1210 - The plague! Melanie cries over and over--"Going through the village!" The black plague?--is that what you mean? asks Quentin. Melanie goes on as if she can't hear him. The smell of bodies burning! Sickened, Flora says "Melanie." It couldn't be the Black Plague, insists Quentin, it belongs to the Middle Ages. It will happen, unless...the door, the locked door, one goes in, one must go in, says Melanie. Who are you? asks Quentin. No one will escape! cries Melanie. How do you know these things? asks Quentin. Flora asks to know, too. He was cruel, says Melanie--he killed, he was so cruel. Did he kill you? asks Quentin. The Plague, it is just, says Melanie--it is just! Tell me, says Quentin, why is it that the spirit demands one of us sacrifice ourselves? I can tell you no more, answers Melanie--the room, go to the locked room--she passes out. Flora comes over--are you all right? Melanie raises her head, out of the trance--did I have one of my attacks?--did I say who it was? No, replies Quentin, turning on the lamp, but it's my guess that you are the same woman you are when having the attacks, because when you have the attacks, you seem to know something about the curse--you remember how she was at Father's coffin, he reminds Flora. Melanie bursts into tears--oh, Mama! she wails. Flora wants to discuss it later, but Quentin insists they do so now. The child isn't well, says Flora. And she won't be until this is solved, says Quentin. Did you at least find out why the curse was placed upon the family? asks Melanie. No, says Quentin, but we got a clue--the Plague--it's obvious that the disease is in this house because a generation of the family one time refused to go along with the legend of the locked room. It may be a coincidence that the disease is in this house--it's entirely possible that a seafaring man from the Orient came here just as the right moment, but that would be easy to prove by the family history or village archives. Quentin, I don't feel we know anymore than we did before, says Flora. You know it's also possible that the woman who possessed Melanie is also the same woman who put the curse on the family, suggests Quentin. Please talk of something else, begs Melanie. Flora soothingly says, I know how terrible it is for you. How can you possibly know what it's like? demands Melanie, near hysteria. Please, Quentin begs his sister, you've helped us very much--I'm going to go into the village and find out all I can. Someone knocks at the door. Who can that be at this hour? asks a harried Flora. Melanie volunteers to answer. We shouldn't have done this, Flora tells Quentin--I'm terrified that Melanie is going to become that other person all the time--she's been so nervous since Stella was killed--we should have kept that from her. We have enough secrets in this house, protests Quentin--if she killed Stella, she deserves to know it. Melanie comes to breathlessly report, the police are at the door--they want to question us about Stella's murder.
The three of them look at each other in dismay.
We knew we'd have to go through this questioning, says Flora. Take a deep breath, Quentin orders Melanie--be as calm as you can be. Gentlemen, come in, please, Flora says regally to the unseen police.
Newlyweds Catherine and Morgan prepare for bed in his room. Catherine is taking her clothes out of a suitcase. My wife, says Morgan, and kisses her--I have a secret I'm, afraid to tell, he says. You can tell me, can't you? she asks, smiling. It's something I thought I'd never say in this house--in fact, I'm almost afraid to say it now, he confesses--I'm happy--very happy--thank you! Oh Morgan, she says, hugging him--I want so much to make you happy--and I was so afraid I wouldn't. You're thinking of Bramwell, he says. No, she says, covering his lips with her fingers-- of you--the chance you took because of me. Perhaps I learned something that morning, he says--perhaps I learned that, for whatever reason, I CAN win. Didn't you know that? she asks. In this house, it's sometimes difficult to know, he says--but it will be quite different now that you're here. I hope so, she says. They smooch a little more. I'll never be unpacked, she says, I must finish. Tomorrow, he says, looking forward to other activities. Tonight, she insists, putting some clothing away in the dresser. Is there anything you don't do gracefully? he asks. Many things, she says with a chuckle. I don't believe that, he says--if we only had the time--think of all the wonderful things we're going to learn about each other. We'll have the time, she assures him. When you say that, I almost believe it, he says. We'll spend many years in this room, she says, looking around, I can feel it--oh, Morgan, let's start a family as soon as we can--I do so want to have children--your children. Morgan's face grows dark. What's wrong? she asks. It's out of the question, he says--we will not discuss it! What? she asks. We will never have children, he says. You don't mean that, insists Catherine. How can we? he asks--knowing what they would have to go through--facing the lottery someday, having to go into that room--no, we'll never mention that again. I can't believe you're saying that, says Catherine, astounded. What other choice do I have? he asks. You have the choice of whether or not to let that room dictate your life, she says sharply--the fact is, you believe too strongly in a legend! But you know what happened to my father after he went into that room--and Melanie--she tried to kill you! he reminds her--you know what happens to people who even enter it!--we won't discuss this any further. We will, she says, I intend to live my life here as I would if I lived in any other house. But you can't! he says. You married the wrong woman if you think I'll give into to superstition! she cries. That's not it, he says. Until it's proved otherwise, that's what I'll believe, says Catherine. You're a fool! se says. Morgan! she chastises--just a few moments ago, you told me how happy you were--you won't be happy long--not unless we live our lives as others do--we MUST have children--we must! I never want you to mention that again! he says furiously and stalks out.
Flora sees the police out and returns to the drawing room, where Quentin and Melanie wait. They know I killed Stella, wails a miserable Melanie. Then they know more than we do, says Flora. They kept watching me, says Melanie--every time they asked me a question, they kept watching me. Just your imagination, insists Quentin. It was not! says Melanie--they didn't believe anything any of us said. We can blame Stella's brother for that, says Flora. Oh no, we cannot, says Melanie--we can blame ourselves because we were lying, every one of us, you saying Stella left the house suddenly, Quentin saying he saw her leave--and me most of all! She begins to cry. We should go to our rooms, advises Flora. Quentin comforts the sobbing young woman, assuring her, the police believed every word we told them--who could deny the word of a Collins? I do so hope you're right, says Melanie, kissing him good night and going upstairs. She's right, you know, says Flora. We weren't at our best, agrees Quentin. I'm afraid our questioning has just begun, opines Flora, leaving the room. Quentin looks equally upset.
Continuing to unpack, Catherine, alone in the bedroom, finds a letter from Bramwell in her suitcase, and reads, aloud, "My darling, I have just left your house--how unbelievable it is to me that I shall not see you again for months--or years--but I love you so much that I will make it months--in the city I will have success--I will get money--I will be able to give you everything you ever wanted--your love will make me do miracles that I couldn't do alone--we will be together soon, I promise you, and once we see each other again, we will never be parted. You have my heart--Bramwell.
Melanie hesitantly stops by, looking to bid Catherine good night. You're not afraid when I come into your room, are you? asks Melanie. No, says Catherine. I know it's going to be terribly hard for us to become friends, says Melanie. We will, says Catherine, sniffing. You've been crying, notes Melanie. It's just a mood, says Catherine--I'm afraid I've never learned to control my moods. Catherine muses on all the choices one has to make in life, Melanie, about the choices made for us. Catherine, staring at Bramwell's letter, believes everyone makes her own choices. Even here--at Collinwood? asks Melanie. Even here, says Catherine. I don't know, says Melanie, I always believed I had the right to do anything I pleased with my life--but now...I guess each of us has a secret he must live with. Catherine agrees.
Drawing room - The plague? Morgan disbelievingly asks Quentin--you're off on another wild chase. Quentin reads from a journal--in 1748, Mortimer Collins spent five guineas to have a tooth extracted by a dentist--then spent a whole paragraph complaining about it--if any of the Collinses had the plague, believe me, it will be in here. What does it mean if he really did have? asks Moran--oh, really, Quentin, a seance, and with a mad girl as your medium--the sooner you all realize Melanie is mad, the better off we'll all...Quentin, you're not listening to me. The plague WAS at Collinwood, says Quentin--it says so right here--it started in this house in 1680, four members of the family died--it spread to the village, carts of the dead went daily to the burning grounds. All spread by a diseased ghost, says Morgan sarcastically. The first symptom, says Quentin, was a high fever, then black marks appeared--it's all right here, dear brother. That's quite encouraging, says Morgan--if none of us have to go into that room until the plague comes, we could live for generations. Quentin reads, it stopped as mysteriously; villagers insisted it ended so quickly because of some stronger supernatural force. Please don't bring up anymore legends, we have quite enough as it is, asks Morgan--put that down, I want to talk to you--seriously--this is much more important than the plague--it's about Bramwell and his mother--I want them out of the Old House and off the property. You won the duel, Quentin reminds him--isn't that satisfaction enough for you? It is not, says Morgan. Remember, Quentin says, Justin gave Bramwell's parents the house. Isn't there something we can do? asks Morgan. Yes, shouts Quentin, live up to Father's agreement--now forget it! I can't, insists Morgan, as long as Bramwell is on this property, he's going to make trouble for me, I know it.
Smiling, Melanie tells Catherine, I know you're going to be very good for all of us here in this house. I hope so, says Catherine, I'm going to try. Melanie heads off to bed. Catherine continues unpacking, putting her things in the dresser. Morgan returns. A wife is not supposed to argue with her husband, says Catherine meekly--she is supposed to just accept (!?)--but I'm afraid I haven't learned how to do that. You will, predicts Morgan. I'm not so sure that's true, she says. You'll have to try, he says. He discovers on the mantel the letter from Bramwell she'd been reading. What's this? he demands, looking at the letter, becoming furious again. It's a letter from Bramwell, isn't it? he yells--isn't it? She looks terrified.
"'You have my heart,'" Morgan quotes from the letter, shaking. "It was written years ago!" she explodes. I don't believe you, he says. Look at the date, she says, reaching to take the letter from him. You are my wife (goodbye city life) he insists--why are you reading his letters? I was unpacking them, she says. You're lying! he cries. My maid put them there--I didn't know they were there! she protests. You brought them here? he asks. No, she put them there! says Catherine. You're lying--you're still in love with him, accuses Morgan. I married you, she reminds him. Give me his letters! insists Morgan. Morgan! she protests, horrified. All right, he says, going through her suitcase, I'll look for them myself. You have no right! exclaims Catherine. Oh yes I do! he says, you are my wife--you will never read these letters in this house again--EVER! He tosses all of Bramwell's letters into the fire. Catherine, upset, watches them burn. Do you forbid me never to think of him? she asks--am I not allowed to have a past?--even one that has ended?--are you Collinses born and bred in this house the only ones allowed a past?--it's wrong, Morgan, it's so wrong. Morgan relents, grabs her into his arms, and begs, "Oh, God, Love me, Catherine, love me as much as I love you--please love me!"
Melanie dreams: A grieving Flora asks, what did we do to deserve this?--God, how much must we go through?--do we have to go through this now?--when will the punishment end? Quentin stands in the doorway, Melanie's body in his arms. She's dead, he says.
I can't believe it, says Flora. She died in my arms, says Quentin. You shouldn't have gone into her room, says Flora. I had to, says Quentin, staring into Melanie's dead face--she was crying, I heard her. Take Melanie's body to the village and burn it, orders Flora--she had the plague!--she had the plague--she must be burned--it's not our fault--for everyone's sake, she must be burned...burned...burned! Melanie awakens, screaming. Quentin runs in and finds Melanie holding her head as if in agony. Burned, burned! she cries, I'm, burning, burning, don't touch me. Oh, God, the fever! says Quentin. Flora comes to the doorway. Stay out, Quentin orders. The plague! wails Melanie.
"The plague has come back!" Quentin tells his mother, horror-stricken.
NOTES: Catherine, I believe you have grounds for annulment--he is telling you he won't have sex with you, plus denying you children, which you want, and non-consummation is as good as any other reason to free yourself from such a pompous, cruel and insensitive clod. God, if this doesn't convince her, nothing else is going to. Catherine, you've had great sex with Bramwell--don't be a fool! You are not the type to "accept" what your husband wants, you have too much spunk for that. I bet Bramwell wants kids, too. Morgan had no right to destroy Bramwell's letters to Catherine; she has a right to a past, too, just as Morgan does. If Bramwell sent Catherine other romantic letters like that, how could she ever have gotten involved with Morgan, anyway? It just doesn't make sense to me.
So the plague has come to Collinwood, which means the family must hold the lottery. Who will win the privilege of going into the deadly room?
I thought Quentin said they were going to tell the police the truth about Stella. Sounds like they lied all the way home.
I feel sorry for Melanie, but she cries too much. I suppose she has reason, but it gets on my nerves after a while.
1211 - Flora comes downstairs and greets Julia, who has just returned to Collinwood--I've been looking all over the house for you, says Flora. I had to go to the village, which you knew, Julia reminds her--what's wrong, what's happened? It's Melanie, says Flora--she has the plague!
I didn't believe that was possible, says Julia. Don't you recall--it happened once before, a long time ago, says Flora, when they refused to hold the lottery. Yes, I remember, says Julia, and now it's happening again
--what could have brought it on? I'm afraid we brought it on ourselves, says Flora, we held a seance tonight--Quentin, Melanie and I--we tried to contact Brutus Collins--Melanie went into a trance and started muttering warnings about the plague--about an hour ago, she was stricken. Where is she now? asks Julia. In her room, says Flora--I sent Morgan for Dr. Fletcher--he's with her now, Quentin is, too. Quentin shouldn't be with her! exclaims Julia. He was the one who found her, says Flora, it's too late for him to take precautions. What will you do now? asks Julia. I want to hold a family meeting, says Flora--you go upstairs and tell everybody --I'll get Gabriel--he's in the study. The women separate to perform their respective tasks.
In her room, Catherine paces, nervously looking at her hands. Morgan comes in. Is there any word? asks Catherine. No, he says, the doctor is still with her and I can't go in. Poor Melanie, laments Catherine. She's been through so much already, agrees Morgan. Catherine sits on the bed--I can't understand or believe how suddenly it happened, she says--Melanie was perfectly all right just a few hours ago. Now maybe you'll believe how serious that curse is, says Morgan. You don't think Melanie's illness has anything to do with your curse, do you? asks Catherine skeptically. I know it does, says Morgan. When are the people in this house going to stop thinking all their misfortunes are the work of some evil spirit? wonders Catherine. I lived in this house all my life, says Morgan, and saw the things that happened--and it could only have happened because of that curse. Someone knocks at their door--Julia--Flora wants to see you in the drawing room immediately, she says. Morgan leaves. Catherine, probably wondering if she's made a big mistake, holds onto one of the bedposts.
Drawing room - Flora tries to calm a nervous Gabriel--sit down and try to relax, she urges. How can you relax at a time like this? he demands childishly. I said try, she reiterates--and don't resort to your usual means--are you carrying a flask? No, of course not, he says evasively. Give it to me, she orders. I just told you I...I said give it to me, commands his mother--I'll give it back to you after we're finished here. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a silver flask, and hands it to her. Melanie isn't going to die, is she, Mother? Gabriel asks. Flora places the flask on the armoire--we'll do everything we can to see to it that she doesn't, says Flora--that's why we are having this meeting. Julia, Catherine and Morgan enter. Quentin is still up in Melanie's room with the doctor and will be down in a moment, says Julia. Let's make ourselves as comfortable as we can, suggests Flora. Morgan and Catherine sit on the sofa, Julia in a chair; Gabriel stands behind another chair, holding onto it with one hand. Flora stands before the fireplace and explains, there is hardly any need for me to tell you that what has happened to Melanie can kill her--there is no normal way she can be saved from the plague. How can we be certain it is the plague? questions Catherine. Under the circumstances, says Flora, I don't see how it can be anything else. What if the doctor has another diagnosis? asks Catherine. My dear, says Flora, you are new here, there are certain things you don't see as we do--we know and believe time might be running out for us--and if Melanie has got the plague... From the doorway, Quentin announces, "There's no doubt about it--she does have the plague." Everyone is horrified. Then we will hold the lottery tonight, asserts Flora.
I take it there are no objections to the decision I have made, says Flora. I assume I now have a full voice in family affairs, says Catherine. Of course you have, says Flora. Then I vote this lottery should not be held--tonight or any other time in the future, states the bride. Flora surveys her solemnly--that's impossible, she says. Catherine stands and moves closer to her mother-in- law--we will never be free of the misery in this house if we give in to fear, insists Catherine. You don't seem to understand, says Flora--Melanie is upstairs dying. She will either be saved or not saved by the doctor, not anything we do here, says Catherine--her fate is not in our hands--the most we can do for her is pray. Catherine, says Quentin, you may believe as you wish, but if we were to take a vote on it here, you would lose, five to one. Catherine looks at Flora, who stares right back, silently agreeing with Quentin. The others say nothing. Very well, says Catherine, I see no point in continuing my argument. Quentin enters the room. Stop and stay right where you are, orders Gabriel--you shouldn't be close to us, you were exposed to the plague--you were with Melanie when... Will you stop talking like that? demands Quentin, advancing on Gabriel, who darts around and away from his brother. Stay away from me, I don't want to get it! shouts Gabriel. We're all going to get it! says Quentin, unless we go through with our little ceremony--why do you think Melanie got sick--it's a warning to all of us, don't you understand that? Is that true, Mother? asks Gabriel.
Yes, she says, it's just a matter of time for the rest of us. Why don't we get out of this house--burn it to the ground? asks Gabriel--leave it forever? Why do you insist on being a bad historian? Quentin asks him--you know perfectly well that one past family tried to do that--and the plague not only followed them, but caught most of them. Gabriel sits down. Our obligation is clear--we will hold the lottery--I will prepare the six slips, says Flora. Why six? asks Morgan. There are six of us in the room, aren't there? asks Flora. Mother, we have gone through this before, says Morgan. Then let's not go through it again, says Flora. I said only the men would participate in this, insists Morgan. I go along with Morgan, says Quentin. I am with Flora, says Julia, as Catherine listens closely--I see no reason why we shouldn't participate. I see several reasons why, says Quentin. We have precedent on our side, says Julia--until this generation, the women have always participated in the lottery. Precedent be damned, says Morgan. Julia the way you are talking, says Quentin, we might as well run upstairs, get Melanie and have her join in. I've already explained why Melanie will not participate under any circumstances, says Flora--having spent time in that locked room, if only briefly, it would not be fair to subject her again--now you will all leave the room while I prepare the slips. No, Mother, says Morgan--you're not going to get out of this this easily. You may be the eldest son, Flora says, but I am still mistress of this house. But we all have an equal voice, says Quentin, except for our dear brother over here, who seems to have lost his voice. Yes, Gabriel, agrees Morgan, why don't you say something?--your opinion would be most appreciated. He stands behind Gabriel's chair. Yes it would, agrees Quentin, moving nearer to Gabriel, we couldn't get you to shut up a minute ago. There's no point in bullying him, says Flora. We're only trying to find out where Gabriel stands, says Morgan. I think you've forgotten, says Gabriel, the one voice that has not yet been heard. If you want to know where I stand, Morgan, says Catherine--it's with the women--I feel we should ALL participate.
Morgan darts forward--Catherine, you can't be serious! he says. I am serious, she assures him. But you don't even believe in this, he says, you think the lottery is a waste of time. That's beside the point, says Catherine. Morgan, are you saying she shouldn't participate because she doesn't believe in the lottery? asks Gabriel. (conscientious objector) Will you be quiet? says Morgan, annoyed. You can both be quiet, says Flora--let Catherine explain. Thank you, says Catherine--whether or not I believe in the lottery doesn't really matter, does it--since you've all decided to take part?--I think it only fair that each of us should play his part as well. I don't and that's that, says Morgan. Mother...begins Quentin. Listen to me, all of you, commands Flora, we no longer have the luxury of time, and it's obvious bickering amongst ourselves isn't going to solve anything. Then let the men draw the lots, says Morgan. I have not finished yet, says Flora--there is only one fair way to settle this--to take a vote. What's the use of voting? asks Quentin--there are six of us here, it will be a tie. We will take care of that eventuality if and when we come to it, insists Flora--now a yes vote means the women participate, a no, they do not--Julia? I vote yes, says Julia. Catherine concurs. Morgan and Quentin say no. Gabriel? asks Flora. Gabriel is silent. Come on, speak up! orders Morgan. Everyone stares at Gabriel. Threateningly, Quentin says, "I want to hear you vote no." I vote yes, says Gabriel. Quentin runs over, grabs his brother by the lapels, hauls him from his chair and says, right in his face, "I swear to God--I'll put you in that room and throw the key away, brother!" Flora orders them to stop it--that's enough. Quentin shoves Gabriel back in his chair and gazes at him with contempt. It's settled, says Flora--we will all participate--I will prepare the slips and Julia will let you know when I'm ready. Quentin exits the drawing room, followed by Morgan and Catherine, arm in arm, then Julia. Gabriel rises from his seat and dejectedly leaves the room. Flora sits at the desk, takes out a piece of paper and scissors and cuts the lottery slips from a piece of purple paper. (Did they even have such colorful paper back in 1841?)
Gabriel rushes to the study to find one of his booze canisters hidden in the base of a clock. He drinks deeply. Morgan enters and says, "I'm gonna kill you with my bare hands." But you won't, Brother, says Gabriel, because that would only increase your wife's chances of going into the room, wouldn't it? But you decreased yours, says Morgan, grabbing the canister out of Gabriel's hand--come on, admit it!--is that the reason you jeopardized the lives of three women--to save your own skin? Believe what you like, says Gabriel, it makes no difference to me. Mother is still the best politician in this house, says Morgan. What's that supposed to mean? asks Gabriel. Because she out-maneuvered Quentin and me, says Morgan--she saw the writing on the wall--she knew you'd vote yes--she knew she had this whole thing sewn up--listen to me--if I could rig this lottery, I would see to it that you would get the losing slip. I know why you're so worked up, says Gabriel--you voted no to save your own wife's skin! I have always been against women participating in this, says Morgan. That's what you say now, accuses Gabriel, but this has never been brought to a vote before--now if it was just Julia and Mother, and not your wife, you'd have voted yes! That's a lie! yells Morgan. Well, says Gabriel, snatching back his canister, we'll never know, will we?--never know--he drinks--now why don't you just trot upstairs to your beloved wife?--this might just be the last night you two spend together. You have got to be the most disgusting person I know, declares Morgan, and leaves the room. Gabriel drinks.
Having prepared six slips, Flora takes a feather pen and writes an X on one.
Catherine waits in her room for Morgan. When he joins her, she kisses him. He sits on the bed with her--we're going to be going downstairs again soon, he says--there's something I want to tell you. What is it, darling? she asks. If you pick the losing slip, he says, I must insist you let me take your place in that room.
Morgan, that's out of the question, objects Catherine. I must insist upon taking your place, Morgan repeats. You miss the whole point of what happened downstairs, she points out. I will not have your life jeopardized by a coward brother, he says. There's no point in even discussing this now, she says, let's wait and see what happens. Catherine, he says tenderly, no matter what happens, I want you to know I love you very much. I love you, too, she assures him. They kiss.
Study - Gabriel has run out of booze and is frantically searching for more. He finds a flask in the top desk drawer. Quentin enters. What a sight, he says of Morgan. Go on, Morgan's already had his say, says Gabriel. You know something? asks Quentin--if a historian ever compiles a list of losers, you'll stand as a monument. He claps Gabriel on the shoulder. Aren't we witty for someone who may die? says Gabriel. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die, right? asks Quentin, gazing into the fire. How philosophical of you, says Gabriel. Quentin settles into a chair and says, "At least I won't be afraid--like you--I won't be cringing, seeking to find a refuge where there is no refuge--look what it's done for me, huh?" I've heard this sermon so many times before, complains Gabriel, I can't hear it again. I'm curious about something, says Quentin, and I really want to know the answer, because I don't know--I want to know how you're going to feel when Mother chooses the losing slip in the lottery--when Mother goes into that room and goes mad, or dies--and I want to know how you feel deep, way inside, when you know that your vote put her into that room--tell me, how do you feel? Clutching his flask, Gabriel says, I don't believe she will get the losing slip. That's not an answer, says Quentin through gritted teeth, standing to face his brother. I believed all along it would be me, says Gabriel.
Then why did you vote yes? demands Quentin, furious. I don't know, and I don't want to talk about it, cries Gabriel. Dear God, I should know better than to try to get an answer out of you, shouldn't I? asks Quentin, sitting back down. Remember something I asked you once? recalls Gabriel--you never did give me an answer. I remember, says Quentin. You're completely wrong about me, says Gabriel, if I get chosen--if I choose the losing slip--I'm going to do my duty. "If you choose the losing slip, we're going to have to drag you into that room," predicts Quentin. I swear to you, promises Gabriel, if I go into that room, I'm going to go mad--I'd just rather die than end up like Father did. On second thought, says Quentin, I don't know whether I want you to go into that room or not, because knowing you, you'll strike up a bargain with whoever or whatever is in that room and sell us all down the river. Promise to kill me if I go insane--please! begs Gabriel. Based on your vote today, says Quentin, it will be my pleasure. The door opens; Julia comes in--Flora is ready, she says. Well, says Quentin, rising, clapping Gabriel on the shoulder, buck up, old boy, the time is here. Gabriel takes another gulp from his flask and follows Quentin out.
Drawing room - Flora, Catherine and Morgan wait, staring at the blue vase into which all the slips have been placed. Quentin pushes Gabriel into the room and everyone is present. Julia follows them in. "I have prepared the slips and put them in the vase," says Flora--we will each draw a slip from the vase--five of them are blank, and one is marked with an X--whoever draws the slip with the X goes into the room--now, who will begin? Morgan and Catherine look at each other.
Everyone gazes at Gabriel. No one seems to want to go first, but finally, Quentin says, "I'll begin." He pulls a slip from the vase. Julia is next, then Catherine, then Flora, then the others. . .
NOTES: Who will get the losing slip? Who will be voted off the island? Sorry, that's another show. It was fascinating to watch the family interaction today--Gabriel's alcoholic cowardice; Catherine's cynicism about the curse, but willingness to participate in this dubious family function; Quentin's and Morgan's macho bravery and insistence that women not participate, and the contempt they have for their youngest sibling. It's fun to watch, and kind of reminds me of the quibbling siblings in 1897.
Flora is much more somber here than in 1840, but she has good reason. It's hard to be a silly novelist when you have one son who goes to prison for 7 years, another who is an alcoholic and a third who has married a woman with a long past with another man.
Of course, since I've seen this storyline many times before, I already know who is chosen, but I won't tell.
Love, Robin
