I Walked with a Zombie Page #9

---

HOLLAND:

It's always stood there, Miss

Connell. I can remember it in my

grandfather's time and my father's.

I'm afraid it will have to remain.

BETSY:

But for Wes -- it must be a

temptation to him.

HOLLAND:

I've no sympathy with people who

can't resist temptation.

BETSY:

Still, I feel you should remove the

decanter. Wes is not an alcoholic

yet, Mr. Holland. But as a nurse I can

tell you that it won't be long before he is.

HOLLAND:

(coldly)

I'm afraid the decanter will have

to stay where it is. I engaged

you, Miss Connell, to take care of

my wife, not my brother.

They look at each other for a moment, then Betsy turns and

walks off without a word. Holland turns to rejoin Bayard at

the gate.

DISSOLVE:

EXT. TERRACE -- DINING TABLE -- NIGHT

It is a hot, windy night. The bushes in the garden move

violently with the gusts of wind. Even protected as they are

by the great glass hurricane lamps, the candle flames that

light the table are agitated and stir restlessly. Tonight

there are four people at dinner, Holland, Rand, Betsy, in a

simple print dress, and Jessica, in a lovely evening gown

that leaves her shoulders and arms bare. They have finished

the first portion of their meal and Clement is taking off the

soup plates. Somewhere off in the hills there is the

ululating sounds of a great sea conch being blown.

BETSY:

You don't seem very disturbed by

it. I've always thought Voodoo was

something to be scared of: the

drums sounded in the hills and

everybody was frightened.

HOLLAND:

I'm afraid it's not very

frightening. They have their songs

and dances and carry on and

finally, as I understand it, one of

the gods comes down and speaks

through one of the people.

RAND:

For some reason, they always seem

to pick a night like this. This

wind even sets me on edge.

He reaches out with his hand and then looks around the table.

It is obvious something is missing. Both Betsy and Holland

notice his half-gesture. Betsy glances at Holland. He

smiles and nods.

RAND (CONT'D)

Clement.

Clement, busy at the sideboard, looks around toward him.

RAND (cont'd)

You've forgotten the decanter.

HOLLAND:

I think from now on, Wes, we'll try

serving dinner without it.

RAND:

Oh, I see. The lord of the manor

has decided to abolish one of the

tribal customs.

Holland makes no answer. The conches blow wildly in the

hills and a flurry of wind sweeps the garden.

RAND (cont'd)

An economy move, I suppose. Or,

perhaps, Paul, you decided on a

finer moral standard for our happy

little household, now that Miss

Connell is with us.

Holland still keeps his silence, although the muscles in his

jaw twitch.

RAND (cont'd)

What are you trying to do, impress

her?

HOLLAND:

Let's drop it now, Wes. We can

talk about it later if you want.

Rand glowers at him and makes no immediate answer. A great

gust of wind blows across the garden. The candle flames

level out in one direction and then the other.

RAND:

But I want to talk now. Why have

you decided to take the whiskey off

the table? What's behind it? What

nice, sadistic little plot is

brewing this time, Paul?

HOLLAND:

(with a glance at Betsy)

Let's not discuss it, Wes.

The conches sound again in the hills, wildly and yet

monotonously.

RAND:

(with great sarcasm)

Let's not quarrel before the

ladies. Let's be reserved and

gentlemanly.

(jumping to his feet)

You were so gentlemanly when you

drove Jessica insane -- so polite

when you made her into that!

He subsides in his chair, shaken, entirely out of control.

He doesn't look at Holland, nor at Betsy but at Jessica.

They sit there for a moment in complete silence. Then

Holland, obviously holding in his temper, rises and says:

HOLLAND:

Miss Connell, I think it would be

best if I had Clement bring the

rest of your dinner to your room.

He turns and goes into the living room. Betsy also starts to

rise. Rand still stares at Jessica.

DISSOLVE:

INT. BETSY'S BEDROOM -- NIGHT

The room is in darkness. Betsy stands leaning against one of

the jalousies, looking out through the slit between two

panels. Over the scene comes the sad, masculine sorrow of

the Liebestod. It is being played well and forcefully on the

piano in the living room.

INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT

From her window Betsy can see Holland playing the piano.

INT. BETSY'S BEDROOM -- NIGHT

Betsy stands watching him. Then suddenly, as if compelled,

she leaves the window, opens the jalousied door and goes

quickly out into the garden.

INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT

Holland is still playing. The sound of the door opening is

heard. It startles him and he turns toward the sound. He

sees Betsy and rises to face her as she steps into the room.

BETSY:

I heard you playing.

HOLLAND:

(trying to hide behind

brittleness)

I often do.

BETSY:

(disregarding his remark)

I know what you went through

tonight. I kept thinking of what

you said:
that all good things died

here, violently.

HOLLAND:

Why did you come in here?

BETSY:

I don't know. I wanted to help

you. And now that I'm here, I don't

know how.

Holland comes close to her and looks down into her eyes.

HOLLAND:

(with unexpected

sincerity)

You have helped me. I want you to

know I'm sorry I brought you here.

When I thought of a nurse, I

thought of someone hard and

impersonal.

BETSY:

(looking past him into the

garden)

I love Fort Holland.

HOLLAND:

What you saw tonight -- two

brothers at each other's throat and

a woman driven mad by her own

husband? Do you love that?

BETSY:

You didn't drive her mad.

HOLLAND:

Didn't I? I don't know. That's

the simple truth of it. I don't

know.

Betsy shakes her head and moves closer to him. Her face,

upturned to his, is filled with pity.

HOLLAND (cont'd)

Before Jessica was taken ill, there

was a scene. An ugly scene. I

told her I wouldn't let her go,

that I'd hold her by force if

necessary.

Betsy puts her hand on his arm, in an instinctive gesture of

sympathy and comfort. Holland looks down at her hand and

then, searchingly, into her face.

HOLLAND (cont'd)

You wouldn't understand that kind

of love. You never knew Jessica as

she was. Beautiful, restless,

willful -- living in a world with

room for nothing but her own image

and her own desires.

Betsy gently draws her hand away. She watches his face, lost

in remembering.

HOLLAND (cont'd)

She promised so much -- warmth and

sweetness...she promised --

In the hills the conches blow wildly, echoing and answering

each other from every direction. For a brief moment, the

noise is so loud Holland could not speak if he wanted to and

then, when he can, and does, his voice has changed entirely.

It is cold. It cuts between him and Betsy like a sword.

HOLLAND (CONT'D)

I think it may be best for all of

us not to discuss this again.

Thank you -- I know you meant to be

kind.

DISSOLVE:

EXT. FOUNTAIN -- NIGHT

Betsy stands looking into the dark cistern. The wind still

blows and the conches are sounding from the hills. But the

noise of the water flowing over the shoulders of St.

Sebastian can be heard above these other sounds. The iron

arrows in his breast glisten.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes