SCENE SEVEN
SCENE—Sixteen years later. A small, tumble-down house on a bare, unenclosed plot of ground. Before the house is a tiny garden enclosed by a hip-high hedge.
At back a wooden fence crosses the stage; in the center of it is a door large enough to admit a wagon. Beyond the fence is a view of a suburban street which blends into a broad vista of tilled fields.
It is a bright Sunday in Spring.
In the garden a table for two is laid.
JULIE, her daughter LOUISE, WOLF and MARIE are discovered in the garden. WOLF is prosperously dressed, MARIE somewhat elaborately, with a huge hat.
JULIE
You could stay for lunch.
MARIE
Impossible, dear. Since he became the proprietor of the Café Sorrento, Wolf simply has to be there all the time.
JULIE
But you needn’t stay there all day, too.
MARIE
Oh, yes. I sit near the cashier’s cage, read the papers, keep an eye on the waiters and drink in the bustle and excitement of the great city.
JULIE
And what about the children?
MARIE
You know what modern families are like. Parents scarcely ever see their children these days. The four girls are with their governess, the three boys with their tutor.
LOUISE
Auntie, dear, do stay and eat with us.
MARIE
[Importantly.] Impossible today, dear child, impossible. Perhaps some other time. Come, Mr. Beifeld.
JULIE
Since when do you call your husband mister?
WOLF
I’d rather she did, dear lady. When we used to be very familiar we quarreled all the time. Now we are formal with each other and get along like society folk. I kiss your hand, dear lady.
JULIE
Good-bye, Wolf.
MARIE
Adieu, my dear. [They embrace.] Adieu, my dear child.
LOUISE
Good-bye, Aunt Marie. Good-bye, Uncle Wolf. [WOLF and MARIE exit.]
JULIE
You can get the soup now, Louise dear. [LOUISE goes into the house and reënters with the soup. They sit at the table.]
LOUISE
Mother, is it true we’re not going to work at the jute factory any more?
JULIE
Yes, dear.
LOUISE
Where then?
JULIE
Uncle Wolf has gotten us a place in a big establishment where they make all kinds of fittings for cafés. We’re to make big curtains, you know, the kind they hang in the windows, with lettering on them.
LOUISE
It’ll be nicer there than at the jute factory.
JULIE
Yes, dear. The work isn’t as dirty and pays better, too. A poor widow like your mother is lucky to get it. [They eat. LILIOM and the two HEAVENLY POLICEMEN appear in the big doorway at back. The POLICEMEN pass slowly by. LILIOM stands there alone a moment, then comes slowly down and pauses at the opening of the hedge. He is dressed as he was on the day of his death. He is very pale, but otherwise unaltered. JULIE, at the table, has her back to him. LOUISE sits facing the audience.
LILIOM
Good day.
LOUISE
Good day.
JULIE
Another beggar! What is it you want, my poor man?
LILIOM
Nothing.
JULIE
We have no money to give, but if you care for a plate of soup—— [LOUISE goes into the house.] Have you come far today?
LILIOM
Yes—very far.
JULIE
Are you tired?
LILIOM
Very tired.
JULIE
Over there at the gate is a stone. Sit down and rest. My daughter is bringing you the soup. [LOUISE comes out of the house.]
LILIOM
Is that your daughter?
JULIE
Yes.
LILIOM
[To LOUISE.] You are the daughter?
LOUISE
Yes, sir.
LILIOM
A fine, healthy girl. [Takes the soup plate from her with one hand, while with the other he touches her arm. LOUISE draws back quickly.]
LOUISE
[Crosses to JULIE.] Mother!
JULIE
What, my child?
LOUISE
The man tried to take me by the arm.
JULIE
Nonsense! You only imagined it, dear. The poor, hungry man has other things to think about than fooling with young girls. Sit down and eat your soup. [They eat.]
LILIOM
[Eats, too, but keeps looking at them.] You work at the factory, eh?
JULIE
Yes.
LILIOM
Your daughter, too?
LOUISE
Yes.
LILIOM
And your husband?
JULIE
[After a pause.] I have no husband. I’m a widow.
LILIOM
A widow?
JULIE
Yes.
LILIOM
Your husband—I suppose he’s been dead a long time. [JULIE does not answer.] I say—has your husband been dead a long time?
JULIE
A long time.
LILIOM
What did he die of? [JULIE is silent.]
LOUISE
No one knows. He went to America to work and he died there—in the hospital. Poor father, I never knew him.
LILIOM
He went to America?
LOUISE
Yes, before I was born.
LILIOM
To America?
JULIE
Why do you ask so many questions? Did you know him, perhaps?
LILIOM
[Puts the plate down.] Heaven knows! I’ve known so many people. Maybe I knew him, too.
JULIE
Well, if you knew him, leave him and us in peace with your questions. He went to America and died there. That’s all there is to tell.
LILIOM
All right. All right. Don’t be angry with me. I didn’t mean any harm. [There is a pause.]
LOUISE
My father was a very handsome man.
JULIE
Don’t talk so much.
LOUISE
Did I say anything——?
LILIOM
Surely the little orphan can say that about her father.
LOUISE
My father could juggle so beautifully with three ivory balls that people used to advise him to go on the stage.
JULIE
Who told you that?
LOUISE
Uncle Wolf.
LILIOM
Who is that?
LOUISE
Mr. Wolf Beifeld, who owns the Café Sorrento.
LILIOM
The one who used to be a porter?
JULIE
[Astonished.] Do you know him, too? It seems that you know all Budapest.
LILIOM
Wolf Beifeld is a long way from being all Budapest. But I do know a lot of people. Why shouldn’t I know Wolf Beifeld?
LOUISE
He was a friend of my father.
JULIE
He was not his friend. No one was.
LILIOM
You speak of your husband so sternly.
JULIE
What’s that to you? Doesn’t it suit you? I can speak of my husband any way I like. It’s nobody’s business but mine.
LILIOM
Certainly, certainly—it’s your own business. [Takes up his soup plate again. All three eat.]
LOUISE
[To JULIE.] Perhaps he knew father, too.
JULIE
Ask him, if you like.
LOUISE
[Crosses to LILIOM. He stands up.] Did you know my father? [LILIOM nods. LOUISE addresses her mother.] Yes, he knew him.
JULIE
[Rises.] You knew Andreas Zavocky?
LILIOM
Liliom? Yes.
LOUISE
Was he really a very handsome man?
LILIOM
I wouldn’t exactly say handsome.
LOUISE
[Confidently.] But he was an awfully good man, wasn’t he?
LILIOM
He wasn’t so good, either. As far as I know he was what they called a clown, a barker in a carousel.
LOUISE
[Pleased.] Did he tell funny jokes?
LILIOM
Lots of ’em. And he sang funny songs, too.
LOUISE
In the carousel?
LILIOM
Yes—but he was something of a bully, too. He’d fight anyone. He even hit your dear little mother.
JULIE
That’s a lie.
LILIOM
It’s true.
JULIE
Aren’t you ashamed to tell the child such awful things about her father? Get out of here, you shameless liar. Eats our soup and our bread and has the impudence to slander our dead!
LILIOM
I didn’t mean—I——
JULIE
What right have you to tell lies to the child? Take that plate, Louise, and let him be on his way. If he wasn’t such a hungry-looking beggar, I’d put him out myself. [LOUISE takes the plate out of his hand.]
LILIOM
So he didn’t hit you?
JULIE
No, never. He was always good to me.
LOUISE
[Whispers.] Did he tell funny stories, too?
LILIOM
Yes, and such funny ones.
JULIE
Don’t speak to him any more. In God’s name, go.
LOUISE
In God’s name. [JULIE resumes her seat at the table and eats.]
LILIOM
If you please, Miss—I have a pack of cards in my pocket. And if you like, I’ll show you some tricks that’ll make you split your sides laughing. [LOUISE holds LILIOM’S plate in her left hand. With her right she reaches out and holds the garden gate shut.] Let me in, just a little way, Miss, and I’ll do the tricks for you.
LOUISE
Go, in God’s name, and let us be. Why are you making those ugly faces?
LILIOM
Don’t chase me away, Miss; let me come in for just a minute—just for a minute—just long enough to let me show you something pretty, something wonderful. [Opens the gate.] Miss, I’ve something to give you. [Takes from his pocket a big red handkerchief in which is wrapped a glittering star from Heaven. He looks furtively about him to make sure that the POLICE are not watching.]
LOUISE
What’s that?
LILIOM
Pst! A star! [With a gesture he indicates that he has stolen it out of the sky.]
JULIE
[Sternly.] Don’t take anything from him. He’s probably stolen it somewhere. [To LILIOM.] In God’s name, be off with you.
LOUISE
Yes, be off with you. Be off. [She slams the gate.]
LILIOM
Miss—please, Miss—I’ve got to do something good—or—do something good—a good deed——
LOUISE
[Pointing with her right hand.] That’s the way out.
LILIOM
Miss——
LOUISE
Get out!
LILIOM
Miss! [Looks up at her suddenly and slaps her extended hand, so that the slap resounds loudly.]
LOUISE
Mother! [Looks dazedly at LILIOM, who bows his head dismayed, forlorn. JULIE rises and looks at LILIOM in astonishment. There is a long pause.]
JULIE
[Comes over to them slowly.] What’s the matter here?
LOUISE
[Bewildered, does not take her eyes off LILIOM.] Mother—the man—he hit me—on the hand—hard—I heard the sound of it—but it didn’t hurt—mother—it didn’t hurt—it was like a caress—as if he had just touched my hand tenderly. [She hides behind JULIE. LILIOM sulkily raises his head and looks at JULIE.]
JULIE
[Softly.] Go, my child. Go into the house. Go.
LOUISE
[Going.] But mother—I’m afraid—it sounded so loud—— [Weepingly.] And it didn’t hurt at all—just as if he’d—kissed my hand instead—mother! [She hides her face.]
JULIE
Go in, my child, go in. [LOUISE goes slowly into the house. JULIE watches her until she has disappeared, then turns slowly to LILIOM.]
JULIE
You struck my child.
LILIOM
Yes—I struck her.
JULIE
Is that what you came for, to strike my child?
LILIOM
No—I didn’t come for that—but I did strike her—and now I’m going back.
JULIE
In the name of the Lord Jesus, who are you?
LILIOM
[Simply.] A poor, tired beggar who came a long way and who was hungry. And I took your soup and bread and I struck your child. Are you angry with me?
JULIE
[Her hand on her heart; fearfully, wonderingly.] Jesus protect me—I don’t understand it—I’m not angry—not angry at all—— [LILIOM goes to the doorway and leans against the doorpost, his back to the audience. JULIE goes to the table and sits.]
JULIE
Louise! [LOUISE comes out of the house.] Sit down, dear, we’ll finish eating.
LOUISE
Has he gone?
JULIE
Yes. [They are both seated at the table. LOUISE, her head in her hands, is staring into space.] Why don’t you eat, dear?
LOUISE
What has happened, mother?
JULIE
Nothing, my child. [The HEAVENLY POLICEMEN appear outside. LILIOM walks slowly off at left. The FIRST POLICEMAN makes a deploring gesture. Both shake their heads deploringly and follow LILIOM slowly off at left.]
LOUISE
Mother, dear, why won’t you tell me?
JULIE
What is there to tell you, child? Nothing has happened. We were peacefully eating, and a beggar came who talked of bygone days, and then I thought of your father.
LOUISE
My father?
JULIE
Your father—Liliom. [There is a pause.]
LOUISE
Mother—tell me—has it ever happened to you—has anyone ever hit you—without hurting you in the least?
JULIE
Yes, my child. It has happened to me, too. [There is a pause.]
LOUISE
Is it possible for someone to hit you—hard like that—real loud and hard—and not hurt you at all?
JULIE
It is possible, dear—that someone may beat you and beat you and beat you,—and not hurt you at all.—— [There is a pause. Nearby an organ-grinder has stopped. The music of his organ begins.]
THE CURTAIN FALLS