821 - Jonathan Frid does the intro, a rare happening. He does a splendid job, of course, with THAT voice.
Johnny Romano is thrilled he's gotten the hand back for his people--King Johnny, he proclaims--for today I am truly a king! He returns the hand to the box and asks Magda--what are you?--a liar and murderer of your own people.
It wasn't my fault Julianka died, protests Magda. Are you going to tell me you didn't kill her when she came for the hand? demands Johnny. No, says Magda, but can't tell him the name of who did. You're a liar to the very end, accuses Johnny, with the hand in this very room, you lied, and all the time trying to keep it to yourself, instead of returning it to your people--that's all finished now--I have the hand and you, too. What will happen to me? she asks. You will go back to Boston to be tried, he says, as soon as I give thanks for finding the hand--and you should give thanks, too, for if I didn't find it, I hate to think of what would happen to you--you will give thanks, then we will go. Johnny opens his arms and calls to wild flowers of the field, birds of the air, gypsy children--thank you for the return of this, our most previous possession. Magda tries to sneak out the door, but there is a towering, colorfully dressed black man standing there, blocking her escape. She cries out in dismay. Johnny says, you've been living with the gadjos too long if you think a king would just let you go. He tells Istvan, the huge man--she won't go anywhere but where we tell her to go--she will go on trial, he says--no one ever used the hand against another gypsy before, but Magda isn't even a gypsy anymore. That hand, says Magda. . .nothing. Can I say goodbye to Jenny and Sandor and Jenny's baby before I go? She asks. No, he says, no time for that--and perhaps you'll be saying hello to them quicker than you think. Istvan bursts into weird laughter at this jest, grabs Magda and forces her out the door behind King Johnny. Aristede appears, looking pleased.
Petofi's mill - He walks around the coffin. Aristede enters. It went exactly as you said it would, he tells Petofi--they came to the house, found the hand where I had left it, and took the gypsy witch away with them--I watched the whole thing, laughs Aristede. I had one terrible fear of what might have gone wrong, says Petofi--what if the gypsies had tried to use the hand? Nothing? asks Aristede. Although Tate's artistic talents made the false hand a perfect match for my own, says Petofi, I doubt the recently departed Abraham Howell could give the gypsies what they want--by now they would be swarming all over us with that pursuing instinct they seem to possess.
Petofi admires his own hand. We got what we wanted, says Aristede. Petofi agrees--we got time--I was standing by Barnabas' resting place, thinking about the future a great deal--bring me the Collins family history book--I need guidance, and hope the book will guide us to the future--I'm especially interested in knowing if Magda's tribesmen hurt her. They weren't "kind" to her, laughs Aristede. Petofi laughs along and says, they will be less kind in a very little while--I'm very pleased with the way you handled this matter; I wish I could see the gypsies when. . .no, better not, like black cats, they bring misfortune. Petofi pages through the Collins family book, looking to see what the future may hold.
Aristede puts some sheet music on a very unusual stand. Someone enters the mill. Aristede asks who is there, but all he hears is a wind that knocks first the music off the stand, then tips over several pieces of furniture. I'm not afraid, Aristede tells the entity, but when the candles blow out, he calls for Petofi, scared. Someone is here, says Aristede, but I see no one. Petofi seems to know who it is, and asks the alien spirit "to depart in peace, depart unsatisfied, before there is nothing left but eternal wandering--return before the grave closes behind you forever," intones Petofi. The lights comes back on. Petofi assures Aristede, we will be troubled no more. Who was it? asks Aristede. Probably the good man whose hand we took the previous night, says Petofi, he's understandably restless and disturbed--pick up my music, I have something else for you to do. It surprises me, says Aristede, that with a ghost on the premises, you can still think about your music. Ghosts come and go, says Petofi, even gypsies can finally be gotten rid of, but music and pleasure of the senses endure forever--I wonder--the music, paintings, beautiful people of 1969--what will they be like?--I burn to find out! (Take Petofi to see HAIR. He'll love it!)
Dusk - Petofi opens Barnabas' coffin and removes the cross from his chest. You can move, says Petofi, but not very far. He backs up against the door and holds up a cross. What has happened? asks Barnabas. Since you closed your tired eyes, quite a lot, says Petofi--Jamison is still ill and possessed by David. Barnabas has risen to his feet, standing before Petofi. "Then everything is the same," says Barn. Petofi says, I didn't say that--he's in far worse condition, because I am far more anxious to get to the future--do you follow me? I can't give you that secret! insists Barnabas. I'm still disposed to think you are lying, says Petofi--I've been studying your family history with great interest, and wonder why you came back here--I know it concerns some of those people, right? I can only say what I have before, says Barnabas--I can't pass through time, nor take you. "BUT YOU WILL NOT EVEN TRY!" screams Petofi. He calms down, even smiles
--if you will say no more, I must remain what I am, a restless spectator in a play about to begin--I sit in my seat, staring at the program, wondering what will happen onstage--but supposing there is NOTHING when the curtain rises but a bare stage?--allow me to make my meaning clear. Aristede comes in holding two flaming torches. In my time, explains Petofi, I destroyed entire gypsy villages with them--with them, I could burn Collinwood to the ground--what need of the building if there are no Collinses?--if Jamison dies, there will be no Elizabeth, Roger and David, all will cease to exist in 1969!--I have studied my history very carefully. "I see," says Barnabas--I am surprised, I expected better from you--"You are incompetent." "How dare you call me incompetent?" snarls Petofi. "In one night I could destroy a whole generation of Collinses." Aristede, holding the torches, offers to go to Collinwood right now--I will do the job quickly, accurately and efficiently. Think about it, Petofi advises Barnabas--no Collinwood, no Collinses!--ask yourself, suggest the count, if your secret is worth as much as that...
King Johnny and Magda are in the woods, a fire built. We will have our supper, he says, then march to the caravan, then journey on to Boston--Istvan, gather more wood. The man goes. He doesn't say much, comments Magda, not a word. He was once accused of a crime by another gypsy, says Johnny, and set to go on trial before the others--he ran away, and when caught, he was punished--because his tongue is cut out!-- he would tell you, Magda, if he could talk, to stay very close to the campfire tonight--very close!
I never thought I'd be going back like this, laments Magda. Neither you nor Jenny should have left your people, says Johnny--both of you forgot what it means to be gypsies. Istefan alerts them with grunts that someone has rifled through their belongings. Johnny is mystified--who could have gotten past us? Somebody did, says Magda with a gasp.
As Aristede holds his flaming torches aloft, Petofi again asks Barnabas, is you secret worth Collinwood's destruction? We will have to work that out together, says Barnabas--if there is to be no Collinwood or Collinses, there can be no future for me, which means none for you, either. (Barnabas, you are clever!) I suggest you send Aristede off with his fireworks, advises Barnabas. Incensed, Petofi pushes the cross in Barnabas' face, complaining, it wearies me to talk to you. Barnabas cowers away. Petofi orders Aristede, be careful--he's our prize specimen. Barnabas looks very unhappy indeed. "I will find a way to get free, Count Petofi," vows Barnabas. Not before I find a way to get to the future, says Petofi.
Magda suggests some tramps opened the knapsack and took the hand. No way, says Johnny, no tramp lives I can't see or hear--besides, they didn't take anything--I am going to bless the hand right now--I was going to wait until we got to Boston, but have decided to do it now. You have no reason to change your plans, says Magda. There have been too many non-gypsies near this hand, says Johnny, and that's bad--I must bless it now. You won't use it now, will you? she asks. Why not? he demands. She looks unsure. He accuses her of letting a non-gypsy get near this, use it! She shakes her head. A wind blows up, followed by lightning and thunder. A ghost missing his right hand appears before them. What do you want? Asks Johnny. The ghost takes the false hand and stuffs it into his empty jacket sleeve.
Johnny sees the hand in the box has disappeared. I don't know who that was, insists Magda. But you do, says Johnny--you got a good look at him when you opened the grave and took his hand! Magda denies it. You tried to pull the "bajor," the big switch, accuses Johnny, the oldest gypsy trick in existence. He grabs her--you tried to pull the bajor on me, on all of us! I didn't do it, I swear! bleats Magda. Who did? he demands. I still can't say, she tells him. Put out the fire, Johnny orders Istvan,--gather up our things, we are going back to the caravan, back to Boston now! The men start tossing stuff into the knapsack, but Magda has slipped away. Istefan, find Magda and bring her to the caravan at the edge of the lake! Orders Johnny--we will go back to Boston--bring her back--anyway he can! Magda, hiding in the bushes, watches Istvan head out to find her.
NOTES: King Johnny is pretty cool. I always did like him, even though he intended Magda harm she didn't entirely deserve. I loved the scene between Petofi and Barnabas, and the way Barnabas one-upped him. Barnabas has a valid point--what difference does it make to him to get Petofi to the future, to do anything for the bullying megalomaniac, if his own family is destroyed and he has nothing left to return to?
Its really unfortunately for Amanda that she loves Tim Shaw and he loves revenge and himself. He is using her, she knows it, but it sounds like she has a weird past, and why doesn't she remember anything before two years ago, anyway? You sense Tim likes her, but would just as soon discard her once his own pioneer justice is served.
Once again, we see Magda being physically abused, this time by one of her own. That made me wince. I wouldn't want to stick with people who hit me, that's for sure! The story Johnny told Magda about Istvan and why he can't speak is chilling.
Glad for Mr. Howell returning to get his own hand, even if it did mess things up for poor Magda. Will she escape Istvan? Will she come out of this mess alive? She doesn't even have Barnabas to help her now!
CD Tate leaves me cold. It was fun to watch Petofi hit him with an extracurricular painting job. That hand looked damn close to the real one, didn't it?
822 - Tate's studio - Petofi lights a cheroot and tells Charles, you've been of enormous value and I owe you much thanks--you transformed an ordinary hand into a work of art, so like mine, I felt a twinge of pain when I planted it for the gypsies to find. The gypsies will know it's a fake, warns Charles. Yes, but I have another plan, Petofi assures him, a most daring exploit, a journey into the unknown--can you imagine what the world will be like 80 years from today?
Petofi gazes over Tate's shoulder and sees he is painting a brooch. You have an eye for jewelry, says Petofi, just as good as your eye for beauty--I can never look at the portrait without being overwhelmed by the girl's eyes--the truth--who modeled this for you? No one, and you know it, answers Tate. She's so real and lifelike, says Petofi, you must have seen her somewhere and forgotten, as if you were a camera and took the picture without knowing it. I'd never have let her go, insists Tate. More interesting still, cackles Petofi--how long ago did you start painting her? Two years, says Charles. What will you put in now, the brooch? Asks Petofi. I didn't ask you here, Tate reminds him--you came to ask me about something I didn't want to do, and thanked me--let me alone so I can work. This brooch will look beautiful on her, comments Petofi--did you find this design... Tate snatches the painting from Petofi's hand. I know you don't want to share anything with me, says the Count, but at least answer that question. I dreamed she was wearing it, says Tate. You're in love with her, says Petofi. I'm in love with all my paintings, says Tate. That's an unsatisfactory answer, says Petofi, laughing--you're in love with that face, those hands, and it's not healthy--I'm not an angel on an errand of mercy, but I have met a girl I think you would be most interested in, a girl you must see. . . Tate looks at him, confused.
A girl I must see? asks Charles--I don't want to seem jaded, but I've seen lots of girls in my day--I'm more serious about my work than social life. I worry about you, says Petofi--someone must, you're far too self-contained. I have no interest in meeting anyone you wish to introduce me to, says Tate, because it would be a favor for you--get out and let me work! If I come back for you this afternoon, will you at least go look at her? asks Petofi. All right, Tate agrees, if that will make you leave. Six PM, says Petofi, when the lady is in the habit of leaving her room for dinner. Charles agrees. Petofi says, if you knew how determined I am that you meet Amanda Harris... Charles gives him a look as he leaves.
Collinwood - I thought I saw him on the street, the man I ran away from, an upset Amanda relates to Trask--it wasn't him, but I felt all the same emotions, the desire to run... And the desire to stay and see him, adds Trask, to see him, enter again into that forbidden relationship. "You know me so well," she coos. I've been blessed with certain gifts, insights, he says. Perhaps--he touches and squeezes her shoulder--we should consider a new, positive step, perhaps your faith isn't strong enough to carry you over the shoals of this life--perhaps I expected too great a change too quickly. I promise to do anything you suggest, says Amanda--you're my only hope!
He takes her hands in his--"My dear child," he says, staring into her eyes, lust very obviously on his mind. He steps away from her--you need more personal attention than you've been getting, he says, so when you feel moments of weakness, you will have my strength to help fight them. Yes, she says, playing the helpless woman to the hilt. I think you should move into Collinwood, says Trask. Move here? she asks. In these secluded halls, perhaps you will find the inner tranquility we all need, he says. Would it seem proper? she asks--if I came to live here, it might be misinterpreted. Only by those whose minds dwell on evil, responds Trask. You've told me so often evil in the eye of beholder often becomes fact, Amanda reminds him. I might have said that, agrees Trask, but not specifically regarding this. He touches her shoulder--you must consider herself ill, he says. But I must also consider that you have a wife who is also ill, she says (her face conveys barely-controlled distaste). My wife would be the first to tell me to do my duty, he says, and you are my duty--I will send a carriage for you this afternoon. I must think, she protests. But when you came to me, you promised to follow my recommendations, he says. Within reason, she reminds him. What could be more within reason than my saving you from yourself? he asks. "But are you, sir?" she asks, "Or are you simply offering me new temptations?" Trask smiles, assuring her, there will be none of that--I count on my own strength to see to that. I just can't move here, she says. You must think it over, he advises--I will show you to a room where you can be alone, and in the peace of this brilliant day, see that I want only good for you--and I, personally, will bring your luggage here. No, I must think, she insists, you can't force me into this! She runs off, Trask calling, "Wait!" He races past Pansy/Charity, who teases him about having had a fight with his girl... He calls her Charity. She asks why--you know who I am, I'm Pansy Faye! She sings her song and bumps him with her hip (an absolutely riotous scene), swinging her butt around. Trask demands she come into the drawing room. She bursts into laughter. No, you don't get me into that room, no sir, she says, I know your kind. He demands, break through this possession. I could use some company, she admits, and joins him in the drawing room--I'm not used to being alone, I like crowds in my business, lots of people visiting me backstage like Carl did. . .like Carl, she says sadly. You are NOT Pansy Faye, insists Trask. There you go, telling me who I am, she complains--I can prove it. She takes the crimson shawl and drapes it over her shoulders, introducing herself as the leading songstress, Miss Pansy Faye. She offers to tell him the future--I can tell you everything that will happen. "My dear, my dear," he laments. She asks, what do you want to know about yourself?--I know all, see all, tell all. The devil has captured this house, says Trask, you, Edward, Jamison--where will it all end? Do you want to know that? she asks--I can tell you by looking in your face and see your death--"Your death! You will die alone. A rope. You are tied with a rope. Are you hanging? No, you are not hanging, you are tied in a room, alone, you scream for help, but no one hears you, no one can hear you, and you die alone!"
Trask looks at her, horrified.
Trask tells Charity, only the highest authority above can tell us when we will die, and how--you are being blasphemous! Looking a little sickly, she pulls away from him--no, she says. I want you to stop saying these thing she says. I say what I see, she insists--Luv--only it isn't like it used to be before Carl, I used to just say it, but now, since I came here, it's as if there was another voice telling me what to say. And we both know whose voice that is, says Trask--the Prince of Darkness himself. She bursts into laughter and says, that might be what you call it. I'm glad your dear mother isn't here to share my sorrow at seeing you like this, he says. My mother taught me everything she knows, protests Pansy, she was in pantomime. I am going to take you upstairs until you recover yourself, he insists, and he drags her to the stairs. She protests, I didn't sing my song yet, and that's how I always end my act! She sings it as she walks upstairs, very sexily. Trask follows her as she impudently bumps her butt at him.
Amanda tells Tim, you can't expect me to stay at Collinwood with that old fool. Doesn't seem like such a bad idea, says Tim--perhaps you might grow to enjoy it. I would not!, she says--don't ask me to do it, don't even try--I can understand your desire for revenge, but where is this all leading? So, Trask is in love with you? he asks--and then we will get all we want, all the Collinses have--a man like Trask doesn't love someone without doing something about it!--when Minerva was in his way, he got rid of her, and soon Judith, and then you will be a bride. No! insists Amanda. And soon thereafter, a widow, says Tim--I don't think he'd let your marriage last long, you won't have to do anything you don't want to do. (like bang boots with the Rev?) I don't like this, says Amanda--why don't you go to the police and tell them how Evan and Trask tricked you? I can't, says Tim, whatever those two pillars did to me, the point is, I put the poison in Mrs. Trask's tea, and those two will pay dearly for that. When we have all the money we need, he says, we can go to Europe. Why are you so determined to punish him? she asks--you are free!--don't think about the past. Be like you? he asks. I don't know anything about my past, or I wouldn't be here, she says angrily--Amanda Harris in Collinwood--when you told me about this in NY, I thought it an easy job, an adventure, but nothing worked out right--that first night, when you asked me to give you the jade pendant, that should have been an omen it wouldn't be a happy visit. I promised you diamonds that night, he reminds her. I haven't forgotten, she says, you have. I haven't, he assures her. Prove that statement, she says, jewelry can do a lot for a girl--"when she's like me." Sometimes, says Tim, you don't really know what you're like, and that's what's so interesting about you. He sits down on the bed and puts an arm around her. I'll stay as long as I never have to stay at Collinwood, says Amanda. We'll see, he says. No, she says, I want a promise on that. "How many diamonds did you say you wanted?" he asks in mock puzzlement. More than you can ever buy me here, she says. They kiss, nice and deep.
Later, Tim returns from Brathwaite and Sons, where he claims to Amanda, I bought cufflinks. You bought something for me, she insists, knowing I needed a present. I got there and found nothing really good enough for her, he says, not like in NY. Stop, she orders--give me the box. I did decide to you her a little something, says Tim, but it isn't as expensive as I would have liked. She opens it, tells him it's beautiful, and kisses him lavishly.
Petofi and Tate (sounds like a law firm) enter the Collinsport Inn. Are we just going to stand here and see if she appears? Tate asks. She will, Petofi assures him--I know her habits well. I can imagine, says Tate--I he see your mind working on all of this, you have a reason, and I demand to know what it is. I must play out this scene as I conceived it, says Petofi, urging Charles to sit down--you will thank me later. Petofi rises from the chair--I'll be leaving now--one should be alone when something important is going to happen to one--others, even someone who knows you as well as I do, is an unnecessary distraction. Charles is furious. I know you'll stay, says Petofi--your curiosity will ensure it--she's leaving her room at this very moment, walking down the corridor toward the staircase--when you see her, you will come to see me, and I will want to, but until you do, au revoir. Upset, pissed, but very curious, Tate sticks around.
Amanda and Tim walk downstairs, laughing. My mood changes every time I get something I want, she says. (like a child) Tim goes to check for messages, leaving Amanda standing in full view of Tate. He stares at her, seeing she is wearing the very same brooch he himself painted earlier that day! Charles states, absolutely stunned.
Tim returns. The clasp is loose, complains Amanda. I was going to get you some diamonds, he says, fixing the clasp, but when I saw this brooch, I had to get it for you. I'm glad you did, she says. Everything is all right, Tim says, kissing her. She agrees.
Back at his studio, Tate gazes at the painting of the brooch he did earlier that morning, then at the painting we have yet to see. The brooch is painted on the bosom of a woman in the painting who looks exactly like Amanda Harris! It's not possible, murmurs Tate, staring at the portrait incredulously.
NOTES: So what's this? Tate paints a portrait, over and over, of a girl he's never met and claims never posed for him--yet here is Amanda Harris, not only an exact duplicate, but wearing the very brooch he painted? What gives here? What mystery is this? Is Petofi involved? He sure seems fascinated at the outcome, didn't he?
Amanda, like a child, loves shiny jewelry. Does that mean anything? Not yet, perhaps, but it will!
Love Charity/Pansy. She predicts Trask's death--sounds like the kind someone of his ilk deserves! Alone! A prisoner! And isn't it fun to watch Trask's "new" daughter interact with him? A worse papa for Pansy couldn't be imagined!
Love, Robin
