THE
BALD SOPRANO
by
Eugene Ionesco
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The
Characters:
MR.
SMITH
MRS.
SMITH
MR.
MARTIN
MRS.
MARTIN
MARY,
the maid
THE
FIRE CHIEF
------------------------------------------------------------------------
SCENE: A middle-class English
interior, with English armchairs. An English evening. Mr. Smith, an Englishman,
seated in his English armchair and wearing English slippers, is smoking his
English pipe and reading an English newspaper, near an English fire. He is
wearing English spectacles and a small gray English mustache. Beside him, in
another English armchair, Mrs. Smith, an Englishwoman, is darning some English
socks. A long moment of English silence. The English clock strikes 17 English
strokes.
MRS.
SMITH:
There, it's nine o'clock. We've drunk the soup, and eaten the fish and chips,
and the English salad. The children have drunk English water. We've eaten well
this evening. That's because we live in the suburbs of London and because our
name is Smith.
MR.
SMITH [continues to read, clicks his tongue.]
MRS.
SMITH:
Potatoes are very good fried in fat; the salad oil was not rancid. The oil from
the grocer at the corner is better quality than the oil from the grocer across
the street. It is even better than the oil from the grocer at the bottom of the
street. However, I prefer not to tell them that their oil is bad.
MR.
SMITH [continues to read, clicks his tongue.]
MRS.
SMITH:
However, the oil from the grocer at the corner is still the best.
MR.
SMITH [continues to read, clicks his tongue.]
MRS.
SMITH: Mary
did the potatoes very well, this evening. The last time she did not do them
well. I do not like them when they are well done.
MR.
SMITH [continues to read, clicks his tongue.]
MRS.
SMITH: The
fish was fresh. It made my mouth water. I had two helpings. No, three helpings.
That made me go to the w.c. You also had three helpings. However, the third
time you took less than the first two times, while as for me, I took a great
deal more. I eat better than you this evening. Why is that? Usually, it is you
who eats more. It is not appetite you lack.
MR.
SMITH [clicks his tongue.]
MRS.
SMITH: But
still, the soup was perhaps a little too salt. It was saltier than you. Ha, ha,
ha. It also had too many leeks and not enough onions. I regret I didn't advise
Mary to add some aniseed stars. The next time I'll know better.
MR.
SMITH [continues to read, clicks his tongue.]
MRS.
SMITH: Our
little boy wanted to drink some beer he's going to love getting tiddly. He's
like you. At table did you notice how he stared at the bottle? But I poured
some water from the jug into his glass. He was thirsty and he drank it. Helen
is like me: she's a good manager, thrifty, plays the piano. She never asks to
drink English beer. She's like our little daughter who drinks only milk and
eats only porridge. It's obvious that she's only two. She's named Peggy. The
quince and bean pie was marvelous. It would have been nice, perhaps, to have
had a small glass of Australian Burgundy with the sweet, but I did not bring
the bottle to the table because I did not wish to set the children a bad
example of gluttony. They must learn to be sober and temperate.
MR.
SMITH [continues to read, clicks his tongue.]
MRS.
SMITH: Mrs.
Parker knows a Rumanian grocer by the name of Popesco Rosenfeld, who has just
come from Constantinople. He is a great specialist in yogurt. He has a diploma
from the school of yogurt-making in Adrianople. Tomorrow I shall buy a large pot
of native Rumanian yogurt from him. One doesn't often find such things here in
the suburbs of London.
MR.
SMITH [continues to read, clicks his tongue.]
MRS.
SMITH:
Yogurt is excellent for the stomach, the kidneys, the appendicitis, and
apotheosis. It was Doctor Mackenzie-King who told me that, he's the one who
takes care of the children of our neighbors, the Johns. He's a good doctor. One
can trust him. He never prescribes any medicine that he's not tried out on
himself first. Before operating on Parker, he had his own liver operated on
first, although he was not the least bit ill.
MR.
SMITH: But
how does it happen that the doctor pulled through while Parker died?
MRS.
SMITH:
Because the operation was successful in the doctor's case and it was not in
Parker's.
MR.
SMITH: Then
Mackenzie is not a good doctor. The operation should have succeeded with both
of them or else both should have died.
MRS.
SMITH: Why?
MR.
SMITH: A
conscientious doctor must die with his patient if they can't get well together.
The captain of a ship goes down with his ship into the briny deep, he does not
survive alone.
MRS.
SMITH: One
cannot compare a patient with a ship.
MR.
SMITH: Why
not? A ship has its diseases too moreover, your doctor is as hale as a ship;
that's why he should have perished at the same time as his patient, like the
captain and his ship.
MRS.
SMITH: Ah! I
hadn't thought of that... Perhaps it is true... And then, what conclusion do
you draw from this?
MR.
SMITH: All
doctors are quacks. And all patients too. Only the Royal Navy is honest in
England.
MRS.
SMITH: But
not sailors.
MR.
SMITH:
Naturally [A pause. Still reading his paper:] Here's a thing I don't
understand. In the newspaper they always give the age of deceased persons but
never the age of the newly born. That doesn't make sense.
MRS.
SMITH: I
never thought of that! [Another moment of silence. The clock strikes seven
times. Silence. The clock strikes three times. Silence. The clock doesn't
strike.]
MR.
SMITH [still reading his paper]: Tsk, it says here that Bobby Watson died.
MRS.
SMITH: My
God, the poor man! When did he die?
MR.
SMITH: Why
do you pretend to be astonished? You know very well that he's been dead these
past two years. Surely you remember that we attended his funeral a year and a
half ago.
MRS.
SMITH: Oh
yes, of course I do remember. I remembered it right away, but I don't
understand why you yourself were so surprised to see it in the paper.
MR.
SMITH: It
wasn't in the paper. It's been three years since his death was announced. I
remembered it through an association of ideas.
MRS.
SMITH: What
a pity! He was so well preserved.
MR.
SMITH: He
was the handsomest corpse in Great Britain. He didn't look his age. Poor Bobby,
he'd been dead for four years and he was still warm. A veritable living corpse.
And how cheerful he was!
MRS.
SMITH: Poor
Bobby.
MR.
SMITH: Which
poor Bobby do you mean?
MRS.
SMITH: It is
his wife that I mean. She is called Bobby too, Bobby Watson. Since they both
had the same name, you could never tell one from the other when you saw them
together. It was only after his death that you could really tell which was
which. And there are still people today who confuse her with the deceased and
offer their condolences to him. Do you know her?
MR.
SMITH: I
only met her once, by chance, at Bobby's burial.
MRS.
SMITH: I've
never seen her. Is she pretty?
MR.
SMITH: She
has regular features and yet one cannot say that she is pretty. She is too big
and stout. Her features are not regular but still one can say that she is very
pretty. She is a little too small and too thin. She's a voice teacher. [The
clock strikes five times. A long silence.]
MRS.
SMITH: And
when do they plan to be married, those two?
MR.
SMITH: Next
spring, at the latest.
MRS.
SMITH: We
shall have to go to their wedding, I suppose.
MR.
SMITH: We
shall have to give them a wedding present. I wonder what?
MRS.
SMITH: Why
don't we give them one of the seven silver salvers that were given us for our
wedding and which have never been of any use to us? [Silence.]
MRS.
SMITH: How
sad for her to be left a widow so young.
MR.
SMITH:
Fortunately, they had no children.
MRS.
SMITH: That
was all they needed! Children! Poor woman, how could she have managed!
MR.
SMITH: She's
still young. She might very well remarry. She looks so well in mourning.
MRS.
SMITH: But
who would take care of the children? You know very well that they have a boy
and a girl. What are their names?
MR.
SMITH: Bobby
and Bobby like their parents. Bobby Watson's uncle, old Bobby Watson, is a rich
man and very fond of the boy. He might very well pay for Bobby's education.
MRS.
SMITH: That
would be proper. And Bobby Watson's aunt, old Bobby Watson, might very well, in
her turn, pay for the education of Bobby Watson, Bobby Watson's daughter. That
way Bobby, Bobby Watson's mother, could remarry. Has she anyone in mind?
MR.
SMITH: Yes,
a cousin of Bobby Watson 's.
MRS.
SMITH: Who?
Bobby Watson?
MR.
SMITH: Which
Bobby Watson do you mean?
MRS.
SMITH: Why,
Bobby Watson, the son of old Bobby Watson, the late Bobby Watson's other uncle.
MR.
SMITH: No,
it's not that one, it's someone else. It's Bobby Watson, the son of old Bobby
Watson, the late Bobby Watson's aunt.
MRS.
SMITH: Are
you referring to Bobby Watson the commercial traveler?
MR.
SMITH: All
the Bobby Watsons are commercial travelers.
MRS.
SMITH: What
a difficult trade! However, they do well at it.
MR.
SMITH: Yes,
when there's no competition.
MRS.
SMITH: And
when is there no competition?
MR.
SMITH: On
Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Tuesdays.
MRS.
SMITH: Ah!
Three days a week? And what does Bobby Watson do on those days?
MR.
SMITH: He
rests, he sleeps.
MRS.
SMITH: But
why doesn't he work those three days if there's no competition?
MR.
SMITH: I
don't know everything. I can't answer all your idiotic questions!
MRS.
SMITH [offended]: Oh! Are you trying to humiliate me?
MR.
SMITH [all smiles]: You know very well that I'm not.
MRS.
SMITH: Men
are all alike! You sit there all day long, a cigarette in your mouth, or you
powder your nose and rouge your lips, fifty times a day, or else you drink like
a fish.
MR.
SMITH: But
what would you say if you saw men acting like women do, smoking all day long,
powdering, rouging their lips, drinking whiskey?
MRS.
SMITH: It's
nothing to me! But if you're only saying that to annoy me... I don't care for
that kind of joking, you know that very well!
[She
hurls the socks across the stage and shows her teeth. She gets up.*]
* In
Nicolas Bataille's production, Mrs. Smith did not show her teeth, nor did she
throw the socks very far.
MR.
SMITH [also getting up and going towards his wife, tenderly]: Oh, my little ducky daddles,
what a little spitfire you are! You know that I only said it as a joke! [He
takes her by the waist and kisses her.] What a ridiculous pair of old lovers we are!
Come, let's put out the lights and go bye-byes.
MARY
[entering]: I'm the maid. I have spent a very pleasant afternoon. I've been
to the cinema with a man and I've seen a film with some women. After the
cinema, we went to drink some brandy and milk and then read the newspaper.
MRS.
SMITH: I
hope that you've spent a pleasant afternoon, that you went to the cinema with a
man and that you drank some brandy and milk.
MR.
SMITH: And
the newspaper.
MARY: Mr. and Mrs. Martin, your
guests, are at the door. They were waiting for me. They didn't dare come in by
themselves. They were supposed to have dinner with you this evening.
MRS.
SMITH: Oh,
yes. We were expecting them. And we were hungry. Since they didn't put in an
appearance, we were going to start dinner without them. We've had nothing to
eat all day. You should not have gone out!
MARY: But it was you who gave me
permission.
MR.
SMITH: We
didn't do it on purpose.
MARY
[bursts into laughter, then she bursts into tears. Then she smiles]: I bought me a chamber pot.
MRS.
SMITH: My
dear Mary, please open the door and ask Mr. and Mrs. Martin to step in. We will
change quickly.
[Mr.
and Mrs. Smith exit right. Mary opens the door at the left by which Mr. and
Mrs. Martin enter.] MARY: Why have you come so late! You are not very polite. People
should be punctual. Do you understand? But sit down there, anyway, and wait now
that you're here. [She exits. Mr. and Mrs. Martin sit facing each other,
without speaking. They smile timidly at each other. The dialogue which follows
must be spoken in voices that are drawling, monotonous, a little singsong,
without nuances.*]
* In
Nicholas Bataille's production, this dialogue was spoken in a tone and played
in a style sincerely tragic.
MR.
MARTIN:
Excuse me, madam, but it seems to me, unless I'm mistaken, that I've met you
somewhere before.
MRS.
MARTIN: I,
too, sir. It seems to me that I 've met you somewhere before.
MR.
MARTIN: Was
it, by any chance, at Manchester that I caught a glimpse of you, madam?
MRS.
MARTIN: That
is very possible. I am originally from the city of Manchester. But I do not
have a good memory, sir. I cannot say whether it was there that I caught a
glimpse of you or not!
MR.
MARTIN: Good
God, that's curious! I, too, am originally from the city of Manchester, madam!
MRS.
MARTIN: That
is curious!
MR.
MARTIN:
Isn't that curious! Only, I, madam, I left the city of Manchester about five
weeks ago.
MRS.
MARTIN: That
is curious! What a bizarre coincidence! I, too, sir, I left the city of
Manchester about five weeks ago.
MR.
MARTIN:
Madam, I took the 8:30 morning train which arrives in London at 4:45.
MRS.
MARTIN: That
is curious! How very bizarre! And what a coincidence! I took the same train,
sir, I too.
MR.
MARTIN: Good
Lord, how curious! Perhaps then, madam, it was on the train that I saw you?
MRS.
MARTIN: It
is indeed possible that is, not unlikely. It is plausible and, after all, why
not!--But I don't recall it, sir!
MR.
MARTIN: I
traveled second class, madam. There is no second class in England, but I always
travel second class.
MRS.
MARTIN: That
is curious! How very bizarre! And what a coincidence! I, too, sir, I traveled
second class.
MR.
MARTIN: How
curious that is! Perhaps we did meet in second class, my dear lady!
MRS.
MARTIN: That
is certainly possible, and it is not at all unlikely. But I do not remember
very well, my dear sir!
MR.
MARTIN: MY
seat was in coach No. 8, compartment 6, my dear lady.
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious that is! MY seat was also in coach No. 8, compartment 6, my dear sir!
MR.
MARTIN: How
curious that is and what a bizarre coincidence! Perhaps we met in compartment
6, my dear lady?
MRS.
MARTIN: It
is indeed possible, after all! But I do not recall it, my dear sir!
MR.
MARTIN: To
tell the truth, my dear lady, I do not remember it either, but it is possible
that we caught a glimpse of each other there, and as 1 think of it, it seems to
me even very likely.
MRS.
MARTIN: Oh!
truly, of course, truly, sir!
MR.
MARTIN: How
curious it is! I had seat No. 3, next to the window, my dear lady.
MRS.
MARTIN: Oh,
good Lord, how curious and bizarre! I had seat No. 6, next to the window,
across from you, my dear sir.
MR.
MARTIN: Good
God, how curious that is and what a coincidence! We were then seated facing
each other, my dear lady! It is there that we must have seen each other!
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious it is! It is possible, but I do not recall it, sir!
MR.
MARTIN: To
tell the truth, my dear lady, I do not remember it either. However, it is very
possible that we saw each other on that occasion.
MRS.
MARTIN: It
is true, but I am not at all sure of it, sir.
MR.
MARTIN: Dear
madam, were you not the lady who asked me to place her suitcase in the luggage
rack and who thanked me and gave me permission to smoke?
MRS.
MARTIN: But
of course, that must have been I, sir. How curious it is, how curious it is,
and what a coincidence!
MR.
MARTIN: How
curious it is, how bizarre, what a coincidence! And well, well, it was perhaps
at that moment that we came to know each other, madam?
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious it is and what a coincidence! It is indeed possible, my dear sir!
However, I do not believe that I recall it.
MR.
MARTIN: Nor
do I, madam. [A moment of silence. The clock strikes twice, then once.] Since coming to London, I
have resided in Bromfield Street, my dear lady.
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious that is, how bizarre! I, too, since coming to London, I have resided in
Bromfield Street, my dear sir.
MR.
MARTIN: How
curious that is, well then, well then, perhaps we have seen each other in
Bromfield Street, my dear lady.
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious that is, how bizarre! It is indeed possible, after all! But I do not recall
it, my dear sir.
MR.
MARTIN: I
reside at No. 19, my dear lady.
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious that is. I also reside at No. 19, my dear sir.
MR.
MARTIN: Well
then, well then, well then, well then, perhaps we have seen each other in that
house, dear lady?
MRS.
MARTIN: It
is indeed possible but I do not recall it, dear sir.
MR.
MARTIN: My
flat is on the fifth floor, No. 8, my dear lady.
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious it is, good Lord, how bizarre! And what a coincidence! I too reside on
the fifth floor, in flat No. 8, dear sir!
MR.
MARTIN [musing]: How curious it is, how curious it is, how curious it is, and what
a coincidence! You know, in my bedroom there is a bed, and it is covered with a
green eiderdown. This room, with the bed and the green eiderdown, is at the end
of the corridor between the w.c. and the bookcase, dear lady!
MRS.
MARTIN: What
a coincidence, good Lord, what a coincidence! My bedroom, too, has a bed with a
green eiderdown and is at the end of the corridor, between the w.c., dear sir,
and the bookcase!
MR.
MARTIN: How
bizarre, curious, strange! Then, madam, we live in the same room and we sleep
in the same bed, dear lady. It is perhaps there that we have met!
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious it is and what a coincidence! It is indeed possible that we have met
there, and perhaps even last night. But I do not recall it, dear sir!
MR.
MARTIN: I
have a little girl, my little daughter, she lives with me, dear lady. She is
two years old, she's blonde, she has a white eye and a red eye, she is very
pretty, her name is Alice, dear lady.
MRS.
MARTIN: What
a bizarre coincidence! I, too, have a little girl. She is two years old, has a
white eye and a red eye, she is very pretty, and her name is Alice, too, dear
sir!
MR.
MARTIN [in the same drawling monotonous voice]: How curious it is and what a
coincidence! And bizarre! Perhaps they are the same, dear lady!
MRS.
MARTIN: How
curious it is! It is indeed possible, dear sir. [A rather long moment of
silence. The cock strikes 29 times.]
MR.
MARTIN [after having reflected at length, gets up slowly and, unhurriedly,
moves toward Mrs. Martin, who, surprised by his solemn air, has also gotten up
very quietly. Mr. Martin, in the same flat, monotonous voice, slightly
singsong]: Then, dear lady, I believe
that there can be no doubt about it, we have seen each other before and you are
my own wife... Elizabeth, I have found you again!
[Mr..
Martin approaches Mr. Martin without haste. They embrace without expression.
The clock strikes once, very loud. This striking of the clock must be so loud
that it makes the audience jump. The Martins do not hear it.]
MRS.
MARTIN:
Donald, it's you, darling!
[They
sit together in the same armchair, their arms around each other, and fall
asleep. The clock strikes several more times. Mary, on tiptoe, a finger to her
lips, enters quietly and addresses the audience.]
MARY: Elizabeth and Donald are now
too happy to be able to hear me. I can therefore let you in on a secret.
Elizabeth is not Elizabeth, Donald is not Donald. And here is the proof: the
child that Donald spoke of is not Elizabeth's daughter, they are not the same
person. Donald's daughter has one white eye and one red eye like Elizabeth's
daughter. Whereas Donald's child has a white right eye and a red left eye,
Elizabeth's child has a red right eye and a white left eye! Thus all of
Donald's system of deduction collapses when it comes up against this last
obstacle which destroys his whole theory. In spite of the extraordinary
coincidences which seem to be definitive proofs, Donald and Elizabeth, not
being the parents of the same child, are not Donald and Elizabeth. It is in
vain that he thinks he is Donald, it is in vain that she thinks she is
Elizabeth. He believes in vain that she is Elizabeth. She believes in vain that
he is Donald--they are sadly deceived. But who is the true Donald? Who is the
true Elizabeth? Who has any interest in prolonging this confusion? I don't
know. Let's not try to know. Let's leave things as they are. [She takes
several steps toward the door, then returns and says to the audience:] My real name is Sherlock
Holmes. [She exits.]
[The
clock strikes as much as it likes. After several seconds, Mr. and Mrs. Martin
separate and take the chairs they had at the beginning.]
MR.
MARTIN: Darling,
let's forget all that has not passed between us, and, now that we have found
each other again, let's try not to lose each other any more, and live as
before.
MRS.
MARTIN: Yes,
darling.
[Mr.
and Mrs. Smith enter from the right, wearing the same clothes.]
MRS.
SMITH: Good
evening, dear friends! Please forgive us for having made you wait so long. We
thought that we should extend you the courtesy to which you are entitled and as
soon as we learned that you had been kind enough to give us the pleasure of
coming to see us without prior notice we hurried to dress for the occasion.
MR.
SMITH [furious]: We've had nothing to eat all day. And we've been waiting four
whole hours for you. Why have you come so late?
[Mr.
and Mrs. Smith sit facing their guests. The striking of the clock underlines
the speeches, more or less strongly, according to the case. The Martins,
particularly Mrs. Martin, seem embarrassed and timid. For this reason the
conversation begins with difficulty and the words are uttered, at the
beginning, awkwardly. A long embarrassed silence at first, then other silences
and hesitations follow.]
MR.
SMITH: Hm. [Silence.]
MRS.
SMITH: Hm,
hm. [Silence]
MRS.
MARTIN: Hm,
hm, hm. [Silence.]
MR.
MARTIN: Hm,
hm, hm, hm. [Silence.]
MRS.
MARTIN: Oh,
but definitely. [Silence.]
MR.
MARTIN: We
all have colds. [Silence.]
MR.
SMITH:
Nevertheless, it's not chilly. [Silence.]
MRS.
SMITH:
There's no draft. [Silence.]
MR.
MARTIN: Oh
no, fortunately. [Silence.]
MR.
SMITH: Oh
dear, oh dear, oh dear. [Silence.]
MR.
MARTIN: Don
t you feel well? [Silence.]
MRS.
SMITH: No,
he's wet his pants. [Silence.]
MRS.
MARTIN: Oh,
sir, at your age, you shouldn't. [Silence.]
MR.
SMITH: The
heart is ageless. [Silence.]
MR.
MARTIN: That
s true. [Silence.]
MRS.
SMITH: So
they say. [Silence.]
MRS.
MARTIN: They
also say the opposite. [Silence.]
MR.
SMITH: The
truth lies somewhere between the two. [Silence.]
MR.
MARTIN:
That's true. [Silence.]
MRS.
SMITH [to the Martins]: Since you travel so much, you must have many interesting things
to tell us.
MR.
MARTIN [to his wife]: My dear, tell us what you've seen today.
MRS.
MARTIN: It's
scarcely worth the trouble, for no one would believe me.
MR.
SMITH: We're
not going to question your sincerity!
MRS.
SMITH: You
will offend us if you think that.
MR.
MARTIN [to his wife]: You will offend them, my dear, if you think that...
MRS.
MARTIN [graciously]: Oh well, today I witnessed something extraordinary. Something
really incredible.
MR.
MARTIN: Tell
us quickly, my dear.
MR.
SMITH: Oh,
this is going to be amusing.
MRS.
SMITH: At
last.
MRS.
MARTIN:
Well, today, when I went shopping to buy some vegetables, which are getting to
be dearer and dearer...
MRS.
SMITH: Where
is it all going to end!
MR.
SMITH: You
shouldn't interrupt, my dear, it's very rude.
MRS.
MARTIN: In
the street, near a cafe; I saw a man, properly dressed, about fifty years old,
or not even that, who...
MR.
SMITH: Who,
what?
MRS.
SMITH: Who,
what?
MR.
SMITH [to his wife]: Don't interrupt, my dear, you're disgusting.
MRS.
SMITH: My
dear, it is you who interrupted first, you boor.
MR.
SMITH [to his wife]: Hush. [to Mrs. Martin:] What was this man doing?
MRS.
MARTIN:
Well, I'm sure you'll say that I'm making it up--he was down on one knee and he
was bent over.
MR.
MARTIN, MR. SMITH, MRS. SMITH: Oh!
MRS.
MARTIN: Yes,
bent over.
MR.
SMITH: Not
possible.
MRS.
MARTIN: Yes,
bent over. I went near him to see what he was doing...
MR.
SMITH: And?
MRS.
MARTIN: He was
tying his shoe lace which had come undone.
MR.
MARTIN, MR. SMITH, MRS. SMITH: Fantastic!
MR.
SMITH: If
someone else had told me this, I'd not believe it.
MR.
MARTIN: Why
not? One sees things even more extraordinary every day, when one walks around.
For instance, today in the Underground I myself saw a man, quietly sitting on a
seat, reading his newspaper.
MRS.
SMITH: What
a character!
MR.
SMITH:
Perhaps it was the same man!
[The
doorbell rings.]
MR.
SMITH:
Goodness, someone is ringing.
MRS.
SMITH: There
must be somebody there. I'll go and see.
[She
goes to see, she opens the door and closes it, and comes back.] Nobody. [She sits down
again.]
MR.
MARTIN: I'm
going to give you another example...
[Doorbell
rings again.]
MR.
SMITH: Goodness,
someone is ringing.
MRS.
SMITH: There
must be somebody there. I'll go and see. [She goes to see, opens the door,
and comes back.] No one. [She sits down again.]
MR.
MARTIN [who has forgotten where he was]: Uh...
MRS.
MARTIN: You
were saying that you were going to give us another example.
MR.
MARTIN: Oh,
yes...
[Doorbell
rings again.]
MR.
SMITH:
Goodness, someone is ringing.
MRS.
SMITH: I'm
not going to open the door again.
MR.
SMITH: Yes,
but there must be someone there!
MRS.
SMITH: The
first time there was no one. The second time, no one. Why do you think that
there is someone there now?
MR.
SMITH:
Because someone has rung!
MRS.
MARTIN:
Thats no reason.
MR.
MARTIN:
What? When one hears the doorbell ring, that means someone is at the door
ringing to have the door opened.
MRS.
MARTIN: Not
always. You've just seen otherwise!
MR.
MARTIN: In
most cases, yes.
MR.
SMITH: As
for me, when I go to visit someone, I ring in order to be admitted. I think
that everyone does the same thing and that each time there is a ring there must
be someone there.
MRS.
SMITH: That
is true in theory. But in reality things happen differently. You have just seen
otherwise.
MRS.
MARTIN: Your
wife is right.
MR.
MARTIN: Oh!
You women! You always stand up for each other.
MRS.
SMITH: Well,
I'll go and see. You can't say that I am obstinate, but you will see that
there's no one there! [She goes to look, opens the door and closes it.] You see, there's no one
there.
[She
returns to her seat.]
MRS.
SMITH: Oh,
these men who always think they're right and who're always wrong!
[The
doorbell rings again.]
MR.
SMITH:
Goodness, someone is ringing. There must be someone there.
MRS.
SMITH [in a fit of anger]: Don't send me to open the door again. You've seen that it was
useless. Experience teaches us that when one hears the doorbell ring it is
because there is never anyone there.
MRS.
MARTIN:
Never.
MR.
MARTIN:
That's not entirely accurate.
MR.
SMITH: In
fact it's false. When one hears the doorbell ring it is because there is
someone there.
MRS.
SMITH: He
won't admit he s wrong.
MRS.
MARTIN: My
husband is very obstinate, too.
MR.
SMITH:
There's someone there.
MR.
MARTIN: That
s not impossible.
MRS.
SMITH [to her husband]: No.
MR.
SMITH: Yes.
MRS.
SMITH: I
tell you no. In any case you are not going to disturb me again for nothing. If
you wish to know, go and look yourself!
MR.
SMITH: I'll
go.
[Mrs.
Smith shrugs her shoulders. Mrs. Martin tosses her head.]
MR.
SMITH [opening the door]: Oh! how do you do. [He glances at Mrs. Smith and the Martins,
who are all surprised.] It's the Fire Chief!
FIRE
CHIEF [he is of course in uniform and is wearing an enormous shining helmet]: Good evening, ladies and
gentlemen. [The Smiths and the Martins are still slightly astonished. Mrs.
Smith turns her head away, in a temper, and does not reply to his greeting.] Good evening, Mrs. Smith.
You appear to be angry.
MRS.
SMITH: Oh!
MR.
SMITH: You
see it's because my wife is a little chagrined at having been proved wrong.
MR.
MARTIN:
There's been an argument between Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Mr. Fire Chief.
MRS.
SMITH [to Mr. Martin]: This is no business of yours! [To Mr. Smith:] I beg you not to involve
outsiders in our family arguments.
MR.
SMITH: Oh,
my dear, this is not so serious. The Fire Chief is an old friend of the family.
His mother courted me, and I knew his father. He asked me to give him my
daughter in marriage if ever I had one. And he died waiting.
MR.
MARTIN:
That's neither his fault, nor yours.
FIRE
CHIEF: Well,
what is it all about?
MRS.
SMITH: My
husband was claiming...
MR.
SMITH: No,
it was you who was claiming.
MR.
MARTIN: Yes,
it was she.
MRS.
MARTIN: No,
it was he.
FIRE
CHIEF: Don't
get excited. You tell me, Mrs. Smith.
MRS.
SMITH: Well,
this is how it was. It is difficult for me to speak openly to you, but a
fireman is also a confessor.
FIRE
CHIEF: Well
then?
MRS.
SMITH: We
were arguing because my husband said that each time the doorbell rings there is
always someone there.
MR.
MARTIN: It
is plausible.
MRS.
SMITH: And I
was saying that each time the doorbell rings there is never anyone there.
MRS.
MARTIN: It
might seem strange.
MRS.
SMITH: But
it has been proved, not by theoretical demonstrations, but by facts.
MR.
SMITH:
That's false, since the Fire Chief is here. He rang the bell, I opened the
door, and there he was.
MRS.
MARTIN:
When?
MR.
MARTIN: But
just now.
MRS.
SMITH: Yes,
but it was only when you heard the doorbell ring the fourth time that there was
someone there. And the fourth time does not count.
MRS.
MARTIN:
Never. It is only the first three times that count.
MR.
SMITH: Mr.
Fire Chief, permit me in my turn to ask you several questions.
FIRE
CHIEF: Go
right ahead.
MR.
SMITH: When
I opened the door and saw you, it was really you who had rung the bell?
FIRE
CHIEF: Yes,
it was I.
MR.
MARTIN: You
were at the door? And you rang in order to be admitted?
FIRE
CHIEF: I do
not deny it.
MR.
SMITH [to his wife, triumphantly]: You see? I was right. When you hear the doorbell ring, that means
someone rang it. You certainly cannot say that the Fire Chief is not someone.
MRS.
SMITH:
Certainly not. I repeat to you that I was speaking of only the first three
times, since the fourth time does not count.
MRS.
MARTIN: And
when the doorbell rang the first time, was it you?
FIRE
CHIEF: No,
it was not I.
MRS.
MARTIN: You
see? The doorbell rang and there was no one there.
MR.
MARTIN:
Perhaps it was someone else?