819 -
Charity appears to be in a trance. When Petofi removes his hand, Quentin asks, what did you do to her? Do you really care what happens to her? asks Petofi. My only concern is her silence, answers Q. I believe you hide a soft core of sentiment beneath your hard shell, says Petofi--leave the room, I must deal with Charity alone. Quentin asks why--is there some secret you don't want me to see? Would you prefer Charity tell all and destroy you? asks Petofi. Quentin leaves. Charity is docile and silent. You're lovely, says Petofi--and you may thank me for the compliment. She does. It's a pity you're also a nuisance, says Petofi, people of your kind are almost always destined to end life tragically, as I shall show you in a moment. He leads her to the window--look out and concentrate, he says--you will soon see the future reveal itself to you--your fate, dear Charity. A picture beyond the window glows, a bright sun. Magda paces the drawing room of the Old House, then answers a knock at the door. It's Charity, who says, I must see you--it's very important. Magda objects--I'm waiting for someone. I want you to read the cards again, insists Charity--something has happened in my life--I must know my future. Better off not, especially tonight, advises Magda. Why? asks Charity. The cards will only tell tragedy tonight, says Magda. She shows Charity the cards spread on the table--I've been reading them, she says, and the end if always the same. It wouldn't be for me, says Charity. Magda says, every arrangement I set up shows there will be an act of violence near here tonight. Charity asks, against who? The man I'm waiting for is the one I must warn, says Magda--Aristede. Charity doesn't know him. Magda encourages Charity to go home to bed, perhaps the cards will read differently tomorrow. The young woman leaves. Aristede shows up. Magda asks him where Petofi is--you must warn him, Aristede! Of what? He asks. The lights flicker as a storm passes through; the chandelier sways. Magda says, I don't know what's going on, but it sure is scary! The front door blows open. Aristede goes outside to look around. He sees the doors have closed, leaving him alone outside, and spies someone in a cloak approaching him. The figure strangles Aristede, falling with him to the ground to finish the job, until Aristede is dead. The caped, hooded creature picks up a long sword and walks away. Magda watches him leave, then looks at Aristede, who is staring, eyes wide open in a death stare. Charity screams, "He's dead!" Petofi demands to know who Charity is talking about. The young man, she answers--his name was Aristede. Petofi demands to know what she saw--who killed him? I don't know, answers Charity, but he was wearing a hood, like an executioner. Petofi wants to hear more. He strangled Aristede, says Charity, then reached down and picked up a scimitar. Petofi admits, even I cannot fully understand the monstrous power of the hand--instead of showing you your own death, I might have been showing you my own--go on, tell me more. I don't want to! she bleats. He makes her watch it again, ordering her, tell me what's happening as you see it. She sees a graveyard, which frightens her. She watches the same man, the executioner, walking through that graveyard. Now she sees some stones, the walls of a building she's never seen before, cold and damp--Petofi is there, being held prisoner, his hand is strapped to a chair. We hear a door opening--someone is coming. The executioner comes downstairs, heading for Petofi, raising the scimitar over his hand.
Down goes the scimitar. "He's cut off your hand!" sobs Charity. "ENOUGH!" bellows Petofi--I've heard all I want to hear. He passes his hand in front of Charity, clearly shaken, thanks her and says, you will begin a new life, one which not everyone will understand, but will be unable to do anything about it--enjoy is while it lasts, he encourages her, and leaves. The strains of Pansy's song fill the room. Quentin sees Petofi leave and asks, what did you do to Charity? See for yourself, suggests Petofi, about to rush off. Q asks, why are you in such a hurry? "One may play many tricks with fate," says Petofi, "but one must not tempt it." He takes his hat and leaves.
Quentin opens the double doors and looks for Charity, who appears to have disappeared. "Charity!" he calls. "Where are you?" he calls. She pops out from behind the drapes, her Pansy Cockney accent in full force, laughing--I'm right here! she says--name your pleasure and it's yours--a favorite song, (she grabs a red shawl from the back of a chair), a dance, or some other demonstration of my unique talents--speak up! Do you know who I am? He asks. I sure do, she replies. Do you know WHAT I am, he asks. Pinching his cheek, she says, "You're a bit of all right, you are."--you're the reason I hung around so long, not Carl. She pours herself a drink-- Carl was a dear to me, but he was such a barmy one! "He put it right out of your head, didn't he?" asks Quentin. She drinks. Put what right out of my head? She demands--I've never forgotten a thing in my life--part of my stock in trade, Luv. Quentin wonders, why did he leave here so quickly?--he looked frightened. Who are you talking about? She asks. The gentleman who was here a little while ago, he reminds her. Ohhhhh, she says, the old gent--he left. I know that, but why? asks Q. I don't know, she says, but may I entertain you in my own inimitable fashion?--sit right down. Q is already on his way out, heading upstairs. She chases after him, asking, where are you going--don't you want to watch my act? Pouting at first, she begins to sing Pansy's song.
Aristede waits in the room where Barnabas is chained in his coffin. Petofi comes in--it's pleasure to see you looking well, he says--and alive! Aristede is puzzled. It's a feeble attempt at levity, says Petofi--I'm in grave danger--our enemies are on the way again, how far away I don't know, but they will be here and we must take steps to avoid capture. Aristede suggests, we must leave. We have a prisoner much too valuable to leave behind, Petofi reminds him--Barnabas may prove to be the perfect means of escape--all our lives, we've been running, always running, complains Petofi, now the time has come to throw our enemies off, by giving them some small measure of Satisfaction--come long, we have work to do--we must leave Barnabas alone, for this is an emergency, says Petofi--and they exit.
Charity is standing in the middle of the drawing room, doing her hootchie-koo dance for no one. (She really does have a lovely voice.) She swivels her derriere, flips her crimson shawl in the air and only stops when Quentin comes bursting back into the house. You're a rotter for running off like that, she bitches--I want to entertain you! Maybe some other time, he says impatiently, rushing for the door. She asks where he's going. To see someone. "A woman?" she asks, running her fingers up his arm. Yes, he says, now you must step aside. She caresses his face, coyly suggesting, you're having a clandestine relationship with someone, aren't you? Move or be moved, he orders. You want to stay here with me, she insists. He lifts her up and out of his way--I'm in a hurry! He says. I can wait, says Charity, you'll be back to me. She sings Pansy's song again, right outside the front doors of Collinwood.
Cemetery - Aristede and Petofi are looking at tombstones. Petofi pronounces John Wilkins as a name with no character, and they go on, Aristede holding up a lamp so they can read the stones. Alexander Markham, muses Petofi--but it's a pity he died so long ago--now this is more like it, exults Petofi. I wish you'd tell me what you're looking for, says Aristede. Petofi insists I want to keep you in suspense--Abraham Howell--fine, strong name of a man who died recently, poor chap (1846-1897)--this gentleman will do very well--start digging. Aristede commences to work.
Aristede, shirt sleeves rolled up, unearths the coffin. Petofi orders him, open it. Aristede does, dirt falling off the top. Splendid, says Petofi, the state of decomposition is perfectly advanced. Aristede has no idea.
Take my word for it, advises Petof--hello, Mr. Howell--I'm sorry for disturbing your rest, but we have urgent need of your services...
Old House - Quentin visits Magda--we must rescue Barnabas, he insists. Are you crazy? She asks. No, says Quentin--I think there's a chance for us to succeed. She refuses to listen--you tried to save him once before and are lucky you got away with your life--if you try a second time and I help you, both of us will be killed. I believe the situation has changed, says Q. Oh? she asks--has Petofi lost his powers? I don't know about that, says Q, but something happened to Petofi tonight, and when he left there, I could swear he was very frightened, and he isn't a man who frightens easily--perhaps his fear will distract them while we go get Barnabas. Magda calls him a fool--Petofi is too strong, smart, his powers too great. Barnabas holds the key to the future, Q reminds her, now for some reason, I'm part of that future, of his time--I must find out how that will affect me--I'm going to free Barnabas, one way or another--are you with me? She tightens her lips, thinking about it. What do you say? he asks impatiently.
She finally decides he needs someone to distract Aristede--so I will go--we must make a plan. We will make one along the way, says Q. He sees a face at the window. I saw no one, says Magda. Quentin looks, but the someone is gone. There's one knock at the door. Quentin goes to check it out, and finds a note stabbed into the door that says, "Between life and death, there's not room for a flea to jump." What does it mean? he asks Magda. Horrified, she says it's from the gypsies, from King Johnny Romano's tribe--they have come for the hand--"and for me!" she says, gasping.
NOTES: One still must wonder why Petofi fears gypsies so much--and what makes him think, if he does attain going to the future, there won't be gypsies waiting there, with a long memory for grudges? There are always angry descendants! No more Charity, Petofi has transformed her into Pansy Faye, and she does sing well and tease Quentin so seductively. Why did Petofi feel compelled to turn Charity into a completely different person? Why didn't he just make her forget what she knows about Quentin? Seems like he went too far just to give Charity a more fun life. Uh oh, sounds like the gypsies have caught up with both Magda and Petofi! What will happen to them? Once again, Petofi shows someone a vision that does not match what he expects. Why is this power not working properly for him?
820 - Agitated, Magda examines the knife and note left at the Old House the day before.
Charles Tate, in his studio, sketches on a pad of paper, Quentin's portrait behind him. There's a knock at the door. Come in, he calls to Petofi, who complains that a host usually answers his own door. Oh, her, says Petofi, looking over Charles' shoulder at the sketch he's working on--I never understood why you persist in painting that same portrait over and over again. I told you, says Tate, annoyed. You're a grown man, says Petofi, only little boys invent "ideal women." I don't want to go over this again, says Tate--I like to paint her because she's the only thing in this world that really belongs to me. She doesn't exist, says Petofi. She exists to me! retorts Tate. I must tolerate your childish fantasies, says Petofi, since you serve me well. I suppose you want something from me, says Tate. I hope someday, Charles, you will be less bitter, remarks Petofi. What do you want? asks Charles. Something that requires the touch of a master's hand, says Petofi. He touches Tate with his hand, hurting him, and says, "This."
What's your answer? demands Petofi. Nothing you say surprises me, says Tate, nervously pacing the studio--but more grisly than your usual request. You will do it? asks Petofi. There are many other artists, says Tate--get one of them. None have your touch, says Petofi. Try the local embalmer, suggests Charles sarcastically.
You've had your little joke, says Petofi--your answer? Tate is flustered--I want no part of this or you. You have a contract with me, Petofi reminds him. Why do you want this? demands Charles. Will it soothe you to know that no one will be hurt by this little deception? asks Petofi. I don't believe that, says Tate. I never harm anyone unless it's vitally necessary, says Petofi. Yes, like with Charity, says Tate, I stayed up all night wondering what you inflicted on her. Petofi assures him that Charity is fine, thoroughly happy. I can imagine, says Tate sarcastically. When can you start? asks Petofi, bringing over a case containing something Tate clearly doesn't want to look at. Don't be so squeamish, says Petofi, forcing it into his hands--I'll be back this afternoon, and expect you to be finished. Charles glances inside, then closes it, looking very ill.
Amanda, in her room, packs a suitcase. Tim comes in--what are you doing? he asks. Leaving, she says flatly. And you weren't going to tell me? demands Tim. you don't own me, and can't keep me here, she insists. I was counting on you to help me, says Tim, just a few more visits to Trask. That's too much, she says, I can't stand that pompous idiot. But he's hooked, Tim says, don't spoil it for him. You don't tell me anything, bitches Amanda--I don't know what your plans for Trask are. I'll tell you when the time has come, says Tim. The time HAS come, says Amanda--I'm sick of hearing that, too.
You can't leave me now, says Tim, I need you. He touches her shoulders intimately. It would be different if you needed me yourself, but you're just using me, she says. And paying you well, he reminds her. I don't care that much about the money, she says. "That's not what you told me in New York," Tim reminds her. I've changed, she says. Why, what made you change? he asks. I don't know, but I have, says Amanda, and I've got to leave this town. He takes her in his arms--one more day, he asks, caressing her--one more day. She becomes angry--for a minute I thought you were going to enjoy my company. I was, says Tim, I do enjoy your company--one more day will make all the difference in the world, he says--I will accomplish what's necessary and will have Trask where I want him. I don't want either of us to stay, protests Amanda--I feel there will be disaster if we do. I can only think of the bliss if I get what I want, says Tim. They're sitting together on the bed; he draws her close for a kiss. You know how I feel about you, he says--do this one last favor and I promise to take you back to NY myself. The kiss convinces her--do you really mean it? she asks. Yes, he replies. What do you want me to do? she asks. Put on your makeup and best dress, he says, and I'll tell you about the gentleman I want you to meet. What's his name? she asks. "Count Petofi," he says
Petofi's mill hideaway - Magda comes to see him. Do not implore me to release Barnabas, orders Petofi. She shows him the note that had been stuck in the Old House door. He reads it and says, it's interesting and often true. It's an old gypsy saying, she says, and describes how she received it. You know, says Petofi, as I do, that the gypsies are coming here--I suspect the town will be swarming with them. You already knew? she asks, perturbed. It wasn't an act of clairvoyance, I learned by accident, he replies. What will you do? she asks. Nothing, he says--they won't be looking for me unless they know I'm here--and they don't--the note suggests they are looking for you, he says. Help me, protect me, she says. If I protect you, says Petofi, they may find me, he points out--I'm reluctant to endanger my own life. Maybe they will find out you are in Collinsport, she suggests. They won't know unless you tell them, he says, and you won't betray me because you won't be able to speak or write my name! He touches her mouth with the magic hand--try to say it, he suggests. Magda can't do it! And you will not, he warns--is that quite clear?--I hope your brethren won't be too angry when they find you--I have a certain fondness for you, but you must go now. I don't want to go back to the Old House now, insists Magda. I have another visitor, he says, so get out.
She sneers, "I hope it's King Johnny himself!" then turns and leaves. Amanda enters, dressed exquisitely. Who are you? he asks. My name is Amanda Harris, she says--Tim Shaw directed me here. So Tim has decided to disregard his advice, says Petofi. Amanda lifts the black veil covering her eyes. Petofi stops speaking. Amazing, he says, shocked--come closer--I won't hurt you.--it's astonishing, you're very beautiful, one might almost say, the ideal woman--have you had your portrait painted? No, she says. Sit down, he says--when did you first met Charles Delaware Tate? I don't even know the name, she says. Petofi is further astounded--where are you from? He asks. New York, she answers. You were born and brought up there? He asks. Yes, she says. You must have been seen by Tate, he says. Why are you so interested in my origins? she asks. I have only half an hour, he says kindly state your business. You're a strange man, says Amanda--I need your help--I'm in love with Tim. Then he's very fortunate, says Petofi. I want to get him away from here; she says--he came to get revenge on someone and I'm afraid for him--he might get hurt or killed. Petofi asks, what does all this have to do with me? Tim told me that you have has a talisman of great power that will ensure his revenge--let him use it just once--I'm so afraid of living in danger--help me get Tim away from here! You must indeed be in love with him, says Petofi--has Tim told you anything about this "talisman" of mine?--has he told you what it is?--no?-- then I will--he peels off his glove and shows her the hand. It has great power, he snarls, too much to be meddled with by the likes of Shaw--I'm not surprised by his clumsy attempt--once I congratulated him on his choice of enemies, now I congratulate him on his taste in women, but his conception of strategy is pathetically inadequate. Without another word, Amanda leaves. Petofi bows and says, I hope we meet again.
Magda returns to the Old House and hangs up her shawl. The room is in total disarray, furniture overturned, draperies pulls down. A man comes downstairs. "King Johnny!" cries Magda as he stares balefully at her.
Johnny approaches Magda. Are you frightened? the gypsy asks. Have mercy! she begs. She asks for mercy, which is good, coming from a swine like her--that's something, sneers Johnny. What are you going to do? she asks. I know what I'd like to do, he says, pulling out a knife--slit your throat here and now and be done with you and the problems you caused. Please, she implores. You will get to live your miserable life a little longer, Johnny assures her, not because of pity, but because we don't have the hand--if you return the hand willingly, and don't deceive us again, then maybe--maybe--your punishment won't be so severe--but because of Julianka's death, there is no way for you to avoid going on trial. Kill me now, then, Magda begs, because I "ain't got the hand" and can't get it for you. You're lying, he accuses. You searched the house and didn't find it, she reminds him. I'm going to search again, he says, and while I'm gone, think again, think well, if you can't remember where the hand is, then maybe I won't have to take you back for a trial. He tucks the knife under her chin and adds, maybe King Johnny will kill you right here!
Amanda asks Tim what he's going to do. I have to stay here, says Tim. You can leave anytime you want, she says. I prefer to stay, he insists. Why is Trask so important to you? asks Amanda. He was responsible for the deaths of two people, says Tim, one of whom happened to be very close to me--I loved her very much. A woman? she asks. I wasn't in love with her, amends Tim--it's a kind of love. I understand, says Amanda. You'd better pack, he says. I'm going to stick around a little longer, says Amanda--you refuse to understand the danger you're in, and I can't protect you, but perhaps I can, in time, convince you to leave for your own good--promise me that you won't have anything to do with Petofi; he's the most frightening man I've ever met--he kept asking me questions about my past, but the way he asked gave me the feeling he was seeing deep inside me. Petofi's questions weren't unusual, says Tim. But before two years ago, says Amanda, I don't remember anything about my past. She looks at Tim, who is perplexed.
Magda wrings her hands nervously, walking around the mess of the Old House drawing room. She rights the candles in the stand. Johnny returns, empty-handed, and says, I see nothing but a lying, thieving gypsy. She begs him. He reminds her, call me "King Johnny." I don't have the hand and don't know who does, she says, and I can't tell you who does.
You are Magda, who can say anything you want to say, he says--maybe you need some help in remembering, he suggests--I will give you that help. He hits her across the face, first with the front of his hand, then the back of it. How about that?--do you remember the name? asks Johnny. He draws out the knife--or do you need more help? Magda spots something under an overturned chair--the box containing the hand! King Johnny takes the box and says, you finally realized going against your people was a little too dangerous--you were clever, as always, you slipped it there while I was upstairs. I swear I didn't, says Magda, because I don't have it--the box must be empty! He open it, then closes it, then moves aside. Look for yourself, he says. She does, staring at him, opens it and gasps--the hand lies inside!
NOTES: Petofi stole a hand from a corpse in the cemetery, then had Charles Tate make it look like the hand that formerly occupied that box and is now re-attached to its former owner. What would King Johnny say if he knew the truth? That the hand he has found is not what he thinks? Surely he will blame Magda for the deception, and she didn't even know about it, poor, smacked-around woman!
Why did Amanda go to see Petofi? What was the point?--to try to get back the hand for Tim? Does he really think Petofi will relinquish it now that he finally got it back--and after so much trouble? Petofi, of course, recognizes her as Charles Tate's "ideal woman," who the artist can't stop painting and sketching. What will happen should Tate meet Amanda? Is she really in love with Tim, or just think so? What big secret is she about to reveal to Tim about her past?
What will happen to poor Magda now?
Love, Robin
