LITMIR.BIZ

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      Yes, that’s it, that’s really it. Thanks, Procula, thanks

      PROCULA

      You know my name?

      BLANDINE

      Say rather, I haven’t forgotten.

      PROCULA

      You remember me?

      BLANDINE

      Didn’t you share the games of my childhood?

      PROCULA

      And I, who, each evening, seeing you pass, didn’t even dare.

      BLANDINE

      I couldn’t actually speak to you first. Well, here you are, become a man of business, a clever worker, and all the nobility of Rome comes to your place. Chariclea pretended that commercial success had turned your head and that you had become too proud to recognize your friends of yesteryear. Don’t you say anything to this naughty nurse who scolded us when others caressed us.

      CHARICLEA

      Your hand, my dear son.

      BLANDINE

      And don’t you see I’m holding out mine to you?

      PROCULA

      O radiant past! O all joys, all enchantments. The sturdy villa, the basins in which goldfish played, the granite sphinx, the great bulls of Clytumnus, Spring flowers, golden birds in their flight—

      BLANDINE

      My mother was living then!

      CHARICLEA

      And when’s the wedding, my son?

      PROCULA

      What wedding?

      CHARICLEA

      Yours.

      PROCULA

      Why, I’m not thinking of it.

      BLANDINE

      I promise an expensive gift to your fiancée.

      PROCULA (aside)

      Ah, the awakening. Fall back to earth, slave—the wings of your dream are broken.

      BLANDINE

      Why this cloud ob your face? Aren’t you happy?

      PROCULA

      Can a slave be happy, Madame? Is there a God for men of misery and servitude?

      BLANDINE

      Yes, Procula!—Listen, my father was a Questor in Jerusalem. I was barely seven. One night I was on the terrace with my mother and Chariclea. Iin the streets and on the square there was a large and very agitated multitude. I asked my mother what was going on. She pointed to a man with her finger—a condemned man being led to execution. He was covered with a purple cloak and a crown of thorns which was nailed into his flesh. He held a reed in his right hand and bore a heavy cross on his shoulders.

      Men, women and children pursued him with insults and mockery, overwhelming him with blows and scratching his face. When he passed before us, he raised his head and cast a glance at us so full of kindness, of sorrow and forgiveness that an invincible force made us fall to our knees, and we remained there for a very long while, faces in our hands. The last glance of the just had saved our souls.

      PROCULA

      Who was this man, really?

      BLANDINE

      He was the God of all those who suffered, were they the least of slaves. He will be, I hope, that of Procula.

      PROCULA

      Yes, since he is yours.

      CHARICLEA

      Those noises, this crowd.

      (aside, looking off)

      Ah, it’s horrible.

      (aloud)

      Come, my young mistress, come.

      BLANDINE (to Procula)

      We will see each other again.

      (She leaves with Chariclea. Night has come on completely.)

      PROCULA

      O Unknown God! All that I ask of you is to be able to die for her!

      (Groups of people come on stage. The old man pokes his head out of the shop.

      Kiomara comes to him rapidly.)

      KIOMARA (low to the old geezer)

      Everything is ready!

      (An executioner enters by torch light, dragging Plautus’s body in a fishnet.)

      EXECUTIONER

      Make way! Make way! Let pass the justice of Tiberius.

      CROWD

      No, no.

      ROMULUS

      Stop a moment. We want to speak to the deceased according to the custom. We want to give him our messages for the other world.

      EXECUTIONER

      Make way, in the name of Tiberius, make way!

      CROWD

      Down! Down!

      (They beat the Executioner who takes to his heels.)

      ROMULUS

      Now, citizens of Rome—be silent!

      CROWD

      Speak! Speak!

      ROMULUS

      Lord Plautus, I charge you to tell Augustus that the 43 million sesterces, donated by him to the Roman people in his will has not yet been disbursed by Tiberius.

      CROWD

      It’s true! Bravo! Bravo! Long live Augustus! Down with Tiberius.

      ROMULUS

      Someone else’s turn now.

      PORCIUS

      My turn. —Friend Plautus, tell your ancestor Opimius, whose wine we tasted yesterday evening, that the time of good meals is over, and that we cannot savor in peace dishes prepared by Sicilian chefs—

      (Laughter and hoots from the crowd.)

      ROMULUS

      Don’t you recognize the orator? It’s Porcius, the drunk; Porcius,the glutton.

      CROWD

      Down with Porcius!

      (They shove him.)

      Down! Down!

      PORCIUS (aside)

      One will never make anything of these ragamuffins.

      SENECA

      I demand to speak.

      CROWD

      Silence! Listen! Silence!

      SENECA (after having spit and coughed)

      I won’t tell you O Manes of Senator Plautus, the color of Venus’ hair, the day of the birth of Hercules, the number of Achilles’ hair—

      (Laughter and hoots)

      CROWD

      Enough! Enough!

      SENECA

      I won’t tell you—

      CROWD

      Down with the orator!

      ROMULUS

      It’s Seneca, the philosopher, Seneca, the lawyer, Seneca, the merchant of phrases—

      CROWD

      Down with him! Down with him!

      SENECA

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