You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet Page #5

people that one cannot imagine... dead.

And then the others.

Those one can easily imagine

stretched out, pale,

a red hole in their heads.

Has that never tempted you?

Never. And this evening

less than ever.

That's a pity.

One mustn't believe too much

in happiness.

Monsieur, there's a gentleman asking

for Mademoiselle Eurydice.

I said she was out

but he doesn't believe me.

He insists on seeing you now.

Shall I send him up?

I'm already here.

Where's Eurydice?

She's gone to buy our dinner.

She may have gone to buy your dinner

but she was supposed to join us

at the station to take the train.

Who are you?

Alfredo Dulac.

Eurydice's agent.

Where is she?

- What do you want her for?

- And you?

Eurydice is my mistress.

Since when?

Yesterday.

She happens to be mine too.

For a year now.

You're lying!

She forgot to tell you?

She told me everything.

She was the mistress of that boy

who jumped under the train.

How stupid can you be!

She slept in your bed, not mine.

So what?

You're a child, old chap.

You have to put up with her whims.

She also slept with the fool

who killed himself.

You, at least, I understand.

You have nice eyes.

You're young...

- I love Eurydice, she loves me.

- She said so?

Yes.

An extraordinary girl.

Good job I know her.

Suppose I know her better?

- Since yesterday?

- Yes, since yesterday.

Look, I'm not acting smart.

But there are two things I know well:

First of all, my job...

And Eurydice?

No, I can't claim that.

I'll be more modest: Women.

Eurydice may be an odd girl,

like I said,

but we've both seen the way she's built

so you'll agree she's a woman.

You're lying.

Eurydice has never been yours!

You've been her lover?

So have I.

- Shall I describe her to you?

- No.

What's yours like?

Hard to wake first thing?

Always with her thrillers

and cigarettes?

Always with a cigarette jammed

in her mouth like some hoodlum?

Did she find her stockings

this morning?

Admit it.

I bet her blouse was on the wardrobe,

her shoes in the bathtub.

Her hat under the armchair

and her bag nowhere to be found.

I've bought her seven.

- You're lying.

- It's true, old chap.

Eurydice is a rare being,

there's no denying that.

But she's like any petty little woman.

That's not true!

Nothing is true for you.

You're odd!

- How long ago did she leave?

- Twenty minutes.

- That's true?

- Yes.

- She insisted on going alone?

- Yes.

It amused her

to go and buy our dinner alone.

- Is that true too?

- Yes.

Well, I sent her a letter

five minutes earlier,

summoning her to the station.

She couldn't have had a letter.

I never once left her side.

Are you sure of that?

What did the note say?

That I was waiting for her.

I knew she would obey.

But she didn't come.

True, she didn't.

But my Eurydice is always late.

I'm not worried.

Did you give yours

a lot of shopping to do?

Flowers and fruit.

You say she left twenty minutes ago?

Could your Eurydice

possibly be late too?

I'm going to the station!

You think she might have wanted

to join us?

I'm staying here.

If she's at the station, I was right.

You'll have nothing more to say to her.

I'll tell her

she isn't how others see her

but how I know she is!

Too complicated for station smalltalk.

Hurry, I'll be a good sport.

Bring her back here.

She'll soon tell us who she is.

Monsieur...

What is it?

There's a policeman here

with his van...

What does he want?

He's asking if someone was related

to the young woman.

She's had an accident, Monsieur.

On the Toulon bus...

Is she hurt?

Is she downstairs?

Why was she on the Toulon bus?

No one will ever know that.

She isn't hurt. She's dead.

On leaving Marseille,

the bus hit a tanker.

The other passengers

only suffered minor cuts.

I saw her laid out

in the back of the van.

She only has a light wound

on her temple.

She seems to be asleep.

Tell them to prepare my bill.

I'm leaving this evening.

Tell them to prepare my bill.

I'm leaving this evening.

ACT THREE:

Where are we?

Don't you recognize it?

I can't walk anymore...

I can't walk anymore!

You're going to rest.

Where are we?

What has happened since yesterday?

It's still yesterday.

You promised me!

Don't get up.

Rest.

Tell me where we are.

You said you wouldn't be afraid.

I'm not afraid.

But are we there at last?

Yes, we're there.

Where?

You don't recognize it?

Be patient.

Do you recognize it now?

- The station buffet?

- Yes.

You lied to me!

Sit down. No.

Don't shout.

Why did you come to my room?

I was lying on my unmade bed,

suffering.

I was almost happy,

wallowing in my grief.

I couldn't bear

to listen to you suffer.

I set my bags down

and came in to calm you.

And since nothing could calm you,

I made that promise

to keep you quiet.

I'm quiet now.

You still don't believe me?

I truly wish I could...

but, no, I don't.

You weep, moan and suffer,

but refuse to believe.

I hate suffering!

You'll soon stop crying, little man.

You'll stop wondering

whether to believe or not.

Is she coming here?

She's already here.

In this station?

She's dead!

I saw them carry her away.

You want to understand, little man?

You took my hand without trembling,

you followed me

without asking who I was,

without slowing your pace,

yet you want to understand anyway?

No.

I want to see her again.

That's all.

Aren't you curious?

I bring you to the gates of death

and all you care about

is your girlfriend, little man.

You're right.

I'll tell you a secret.

Death...

has one quality

that no one knows about.

It is good. Terribly good.

It is afraid of tears, of pain.

Whenever it can,

whenever life allows it to,

it moves quickly.

But life clings on obstinately

like a fool,

even if the game is up,

even if a man can't move

or is disfigured,

even if he has to go on suffering.

Death alone is a friend.

With the tip of its finger,

it delivers, it soothes.

I'd rather have Eurydice disfigured,

suffering, old!

Your so-called friend...

stole Eurydice from me.

With the tip of its finger,

it withered Eurydice.

Young, happy Eurydice,

smiling Eurydice...

It'll return her to you.

When?

Right away.

But listen carefully...

Your happiness was over anyway.

Those twenty-four hours,

that's all your dear life

had in store

for little Orpheus and Eurydice.

You wouldn't be weeping now

for the dead Eurydice,

but for a Eurydice who had fled.

That's not true.

She didn't go to meet that man!

She didn't return to your room either.

She took the bus to Toulon alone.

Where was she running away to?

I want to see her again.

Adieu.

She's being returned to you.

She's there, on the platform,

where you first saw her yesterday,

waiting for you.

You remember the condition?

Yes.

Repeat it.

If you forget it, I can't help you.

- I must not look her in the face.

- That won't be easy.

If I look her in the face before dawn,

I lose her again.

No questions now, you stubborn man?

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