hubert: Whisky: I am French. Do you know that this is one of the oldest bottles that I’ve ever seen?

Henry James: Is it? It’s a little sugary, in my opinion, but it drinks quite well. Ah! there’s my son.

Bertram, offstage: I heard the car. Has Priscilla come home?

Henry James: Bertram…

Bertram: Oh, pardon. (Enter Bertram. He is tall, rather good-looking and stiff.)

Henry James: Bertram… May I introduce you to my son, Mr. Darsay? Bertram, this man has decided to marry your sister.

Bertram: My sister?

Henry James: Yes, Priscilla. I am guilty of only two children, as far as I know.

Bertram: I apologize for interrupting you. You must have thousands of things to discuss.

Henry James: It’s done. It’s all done.

Bertram: Mummy is… er…?

Henry James: Mummy has some knowledge of this, is that what you mean? I do not know if she agrees to it. While waiting, Mr. Darsay and I are comforting ourselves. Would you like anything?

Bertram, firmly: No thank you. I am working.

Henry James: My son never drinks.

Hubert: Wouldn’t you like to drink a toast to my engagement, sir, even if it is uncertain?

Bertram: I do not think I should, sir.

Hubert: One day you’ll have to drink with your brother-in-law, whether it will be me or another. So?

Bertram: Alright. But I must warn you, alcohol makes me drunk. To your engagement! (He drinks. Already drunk) My father must have told you that I’m the black sheep of the family….

Henry James: I’ve advanced nothing of the sort.

Bertram: We’re an old English family. Yet it happens that the hunt bores me and that I have a weakness for matters of the mind.

Henry James: I’m sure that I will have discovered this for myself, sir.

(Henry James starts laughing.)

Bertram: Let’s drink to that! Yes, I find it more interesting to make use of this (he taps his forehead) than of my shins. Which makes my father despise me.

Henry James: Alcohol always had the effect of thunder and lightening on this poor boy. I don’t despise you by any means, Bertram, I’m simply afraid that you have more here (he taps his shin) than here (he taps his forehead). But, this much said, you are free to do as you wish.

Felicity: Henry James! It is about the future of your daughter. Stop joking. It is obvious that my daughter wants to marry you, Mr. Darsay. I will not hide from you that I thought she would marry the young Duke Philippe of Mastrough.

Henry James: What!? The thought of ten little Mastroughs sprouting in my living room – that’s horrifying.

Felicity: I imagine that my husband has spoken to you. And I imagine, since you are still here, that your inquiry was agreeable.

Henry James: All is well, my dear, all is well. Mr. Darsay can marry Priscilla with his eyes closed. I advised him all the same. Mr. Darsay comes from Mexico, exports guano, and owns a townhouse in Paris where he took our child. Priscilla could attest to its existence, if modesty did not prevent her from doing so. I give it over to you as a mother, Felicity.

Bertram: You joke too much, Father. You are thus revealing your bitterness, you don’t realize…

Henry James: And you don’t joke enough. Drink something, won’t you, to finish this business.

Felicity, alerted: Bertram... Darling... you are drinking? Henry James, you know that this child cannot handle alcohol!...

Henry James: That is not a good reason to restrict it from him. You know very well that I can’t handle Bertram, but I haven’t killed him for it.

Felicity: Pardon me, Lord Darsay, for all these emotions, I am just a poor woman. (She starts crying.) You will make my daughter happy, won’t you, if I am to agree with you?

Hubert: I promise you, in any case, not to make her unhappy. But who can command the happiness of another?

Henry James: A sign of nothing. A sign of prudence. Silence, my son. Felicity, I ask you to give our dear daughter to this man. I liked his phrase: Who can command the happiness of another?

Henry James: You do not "follow" me because you never did, my dear. And curiously enough, from time to time I wonder if it is not for this that I am most grateful to you.

Henry James: Because I could have believed otherwise, you see. I could have, just for a second... And these seconds are terrible, in the life of a man… or of a woman. They carry away decades, years, years of hope, therefore of stupidity… It’s clear, nonetheless. One can stray when one is thinking alone. By God, the folly of a look or gesture that one interprets solely according to his wishes. Felicity was a good wife in this respect: I could never make least error of misinterpretation. Everything always carried me back to the ideal base of the rich, polite Englishmen: boredom.

Felicity: No doubt, you would have been more amused with Rosemond Yecester. What a pity for you that she didn’t have a dowry, at least a dowry large enough to sustain you.

Henry James: Let us speak no longer about money, my dear companion, we have promised it to each other. You married a face and a name, a name that was already archaic, a face that is so now. Your thousands of pounds of sterling are still there. You won.

Bertram: Disgraceful exhibitionism. A European mania. Occidental, indeed. Russian, sometimes.

Henry James: Silence, peace, stupefaction, my son. Here is a young man with sharp teeth, pardon, white teeth, who is well-informed about our family life. There is an expression about this in France, isn’t there?

Hubert: Yes. Linge sale: dirty laundry.

Henry James: Alas, he is immaculate amongst us, no matter what happens. This evening performance has killed me. Not that it was anything exceptional – it was evident that Priscilla would not return alone, judging from her readings and her very sudden liberty – if I dare use this noble term in regard to her. But only because she had nothing exceptional. I am leaving you, my dear son-in-law, I am leaving you to contemplate the setting where this conjugal existence will unfold.

Hubert, admiring: It is superb.

Henry James: Admire, my dear friend, admire before hating. As for me, I’m going to get a breath of fresh air. (He exits.)

Felicity: This is too much. Come with me, Bertram, give me your arm. Good evening, sir. Till tomorrow. Soames will show you your room. I am heartbroken that I am unable to do it myself. But I am simply in pieces and Priscilla is waiting for me.

Hubert: Hello, Coralie?… Yes… Splendid. I drove thirty kilometers in the green country before finding the gate, and it all belongs to the little sweetheart. Listen. You must come here, my love. It’s superb. Superb and entertaining. There will be a double strike… I will explain. Listen carefully and do exactly as I tell you. So…

Enter Priscilla in a horseback riding habit, humming a folk song: "Three little ducks and two little rabbits…"

Priscilla: What has gotten hold of you? Such things cannot be found in books. Don’t you see… (A mischievous laugh.)

Bertram: If I understood you correctly, such things are found in Paris, aren’t they, my dear sister? Is that what you are trying to say?

Priscilla: Oh! Bertie… (Confidentially) Bertie, seriously, you ought to try it. You know, it’s divine.

Bertram: I would have liked to believe you, but as you already find the hunt divine, I should be careful. If I must come out of this sexual initiation exhausted, perspiring and disheveled as you are now, I’d rather pass.

Priscilla: Am I so disheveled? (A look at the mirror.) Heavens, what a horror!.. But after all, Bertie, you will very well have to, one day, even in the name of the family… the Chesterfields…

Bertram: I leave you the care of continuing our lineage. Personally, I have work to do. (He comes down.)

Priscilla: Come, why are you taking this dictionary?

Bertram: I am studying the philosophy of behavior, my dear Prissy, and the change of yours has become so striking since this most ridiculous, sentimental ado began, that you seemed to be a good example. That’s all. One uses the lab rats that one can find.

Priscilla, indignant: Me, a lab rat! How crass you are, Bertram!

Hubert: Divine. I must have broken eight ribs. The old nag is abominable and if that damned dog goes on following me everywhere, howling like mad, I will make somebody miserable.

Priscilla: You just don’t have your seat yet, it is normal that you fall off so often. Do you know that I have fallen off two hundred and thirty times in my life?

Hubert: Only that much? In the name of grace, Priscilla, try not to call me Hubby. I have the urge to whinny or move my ears like your favorite horse when you say that.

Priscilla: You found it delicious in Paris.

Hubert: You cannot imagine the number of things that are delicious in Paris and not elsewhere. It’s unbelievable. I wonder what happened to Coralie. Her plane was supposed to arrive at three, wasn’t it?

Hubert: We are very attached to each other, it’s normal. The instinct, as your father says. I haven’t any other family.

Priscilla, mischievously: Oh yes, you do.

Hubert, surprised: Oh no, I don’t. I swear to you I don’t.

Priscilla: You have a whole new family now, Hubby. My mother is your mother; my brother, your brother; my father, your father. I lend all of them to you.

Hubert: Thank you, "Prissy." You know how to comfort a man. (He kisses her forehead. She makes a gesture) Oh no! My darling, not after this hunt. I am drained of energy.

Priscilla, annoyed: You should drink less brandy with Daddy and eat more roastbeef, Hubby.

Hubert: I would’ve liked it if you left me to be the judge of my own actions, whether they are alimentary or amorous. I already have to bear the swervings of your horses; don’t add your own to the mix. Not at this pace. Now, don’t get angry. I wanted to tell you that tonight I probably won’t even be able to join you in your bedroom all decked with cretonne. And that if you continue to make me gallop all day round after a fox, we will have to find you a gardener like… er…. Emmy?.. Sophie?..

Hubert: She did well. God keep men from demanding young women. May God give them mature, satisfied women according to their measure.

Hubert: Coralie, you’re overdoing it. Take off your glasses, it’s bad for your sinusitis. (They hug, not very fraternally.)

Coralie: Take off my glasses? I just put them on. They’re never – Oh! excuse me, Miss, not only did I invite myself into your house, not very discretely, but I didn’t see you. (They shake hands.) I’m a little scatterbrained, I’m warning you, I read an essay by Heidegger on the plane, and he’s so lucid, so lively...

Coralie, clinging to her book: Give you this book? To a philistine like you? My brother is charming, Miss, but he only loves sports. Present him a fencing foil, put him on a horse… (Looking at him) This can do – but as for the Heidegger, no. No. Leave me this book. What a beautiful home, Priscilla! You will allow me to call you Priscilla, won’t you, we are sisters-in-law or almost...

Priscilla: I am so pleased to meet you, Coralie. Hubert was so impatient. Mummy will be down soon, it’s time for her confession. Daddy must be changing. He came to the hunt with us and fell in the pond.

Priscilla: Oh! He always falls when he get tired of the hunt, it allows him to come home. He’s not particularly athletic.

Priscilla: Would you like me to show you to your room, Coralie? The furniture will seem most archaic to you, I am certain...

Coralie: I imagine so… (Catching herself) What I mean is, one doesn’t hope to find too much Swedish furniture in an old Sussex manor, does one? Besides, you know, from the moment when I started to read Heidegger, the setting—

Priscilla: Excuse me, Coralie. I’m going to go upstairs to see if all is prepared in your quarters. Besides, you must have so much to say to each other, Hubby and you... (She leaves.)

Hubert: Listen to me. We’re saved. I marry the daughter, you marry the son. A rich marriage, two rich marriages, a divorce, a nice contract. You’re finished with the snack bars, the makeshift furniture, the fatigue. Finished if you play well.

Hubert: If you play the intellectual well. Bertram, your fiancé, is an intellectual. He loves nothing but that. Ideas, theories...

Hubert: How happy I am to see you! How beautiful you are. How funny in the role of an intellectual. Where is your hair?

Coralie: Paris is covered with debt; it’s exactly because of this that I’m here. (Looking around herself) My God, what a place! How is my room?

Hubert: Gothic. With a large fresco on the wall where someone in an Elizabethan costume is stabbing somebody else in a nightshirt.

Coralie: That’s comforting. After all… I imagine that a little English air won’t do us harm…

Hubert: I love you, Coralie. Tonight, I’m on holiday, I’ll spend the night with you in the Gothic chamber. God, when I think that I spent two hours chasing a fox, clinging to a horse’s mane...at my age?

Hubert: I’ll go change clothes. Priscilla is going to come meet you. Wait for her. (He exits.)

Henry James: "…come thick night and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife see not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark to cry, ‘Hold, hold!’" I hold my tongue. Miss. You must be Coralie. My greetings. Henry James Chesterfield. The father of the fiancé. You are alone, aren’t you?

Henry James: You must meet my son. You’re a kindred spirit to him. Have you met with your brother? Where is he? Dead asleep in his bed? The fox hunt is an ordeal the first time.

Henry James: The perfect fiancé. (He laughs) What do you think of this union, miss?

Coralie: I think it is most wonderful, sir. It was about time for my brother – actually, my half-brother – to settle down. Life in Paris is too dissipated for him. He is not made for it.

Henry James: Oh, there’s my wife. Felicity, this is Miss… er, the sister of your future son-in-law, pardon, our future son-in-law.

Coralie: Coralie Vernet. I am taking advantage of your hospitality, Madam, but my little Hubert so insisted upon it, and as an older sister, I felt obligated to pay you a visit, to see his happiness for myself, to…

Felicity: But this is so very touching. I am very, very happy to see you, Miss Vernet. You are always welcome at Wembling House. I know that Priscilla is taking care of your room. Would you like a cup of tea?

Coralie: I would prefer a large shot of whisky. (Felicity is startled.) Yes, tea is forbidden to me, alas! And whisky is recommended. Blood vessels, arteries, what do I know? It’s not even funny.

Felicity: I did not know that whiskey was a panacea, I’ve read in Esquire quite recently that—

Felicity: I am certain, Henry, that it was for reasons other than your arteries. By the way, it appears that Joke was crowned while jumping the great hurdle and Simple charged at Soames warning it. You must go see, Henry. Joke is a horse, Miss Vernet.

Coralie: Crowned? The poor animal... It appears that it would be extremely painful. Where could I have read this?

Henry James: I am sorry for Joke, but what can I do, Felicity? Call the veterinarian.

Felicity: You know quite well that there is a tradition that the masters of this house interest themselves in their animals. Neither Jones, nor the lads would understand that you are not coming to see it.

Henry James: It’s true. We are united for the best and for the worst. Excuse us for a minute, Miss Vernet. I am going to check Joke’s shin and I will return. Bertram! I am calling my son so that you won’t be alone.

Henry James: Miss Vernet, allow me to introduce you to my oldest son. Bertram, busy yourself with Miss Vernet, your mother is taking me to see a fallen horse.

Coralie: No, Mr. Chesterfield. To tell you the truth, I was reading and it puts me in a state of distraction or of total concentration. The stewardess had to buckle me for departure, unbuckle me for arrival, I have no more to tell you. Except for the fact that the plane did not crash.

Coralie: I like English literature, that is for me of principal importance. For literature, English, and for the philosophy, German.

Bertram: Have you read the 1935 edition, annotated by Brigon? I will lend it to you. But do you know that I am preparing a thesis on the Asian literature? You must read Mein-chu and Lien-tse, with all urgency. Unless it is already done…?

Coralie: I have indeed read a lot, Mr. Chesterfield. But I do not like engaging myself in a conversation on a subject so grave, I admit.

Bertram: Obviously. Excuse me, but it is quite – quite miraculous for me to find here someone who... someone that...

Coralie: Alas! We have a bit to think a lot about. And a lot to think a little. Can I ask you for a glass of whisky? (He rushes to do so.) You do not drink?

Bertram: I wanted to ask if the effect of the glucose and the ethyl vapors altered your cerebral matter.

Bertram: Sometimes, you see, it is enough to search for the right word to make a point clear. But many people hesitate to do it. By ignorance or by laziness.

Henry James: ...And I don’t want you to bring me to these spectacles any longer. The poor horse had the appearance of a suffering martyr. It was foul, Felicity.

Henry James: Oh? That is perfect, remarkably balanced. Our friend Hubert enjoys the hunt, Miss Vernet enjoys Confucius, my two children are going to be happy. At least sometimes.

Henry James: Humph! You understand me, finally. (To Coralie.) Excuse me, Miss Vernet, that injured horse made me nervous. I am an Englishman, isn’t that so?

Henry James, drinking: And if I call you Coralie, you will not be chilled? You’ll find it normal that I designate you by your name as if I knew you, as if I had the right to name you? You do not find that Coralie etiquette cold? By what right do people call themselves by their names, by what right do they not say Mr. and Mrs. all those years, the years before the power of whispering into the dark of a bed, Coralie?

Henry James: And even in bed, how does one dare to designate another being by his first name? For differentiating these names from others? For recalling that one is not in the arms of Sybil or Daphne? Why? For forgetting that Daphne was his happiness one or for putting it back into memory? Why one does not say "my love" in all honesty? Because one lives. And love no longer has a face, because it has had enough.

Henry James: I do not know a Daphne. It was an example. I express myself only with generalities, like all solitary men.

Henry James: Leave me in peace. You will never walk a mile in the shoes of another. While we’re waiting for that, when are we giving you a ball for celebrating this engagement? It seems to me that it is traditional, my dear Felicity.

Felicity: I wanted to speak to you about that. We must also give a ball in the honor of our charming visitor. I am afraid that the Mastroughs will not come, but we must invite them nevertheless. As well as the Descombs, the Farlaines, the ...

Henry James, without listening to her: You have noticed the expression of that horse, Felicity? That dreamy air, so naïve. If we are to believe that suffering makes these animals better, finer… Why does it transform human beings into scoundrels? Excuse me, Coralie, I am rarely vulgar.

Coralie: Yes. Stupid. Or vicious. Whatever is the situation here, whatever are your suppositions, stop acting like a character in a cartoon strip... Yes, you look like an omniscient Scottish God in a women’s magazine.

Henry James: Then stop speaking about Heidegger. And let down your hair. And put on make-up. My role is less of a burden than yours, I must tell you.

Henry James: The past, my dear. (A tennis ball falls at his feet, he throws it back. There is a "Thank you" in the background, near the tennis court.) How clumsy!... In fact, I do have a heavy past, my dear. Not one of fun, but of resignations. It is that which weighs the most, all things considered. No. No longer, no longer do I desire it. One becomes a curious animal, with a warmish skin, but with blood cold like a certain French dessert... What is it called?

Henry James: That’s it. I am an African in a shirt. That said, I loved someone a long time ago, I’ve known a thousand joys and then suffered a thousand deaths. But I was never able to draw any general ideas from these adventures. Simply some memories of the physique, the skin and the way of making love, the memories more incurable than any theory of the day.

Henry James: No. One does not get tired of someone, you know; rather, one tires of loving. Of testing love. One wants to be cold when the temperature rises, but one doesn’t want to get any more hurt if one’s heart is already hurting him. This is called experience.

Henry James: How should I know? Everyone’s stupidity, my stupidity. No money. And you, why leave your "brother" to play the fool with my youngest daughter?

Henry James: One must not be easily freed from you. You admit that he is behaving like an fool.

Coralie: But won’t you leave me alone? You ask a thousand outlandish questions, you mix everything up and I have to respond. It’s odious.

Coralie (One does not know which man she is speaking of): He is seductive and I am only a woman.

Henry James: My friend, I have warned you. For your road of life, here’s some good advice! If you are really exhausted, miss a ball and break your racket on your knee in sign of aggravation. It’s the "good form" to do this, and in the time that one goes to fetch another racket, one can regain one’s breath.

Henry James: If you wanted to lead a sedentary life here, you should have read Heidegger. I hold nothing against his pederasty, above all for Bertram, but it’s Miss Darsay who is reading Heidegger.

Henry James: It is enough for you to abstain from dropping your racket.

Henry James: Oh, but I do. I resembled him a little when I was his age, and the idea that he may resemble me at my age upsets me, that’s all.

Coralie: Why would you want to…?

Henry James: The setting, Coralie, the setting. Whatever may have been his first intentions, our lovable Hubert is fascinated by the pomp and circumstance, the security and the moral tranquility of our old dwelling-place. Can’t you see?

Coralie: Right. He is becoming absolutely silly. Pardon me.

Henry James: Don’t excuse yourself. Believe me, I myself was fascinated by the green of the lawns, the white china and the gold of the fish platters. This may seem sound, even reassuring, until one realizes that…

Coralie: That what?

Henry James: That everything reassuring in life, without our truly liking it, binds us in a manner frightening and insidious like serpents. These lawns are venomous and this beautiful house also. One realizes that it’s necessary to be free of everything in order to be free of oneself. And that one should never endure anything, ever, aside from passion; because precisely passion is not reassuring. There, I leave you to this beautiful philosophy. Here’s Hubert. You will have to live strictly by it with him. (He exits.)

Coralie: Where are your Amazon women?

Hubert: On all fours. They are gathering the balls. I can’t take it anymore. Look, has your seducer gone?

Hubert sitting down: Oh… for his age, he is rather good. But you would do better if you took care of Bertram. According to our plan…

Coralie: Oh please, leave your plan alone just for a moment. I take care of whomever I like.

Hubert: So you like him. You seem to be in an extremely bad mood, my dear sister… Kiss me.

Coralie: No. Go kiss your English candy. (With derision) "Hubby"!

Hubert: What’s the matter? You are bored – here? You don’t find this place charming? You know, it’s true what they say about the mad fun of doing a little sport. I’m hungry, I feel well, I like this park, this old house, these comedian hosts… you don’t?

Coralie: I know, it shows. You look like a hog in clover. Speaking of which, you have put on a little weight, my little dearie, be careful.

Hubert, panic-stricken: Put on weight… me? How?

Coralie: I don’t know. I have the impression that you have swollen from everything around you.

Hubert: Would you be jealous of my English candy?

Coralie: Ah, please, no. No, I am simply annoyed with Paris, with our friends, this Bertram is boring me stiff and life in the meadows also. I haven’t the slightest idea how you are going to pull out of this sinister story of marriage and contracts, but don’t count on me to imitate you. Besides, I feel ashamed.

Hubert, dumbfounded: Ashamed?

Coralie: Yes, as in ashamed. Henry knows everything, judges us, and this makes me shameful.

Hubert: But, if he admits that he knows everything, it can only divert him, you’ll see.

Coralie: I would prefer to divert him in another way. Don’t be mistaken! I would simply prefer not to serve as an example of all he says about humanity.

Hubert: Oh, that… He married his wife for her money, he made good use of it as far as I know, and now he is aging and getting bored, that’s all. He is reaping what he has sewn, as the poet said.

Coralie: How about you, what else are you thinking of reaping?

Hubert: Me? But… but me, that is not the same. Number one, I have you.

Coralie: I am under the impression that Henry also had a Coralie, would you imagine, and that he lost her. And that this can also happen to you. (She exits).

Priscilla: Peekaboo, who’s there?

Hubert: Oh no. No. Stop playing hide-and-go-seek behind the trees, stop playing your farces. I loathe farces.

Priscilla: My Hubby doesn’t love farces anymore? My Hubby doesn’t love his Priscilla anymore?

Hubert: Hubby is simply saying that… Oh come, I’m calling myself Hubby now! I am tired, Priscilla, that’s all. Do take away your hand, your mother can spring from the hedges any minute now.

Priscilla: Oh, Hubby, isn’t it delicious here?… (Lustfully) Hubby, we’ve never done that thing outside.

Hubert: You have a very curious sense of modesty. By George, leave me alone, Priscilla, I told you that I am tired. Wait till tonight, for pity’s sake.

Priscilla: I love you sooo much, Hubby. Hubby, you do realize that in fifteen days, we will be married, that we shall live in the same room, finally.

Priscilla: We shall never have to leave each other after. You will stay in my arms all night long… Oh, Hubby, where did you go last night, leaving me all alone? You forgot you lighter, and I couldn’t find you in your room when I wanted to bring it to you.

Hubert: What? My lighter? Last night? Er… where was I? Ah! right, I was bringing Coralie aspirin.

Hubert: Yes. She left a note on my pillow, saying that she was suffering from a terrible migraine.

Priscilla: Hubby, I must be crazy, but from time to time I’m jealous of Coralie. You laugh with her all the time, you look at her, you…

Felicity: There are things that a young lady does not do before her marriage, and I shall speak to you about them in due time.

Felicity: …but you are a man, and responsible for protecting the honor of my daughter, even against her will.

Felicity: End of the incident. Come with me, Priscilla, you shall take a bath in my chambers, we must consult each other about the guest list for the reception tomorrow. I had them send ten additional lackeys from London, who are simply repulsive. Those city dwellers don’t know how to train their men with poise anymore.

Henry James: You seem to be concerned, my friend. A Scotch? Did you lose the match?

Henry James: A glass of soda water? It is so difficult to lose elegantly. It would be funny to check your reflexes.

The Young Englishman: My name is Humphrey Darton, I am a baronet, I have one hundred thousand pounds in bonds, I graduated from Oxford, I learned love from a Frenchwoman, I like traveling, the French Riviera, and polo. I have a good character, my family isn’t intrusive.

Humphrey: My uncle Chesterfield claims that if one knew people, one would never marry them… and I am very confident in him.

Humphrey: My uncle Chesterfield is an elegant man. You see, he married my Aunt Felicity for her money. No one is ignorant of this fact; in truth, no one was ignorant of it at the time, but actually, no one can be sure of it, either.

Humphrey: That we were waiting for him to run off across the continent with her dowry right after the marriage or officially take a mistress in London. Then, nothing. You see, I find this rather snobbish, fidelity; when it is so unexpected, of course!

Coralie, imitating him, in a snobbish tone: Because otherwise – I want to say in case of mutual love – you don’t find fidelity very elegant?

Humphrey: No, not very. I find it positively unbearable.

Coralie: You must have a terrible temperament!

Humphrey, defending himself: Oh no, not at all. Absolutely not, you must be joking. I was speaking of public fidelity, right? Young couples who still have the air of it after six months, you see?

Coralie: Hence, if I married you, I would’ve had to cheat on you after how much time, to remain fashionable?

Humphrey: Oh… er… what I mean is, it would be up to me to begin. I guarantee you that I haven’t the slightest wish…

Coralie: You haven’t the wish to cheat on me? But that is miraculous… after half-an-hour… I must be an exceptional spouse…

Humphrey: I am persuaded that this is so. That is why I am reiterating my demand.

(Enter Bertram with a somber expression.)

Bertram: These balls are extremely depressing. Besides, I detest dancing, just like any form of exhibitionism. What are the two of you speaking about, Humphrey?

Bertram: I am deeply sorry, it is entirely impossible. I was counting on marrying Coralie.

Bertram: I am deeply sorry that I haven’t spoken to you about this sooner, dear Coralie. But I was observing you. And my worldview could have influenced your behavior. It is evident that we have the same taste, the same intellectual interests. I was thinking of warning you of my intention tomorrow, but my cousin obliged me to…

Coralie: But tell me, did you both help yourself to a little too much champagne? First of all, why would I want to get married?

Coralie: You must have read this in Freud, Bertram, and you, sir, in Playboy. Well, no, I don’t want to get married. Let’s go dance.

Coralie: Really! And you, Bertram, must I cheat on you too? Yes, your cousin maintains the opinion that one has to be a little adulterous to be decent in London.

Bertram: Oh! you know, it’s an old prejudice, very much outdated. Personally, I absolutely don’t care if we cheat on each other, once we are married.

Humphrey, chivalrously: I am ready to forsake it as well, of course.

Coralie: All fair and good. Dear sirs, you must be modern. And I admit that it would please me and especially the Frenchwoman in me to bring the fashion of fidelity to England. But to which one of you? Which of you should I be faithful to? One has to be in love, they say, to be faithful. Yet, I am actually not – with either of you.

Humphrey: In any case, you don’t have to be in love to marry me.

Coralie: But why should I marry you, otherwise?!

Humphrey: I don’t know. But, after all, I am not ugly, I am rich…

Coralie: But I’m not.

Humphrey: That’s true! What a bother! It’s crazy how rich women are easier to marry than other women.

Bertram: Your causes for proposing seem very base, Humphrey, and Coralie is making it clear to you. I would be grateful if you didn’t bother her any longer.

Humphrey: I had to keep you in line enough at Oxford, my dear Bertram; I wouldn’t like to start again…

Bertram: It would be on pistols, Humphrey, and right away.

Coralie: Gentlemen, you promised me to be modern. You’re not going to try to kill each other with rusty guns in the dark, this night of the party. Come now, let’s go dance.

Bertram: My dear Coralie, it is not a question of dancing at this point. Here is what I propose. We shall wait for the Priscilla’s wedding, on which date we shall announce our engagement. We shall marry quickly. Then we shall leave for Asia, more precisely, for Tibet, where I have some lamas to interview. This honeymoon will be functional, and, furthermore, won’t be totally fruitless.

Coralie: Interview some lamas in Tibet... a honeymoon that is not totally fruitless... (She shakes with laughter) Help! I can’t take it anymore...

Humphrey: You are right, Coralie, a young woman in Tibet! I am going straight away to announce it to my mother, who is dancing over there, my intentions of marrying you, and, if she agrees, which I don’t doubt, we shall marry tomorrow. We shall go down to my mother’s house on the Riviera; we shall go water skiing with her; the dear old woman won three trophies last summer.

Coralie, wiping her eyes: Leave your mother alone. I only want two things: a glass of champagne and to go dance.

Coralie: But neither, neither. Neither one nor the other. Neither the philosopher nor the perfect son. Isn’t it clear?

Coralie: But this is too much! Ah, help, help... What do I do with two fools in a smoking room?

Henry James: Did you call for help, my dear child? Are these two young men being disrespectful to you?

Coralie: But it is much worse then that: they want to marry me. And they refuse to believe that this means nothing to me.

Humphrey: Uncle Henry... You said to me one day: "If you fall in love with a woman, don’t ask questions. Take her by the arm, marry her and live with her." It’s true, isn’t it?

Henry James: It’s true. I thought that you would fall in love with an object like all young men in your family. But Coralie is not an object.

Bertram: You are right, father. Coralie is not an object, Coralie is an thinking creature. That is why I’ve taken to marry her.

Henry James: Young men, you are tiring Miss Vernet. Return to the ball, I am going to speak to her about you.

Henry James: Well, well, I have rescued you, my beautiful lady, from these two mercenaries who wanted your virtue.

Henry James, showing a portrait: At any rate, my ancestor Chesterfield, the first baronet of the name, would be proud of my chivalrous act.

Henry James: He tried, during a good part of the Hundred Years’ War, to kick the French out of France. The ardor of his efforts, joined with their vanity, earned him the king’s recognition, as usual. Why don’t you want to marry one of those young men?

Coralie: I have a phobia for rings. I cannot manage either white gloves or wedding rings.

Henry James: That is certainly a reason. Anyway, if I am obligated to recommend one of the two, I would recommend Bertram.

Henry James: This is already greatly amusing, dear Coralie. I usually throw myself behind a shield as soon as I hear a step, fearing that it be a member of my family, but now I am finding myself looking for your company. Even if I were the age of my already hardened arteries, this would almost worry me.

Henry James: Bought men do not have an age, in the strictest sense. They have either the age of their buyer, or the age that the buyer desires, in the least convenient cases. (Pause) You are very beautiful, tonight, Coralie. Is it on purpose?

Coralie, lightly: On purpose for whom? For you? For you, who are without age or desire? For you who love no one and who believes you have loved, maybe, a hundred years ago – who loved a woman whose name you forgot? On purpose for this gentleman – tired and loquacious? Kiss me, Henry. (He does nothing). Kiss me or I will call you Henry James.

Henry James: I gave up only at that threat. (He laughs) My God, it’s been a horribly long time since I kissed a pretty woman. To what whim do I attribute this?

Henry James: Of course. (Pause) Is the fiancé of my daughter behaving well? Does he dance lambeth-walk as gracefully as both-kiss?

Coralie: You believe that I kissed you to revenge myself on him? Are you so unsure of yourself?

Henry James: That is quite long, in fact. What are you planning to do? To abandon him to the perfidious dweller of the Albion, to pose him an ultimatum, or to wait gaily in Paris for him to come again with Priscilla’s dowry? You know, it will not be so simple, after all. My wife is a woman of business. And it is not the idea of a divorce that will frighten her.

Coralie: Since you know, why don’t you intervene? You are the father, after all.

Henry James: Father, father… I’m as much a father as I am a husband. I don’t wish Priscilla misfortune, but I will not go as far as to wish her happiness. She bores me.

Felicity: Henry James... finally. I have been looking for you for an hour. Lord MacMuddy wants to greet you. And you, my dear Coralie? All the young men are looking for you. Heavens, how mild it is here... the ballroom is a oven. Henry James, are you coming, finally? You are dazzling tonight, Coralie. Everyone is asking me about you.

Henry James: I am coming with you. (Turning around.) By the way, Coralie, thank you for now. It was delightful. Should we resume another time?

Henry James: Thank you. I will explain later, Felicity.

Hubert: Oh, here you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. And you are alone? It’s a miracle. What were these English rascals circling around you for? We weren’t able even to dance to our song together.

Hubert: Absolutely. It took me an hour to get the orchestra to play Stardust and, when I went to find you, you were dancing cheek to cheek with that oaf, Bertram. What a party!… It’s nice, going to balls with you.

Hubert: Don’t give me any of this. I find that you are behaving badly, that’s all. You dance with strangers, you disappear with Henry, as if by coincidence, you—

Coralie: So, because I’ve worn for ten days, according to your instructions, glasses and the costume of a schoolgirl, you have forgotten that I am still a woman.

Coralie: Don’t tell me about the human debris left by two hours of hunting, three hours of tennis, and an hour of English nymphomania that I’ve received in my bed these last times. Don’t invoke my maternal feelings.

Coralie: But nothing, my dear, nothing. I am dancing at this ball, I am going to your wedding, I am setting off for Paris. While waiting, I am flirting a little. In fact, very little. It’s my right, no?

Hubert: No. You know very well that everything I do is for you, for me, for us. For your well-being, your security, your life to come…

Coralie: Right now, it’s for us. You are boring me, I am going to return to Humphrey what’s-his-name who wants to marry me and take me water skiing.

Coralie: No. He has all of his hair, but not much else below it, I am afraid. By the way, Bertram asked me to marry him. Him too.

Coralie: First of all, he’s not at all like a caterpillar. I don’t know what term you were looking for, but caterpillars, they turn into butterflies at some point. Besides, that was your initial plan, wasn’t it?

Hubert: My plan, my plan…Evidently, it was my initial plan: a superb plan, at that. We would live here together; in a year, everyone would catch on to our affair and then… a sister-in-law, a brother-in-law, it would be too much.

Hubert: You shouldn’t have flirted with him or pranced around with your shoulders naked under the lewd eyes of these blasted Englishmen. You had to marry Bertram in the end.

Coralie: Oh! Bravo! And how to seduce him? Talking to him about Heidegger? Me? You are rather illogical, you know.

Hubert, whining: I’m jealous, darling. I am stupid and I was brought up poorly, but I am in love with you, darling.

Coralie: Would you like us to leave? Right away? (Pause; he turns his eyes away.) Fine. I’ll see you soon. (She exits.)

Bertram, in tears: I don’t want her to leave, Mummy, I want to marry her, I want to live with her, to take her in my arms, to hold her, all my life, I want to…

Felicity: Bertram… my son… whatever your affliction may be, stay proper. You are speaking to your mother.

Bertram: That doesn’t matter. I want Coralie, I want her all to myself. We shall look at the stars together, I shall teach her astronomy, we shall have many children. Mummy, don’t let her leave. I shall die without her, I shall let myself die of starvation, I swear to you by the first Baronet Chesterfield, I cannot live without her… (Henry James enters during Bertram’s speech.)

Henry James: But what is going on here? Your wails are shaking the walls, Bertram! And you, weeping mother, could you explain to me what is going on here?

Henry James: Bertram, it seems that Coralie has refused your hand. To insist would be rather inappropriate, my dear child.

Bertram: I could not live without her, I want her, I need her blond hair, her smile, the echo of her voice, the softness of her look. (He sobs.)

Henry James: Sweet Jesus, what language!… Now, my son, what about your Chinese philosophers? Haven’t they taught you that all the good in this world – including the consummation of desires – is in vain? Think about Mein Chu, think of Confucius.

Bertram, in tears: They are all bloody imbeciles, Daddy, I don’t want to live with my books anymore, I want a woman!

Felicity: Don’t laugh, Henry, you see very well that the child is suffering. Where are you coming from, by the way? Soames told me that you had left for the countryside, taking the two Tudor sugar bowls with you. I was surprised.

Henry James: I… I’ve been spoiling the horses a little. Those poor animals get bored without sugar, you know. Our guest has not come down yet?

Felicity: She has to finish packing her luggage. (Bertram is sniffling.) Oh no, Bertram, contain yourself. You are a Chesterfield, after all. Don’t forget that. If you won’t have forgotten Coralie in a month, we’ll send you to Europe, you’ll see. Even though these trips on the continent do seem rather perilous.

Henry James: Your mother is right, Bertram, don’t worry. Go take a little walk outside, your eyes are as red as an albino rabbit’s. This isn’t very becoming. At least Coralie should remember you as a presentable suitor. (Bertram leaves, sobbing.)

Felicity: She has one hour to cover fifty kilometers.

Henry James: Ah, there you are. (Offstage) Come hither, my man. (He claps his hands. Enter a man with a bagpipe, dressed in a kilt.)

Felicity: Soames… what are you doing in this garb?

Henry James: It’s an old Chesterfield costume, my dear, a little damaged by disuse, I admit. Thank you, Soames.

Henry James: Isn’t it? My grandfather had this song played at the departure of each guest. At the end of his life, destitute, and thus friendless, he had it played by an old, faithful servant on those rare occasions when the butcher sent a boy to deliver meat. Pardon me for these historic details.

Coralie: It is very nice of you, nonetheless. (Henry James bows deeply.) I must thank you infinitely, Madam, it was a delightful stay. I am sorry that I must go before the ceremony.

Felicity: I cannot understand where Smith went with the car, I told him to be here exactly at 10 A.M. Soames, would you go see to it? While waiting, I kiss you, my dear Coralie, and I do hope that we will see each other very soon. Bertram asks you to excuse him, he is suffering frightfully and he went to calm down in the garden.

Hubert: I’ll see you soon, Coralie, don’t forget.

Felicity: But after all, where is Smith? There is only one train for the ferry, and they’re going to make you miss it. Fifty kilometers on these winding little roads would certainly need at least an hour.

Henry James: That’s very curious. Smith is the definition of punctuality. We can say goodbye again, I suppose.

(Re-enter Soames, breathless. He whispers into Felicity’s ear.)

Felicity: What? What are you saying? But that’s impossible, Soames. Out of five Rolls-Royces, there must be one that runs.

Soames: I am devastated, Milady, Smith has tried all of them. He even tried to run the estate car used for the hunt. Not a single car runs.

Felicity: But this is insane. I was just visiting the office with Lady MacKanze this morning, driving in the gray Rolls. It was a perfectly good ride.

Soames: Smith imagines that someone put something in the gas tanks, Milady. It seems like the motors choke as soon as he releases the starter.

Henry James: Don’t faint. Above all, it’s bothersome for Coralie. The train will leave without her, and there won’t be another one until tomorrow. At least don’t let her go back to the train station on horseback. She would set a record. A horse traveling forty kilometers per hour, and Coralie, who is unfamiliar with horse-riding…

Felicity: Quit joking… What could one have put in those tanks, Soames? A detonator? Does someone want us all to die?

Henry James: Someone decided to exterminate the noble race of Chesterfields? Are we in Macbeth’s castle? (He falls into an armchair with a look of terror).

Felicity: Henry James!… Soames, I want the truth about this affair. Make an inquiry. I am so sorry, Coralie, about this incident. Sorry, but overjoyed because you can spend one more day with us.

Felicity: Come now, Henry, think. The murder attempt happened between my return from the office and the moment when you went to give the horses some sugar. Did you see a stranger at the estate?

Henry James: You would do better to go console your brother who is wandering on the lawn intending to jump under the wheels of whatever vehicle carries Coralie.

Hubert: Do you think I know? Come on, Priscilla. See you soon, Coralie. You should unpack your suitcase while you’re waiting.

Felicity: Excuse me, Coralie, but I would like to relieve my own mind. I am going to lead the inquiry myself and go as far as the commoners, if I must. Are you coming, Henry James?

Coralie: There’s a funny coincidence: one of my friends wrecked his car by throwing a few bits of sugar into the tank.

Henry James: It must have been not a very commendable friend. But the coincidence is curious, as a matter of fact. Likewise, no one could seriously imagine me destroying five Rolls Royces that were paid by my wife’s fortune. Especially, in order to detain my son-in-law’s half-sister twenty-four hours more.

Coralie: Evidently. Well then, I shall go unpack my suitcase so that I shall have an appropriate gown tonight. (She heads for the door.)

Coralie: But are you lunatic? What is this schoolboy prank? Are you Baronet Chesterfield or some sort of a Frankenstein’s monster?

Henry James: I was always a little crazy, and it upset me that you were going to leave today. For another thing, you cannot imagine the sadistic thrill of pouring out a Tudor sugar bowl into a Rolls-Royce that stood there, calm and composed as ever.

Coralie: I can imagine it quite well. And besides, you were rolling about with laughter in your armchair. What does it matter to you if I leave today or tomorrow?

Henry James: You kissed me the day before yesterday at the ball and we haven’t had the occasion to resume. I was hoping that we could find this occasion today.

Henry James: There. But you missed the train, in any event. Are you angry at me?

Henry James: Because I am afraid, I suppose. I can feel this drowsy old heart stir up in me once again and it troubles me. Coralie, inasmuch as I am responsible for your presence here, may I make it up to you? Devote my time and myself, all that remains of me, to you, all afternoon? May I take you, on foot, of course, to the corner of the park where I made love to my wife’s girl friends when I was younger?

Felicity: I hope you are joking, Hubert, we’ve never had a cheater in the family. Oh! if… (Enchanted.) Henry James’ ancestor was decapitated for cheating at cards under Henry VIII.

Hubert: That is already more flattering. I imagine that it is more elegant to be beheaded than dismissed from your club.

Hubert: Nothing. What are your father and Coralie doing? It has been more than two hours since they left.

Hubert: I don’t know, they could’ve fallen into a pond. Have you found the saboteurs, Lady Felicity?

Felicity: Not yet. I will alert the Yard tomorrow if they don’t appear on their own. I had my people post a little notice on the stable doors promising forgiveness but only in the case of self-denunciation.

(Enter Bertram, looking wilder than ever. He goes directly to the bar and helps himself to a large glass of alcohol.)

Felicity: Bertram… have you gone mad? You know quite well that you can’t sustain alcohol…

Bertram: I can’t sustain anything at all any longer. Neither life, nor death, nor the Chesterfields, nor anything. Here you go, you…

Felicity: Bossy… (She hurries to the dog and takes it in her arms.) My poor little darling, Bossy… who just got a big, enormous kick from the nasty Bertram… Have you gone mad, I am asking you, Bertram? I demand pardon.

Felicity: From me, his owner and your mother. Good God, you opened his stomach. The straw is already coming out …

Bertram: Oh, I don’t care if he fell to bits. Let him burst open the second time! Why don’t we all fall to bits! (He exits.)

Priscilla, throwing her arms around Felicity: Now, now, Mummy, don’t cry. It’s nothing. We will have Bossy refilled first thing tomorrow. It’s nothing, come.

Felicity, sobbing: Bertram… your son… struck the poor little Bossy – Bossy, who didn’t do anything to him…

Felicity: …and he said he wishes that we all fall to bits, Henry James, when I summoned him to excuse himself.

Henry James: That we all fall to bits... But what bad manners! Bad language and bad feelings. You are right, my dear companion, I am going to rage like a hurricane.

Henry James: Very much, thank you. But, my friend Hubert, since you were there, why didn’t you intervene?

Hubert: You would want me to throw myself between your son’s foot and that thing... er, Bossy?

Henry James: You could have gotten up and said, "No Bertram, no, that’s not the tone to use with the mother of my future wife." That would have had the desired effect.

Henry James: Yes? (Hubert is silent) Good. Then I am going to find Bertram and preach to him. Only God knows where he is. You must remove your animal, Felicity, it’s going to scatter straw all over the living room.

Felicity: No, I am going with you, Henry James, I want my son to demand my forgiveness. Look for him too, Priscilla.

Coralie: That you have made me do things that I wouldn’t have found funny and laugh while doing them. That sometimes, under my very eyes, you changed the meaning of my actions. And it’s like this that one becomes corrupt, ever so softly, laughing, without drama… by avoiding drama.

Hubert: And what can I do? What can I do if I am essentially happy, if we enjoyed ourselves endlessly, if life never seemed serious to me? Do you remember how you laughed with me in the darkness when I would tell you about all of this? We weren’t jealous, or bound, or serious. Is that so bad? Am I insane for needing freedom and playing a game for survival? Is it my fault that freedom in our era is called money?

Coralie: I laugh at money, I laugh at freedom, but I like loving. I loved loving you. My destiny, my liberty was your voice, your hair, liberty was to wait for you, to find you again, to laugh with you, as you say, and to whimper sometimes, without you and without your knowing it, but it’s finished, finished...

Hubert: What is between us is endless. You can believe for a second that I am able to live without you? But I would be alone then, completely alone. You and I, we weren’t not only lovers, you know, it’s all the beaches, all the seasons, all the streets of Paris… I love you, Coralie.

Hubert: Oh no! I am not going, not like that, on a whim on yours, throwing away our future! All that, because of an old poetic gentleman who, mounted on his sterling silver, speaks to you of love and spring water! That is too easy...

Coralie: That old gentleman, as you say, is more youthful than you, more vulnerable than you, and more intelligent than you.

Coralie: Yes, I am going to tell you that he pleases me, that he seduces me, that he has something that I adore in a man, a mix of tenderness, of modesty, that you’ll never have. It is neither a young brute nor an old suitor. It’s a real man.

Hubert: I forbid you, do you hear me, I forbid you to betray me in this manner, I forbid you to see anyone other than me, I forbid you to tell him everything you tell me, me, in my ear, I forbid you to laugh with him. I forbid you to forget for an instant, for a single second, that I love you and that you love me...

Hubert: I don’t care. You are mine, Coralie, whether you like it or not. I have the right to hit you, to cheat on you, to hurt you because at the same time I am hurting myself. Between a man and a woman who love each other, there is not a boundary, not a low blow, not a law. Our truth is us. You and me. Around us, it’s all a foolish decoration, and we should exploit it for living.

Coralie: People are not decorations, Hubert. In any case, one must be crazy with pride to say this... or crazywith egocentrism. And I am no longer yours, do you hear, I am no longer yours. I am leaving, I will never see you again. Understand that once and for all, it’s over.

Hubert: Over? Our dark nights, our silly giggles, waking up together? Your hand on my shoulder when we dance, your way of watching me when I drive? Over? Your way of insulting me with that low voice? Over? The way we met at night, the way we looked at each other, over? Are you crazy? Life is over, in sum?

Bertram: You, my friend, if you would like a punch in your face, it shall be quickly provided. Coralie, I told you that I was devoted to the development of my intellectual abilities.

Bertram: It was a mistake. We cannot devote our lives to investing in something that crumbles at the first blow. Which was you …

Bertram: The blow, yes: since you arrived here, my brain has been consumed entirely by you. No other idea could turn my head. Thus, I am giving up this fragile organ and turning my attention to what remains: my body. For me, that is sports, hunting, and boxing. I offered you marriage to an intellectual, I ask you for three months to make me athletic.

Bertram: It is true, I’ve had a lot to drink, to give me the courage to express myself. To be clear, I come straight from the office where I drank the all of the sherry that belongs to the butlers. My mother would have screamed if I approached any bar. Oh, by the way, she is not here. (He walks towards the bar.)

Bertram, turning towards them: On this subject, I must tell you that I am not ignorant of the connection between you.

Bertram: It makes no difference to me. Besides, Freud explained it quite well, and I have nothing against incest. I shall simply ask you, Coralie, that when we are married, you break off this relationship. (Pause.)

Coralie, in a very weak voice: I have a slight migraine, you don’t have anything like aspirin in this house, do you?… And you, Hubert, get me a double whisky, my nerves are frazzled – with a capital F.

Bertram: I shall go find it for you. Straight away. (He runs off and bumps into Priscilla.) Oh, it’s you, Prissy, pay a little attention…

Priscilla: My goodness, what a day!… The Rolls are sabotaged, Bertram dead drunk, Bossy disemboweled, and you, dear Coralie, you can’t leave.

Henry James: It’s impossible to find this boy. He’s been seen on the main staircase, in the office, in the linen room… He seems to be lost in a relay race around the house.

Hubert: He has decided to give himself to sports. He thinks it’ll give him a better chance with Coralie.

Hubert: Any old person of average physique has a chance with Coralie, you know, at least for two hours. (Silence.)

Henry James: I would advise you to show some respect for women, Hubert, under my roof, in any case.

Henry James: Don’t play Chimène, my daughter, it doesn’t suit you well. (Enter Felicity. She is in tears.) Heavens, there’s Agrippine, to make everything even better.

Felicity: Henry James... I haven’t found him. Soames told me that he drank all the sherry in the office. What will become of him?

Hubert: He will have liver failure, without a doubt, but that’s not a tragedy...

Bertram: You have them. I’m sorry, Mother. But I don’t want to find that cursed dog under my boot ever again. I must admit, it has always horrified me.

Felicity: What? Bossy has always horrified you? That dog which practically shared your childhood! This animal who was loyalty itself, fidelity itself, it horrifies you? This dog who died without a cry, looking straight ahead of him?

Felicity: Henry James, you too? It’s decided, I live with monsters. (She leaves with her head held high.)

Henry James: Nothing is happening. As for you, dry your tears, don’t get upset, and stop talking nonsense if you can. (He exits from the other door.)

Bertram: Precisely. That has to change. As for my drunkenness, it will help me. It will lift my complexes. Feel my arm, you can clearly see that there is not the least bit of muscle.

Bertram: Nothing is appropriate anymore. Feel my arm and get your racket, Prissy, or I will smack you.

Bertram: Don’t talk like our mother, that’s just too much for me! Feel it! (He grabs her arm, she feels it uncertainly, then starts to laugh.)

Priscilla: One must say, my poor Bertie... Dear, dear!... I feel sorry for the woman that you will embrace with these miserable things...

Bertram, angry: It will be Coralie, and she will not complain. If you care to know, as for me, I feel sorry for Hubert who is going to marry this pile of brainless muscle that you are! Go get your racket.

Priscilla, crazy with rage: I will not go. Smack me, if you dare, Bertie, but I-WILL-NOT-GET- MY-RACKET. (He pulls her hair.) Oh, that’s it, that’s it! I’m going to go tell Mummy. (She runs towards the door.)

Bertram, scornful: You’re such a sneak. (He goes towards the bar, and takes a big swig from the bottle.) I shall train tomorrow.

Coralie: But no, not at all. You have the appearance of a practiced young man who is going to make a rich marriage.

Coralie: No, my darling. We are not starting over. Be rich, Hubert, and be happy, if you can. And you can: you have always been a happy man.

Henry James: You are superb, my future son. You too, Coralie. As for me, I am suffering like a martyr. If it wasn’t for my beloved children, I would have avoided this ceremony altogether. It’s going to be atrocious. Everyone and their mother present, this deliciously small country church, the greenery, this absolutely serene weather... what a nightmare! Here, Hubert, drink something.

Henry James: What a pity to marry when one is so unhappy. He is disturbingly pale. The day of my marriage, I was as drunk as a sow and wildly gay. You are silent, Coralie? Are you sad, too?

Henry James: What a misfortune, my angel, that I should be what I am. Imagine for an instant that I am another, a true man, with feeling. I could say to you...

Henry James: I could say to you: Coralie, come with me. We will leave for Paris. The only real moments of my last twenty years have been these past few days with you. I could say to you that I love you, that I don’t care for money, that I am not stupid, that I have some friends and that I would work in Paris. That if you leave right away, my life will be a hell of regrets and nostalgia. Yes, I would have said all this to you if I weren’t what I am.

Henry James: Then, between us, it will have been be a... a... (He stops himself.) How do you say it in French? Une passade. A brief affair.

Henry James: I detest that idea. Why does this idiot – I mean Hubert – not realize that he is losing you?

Coralie: He doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t want to believe it. He intends to marry Priscilla, live comfortably here, and as for me, take a number of trips to France where I’ll be waiting for him. He would lavish support on me, all would go well. That is Hubert’s plan. And because he won’t lose me, because I won’t chase him away by getting a new lover – God knows who – he will not understand. Hubert only believes actions, Hubert always wants proof and he would need proof of my indifference just as he needed proof of my love. That’s all.

Henry James: And I imagine that you don’t like sharing that young man with another, even if it is Priscilla?

Henry James: I am getting strength from it, my love. It doesn’t disturb you too much that I call you this? After all, I’ve never done so, and you are leaving. And Lord Chesterfield will die in his old manor without seeing you again... Do you want anything to drink, my love?... Imagine: we are in Paris, in a café, whichever you want, we are rather broke and very carefree, we just met each other after a day of work, we return to our modest dwelling. And I turn towards you and say: "What do you want to drink, my love?"

Henry James: It is I who should be thanking you. (They drink. Then Henry comes up to Coralie and kisses her gently.) Our good-byes have been said. Would you care to call Hubert, Coralie, I have two words for him. (He takes two tickets out of his pocket.) And leave me alone with him. (She exits, calls Hubert outside. Henry James addresses the dog). Decidedly, we look more and more alike, Bossy.

(Hubert arrives.)

Henry James: Yes, it appears that you like a good plot. Here. (He hands him the tickets.)

Henry James: You can see them quite well. Two one-ways from London to Paris. One in the name of Miss Vernet, the other in the name of Henry Chesterfield. Yes, I wanted to warn you, old chap. I thought it would be more elegant this way.

Henry James: Oh yes. I’m leaving all this, my good friend. I am going to be free, happy and poor. You see, I truly love Coralie.

Hubert: But me too, I too really love Coralie. And she loves me… What does all this mean?

Henry James: This means that you are going to marry my daughter, right away, and that as for me, I am going to leave with your mistress.

Hubert: That’s not true. That’s impossible. But what do you want me to do, me, without her? Coralie, Coralie… (He goes to the door and Coralie comes back instantly.) Coralie, Coralie… what is all this?

Coralie: Two plane tickets, evidently. (She looks at them, then at Henry James.)

Hubert: So, what do you have to say? Perhaps they’re fraudulent, these tickets? Do you love him? Are you going with him?

Hubert: Are you going with him – you would have gone without telling me! Oh Coralie, Coralie, this is not true. Swear on my life that you don’t love me at all and I won’t say anything. Coralie, you, in Paris without me, in an airplane without me, with him: this cannot be true. Swear, swear to me that you don’t love me anymore, right now. (He takes her in his arms.)

Hubert, embracing Coralie’s shoulder: You still love me a little? Not more than a little. Coralie, come, we will leave right away. I will love you so much, Coralie, that you will pardon me. Coralie, I was wild and crazy, I was stupid, I will never go after money like that again, I swear to you.

Henry James: Would you like these tickets, Coralie? Airline companies are as understanding as I. They will fast replace Chesterfield with Darsay.

Henry James: Don’t thank me. If I have a piece of advice for you, it is to get away immediately. One already saw men in top hats and tails at Orly, I suppose, a great number of them?

Henry James: Why would you have believed me? I was telling you the opposite of what I felt from the start.

Coralie: You see, I wasn’t sure of myself. Of everything. To make me believe that somebody loves me, that person needs to say it to me, to repeat it to me…

Henry James: I know, that person needs to speak as if he were really in love. With his very lips, he has to pronounce terrifying words, fierce words, words that are heavy and possessive. I love you (he catches himself), for example…

Henry James: That’s a cruel gift you are giving me. (She shakes her head.) Oh! I see. In years from now, I’ll be able to tell myself that it was my fault. Is that it? (She doesn’t answer.) And, instead of hurting me like it is now, this idea will please me and my little pride. Is that it? (She is still silent.) Moreover, perhaps you are right, and that is what makes me sick.

Henry James: Be quiet, you. (They look at each other.) But do go, please, go. (They exit. Henry James looks around and rings. Enter Soames. Henry James, in a flat voice) Soames, kindly take a bottle of salts and go warn Lady Chesterfield that the wedding is off.