The Crystal Spider

text The Crystal Spider Madame Rachilde Translated by Daniel Gerould To Jules Renard First Performance: The&tre de I'Oeuvre at the Bouffes-du-Nord on February 13, 1894. Mother: B. Bady Terror-Stricken: Lugne-Poe First Publication: Mercure de France, June, 1892, pp. 147-55. Reprinted in Le D6mon de l'Absurde (Paris: Mercure de France, 1894), pp. 13-31. A large drawing room, one of whose three windows opens on a terrace filled with honeysuckle. Very bright summer night. The moon illuminates the entire portion of the stage where the characters are found. The back of the stage remains engulfed in darkness. One gets a glimpse of furniture with heavy, old-fashioned shapes. In the midst of this demi-obscurity, a high psyche mirror in the empire style, supported on each side by slender swan -neckswith brass beaks. A faint reflection of light on the mirror, but, seen from the lighted terrace, this reflection seems not to come from the moon, but rather appears to emanate from the psyche itself, as a light that could be intrinsic to it. NOTE: A psyche, or cheval glass, is a mirror mounted so as to swing in a frame, and large enough to reflect the whole figure. 123 Mother: 45 years old, bright eyes, tender mouth; she has a young face beneath gray hair. She wears an elegant black house dress and a white lace mantilla. Sensual voice. Terror-Stricken: 20 years old. He is thin, almost wispy in his casual outfit made of pure white poplin. His face is ashen, his eyes have a vacant expression . His straight black hair glistens on his brow. He has regular features recalling his mother's beauty, much the way a dead man resembles his own portrait. Voice dull and indolent. The two characters are seated in front of the open door. MOTHER: Come on, little boy, tell me what you're thinking of? TERROR-STRICKEN: But ... nothing, mother. MOTHER: (Stretching out in her armchair.) What a fragrance, that honeysuckle! Do you smell it? It makes you tipsy. You could call it one of those refined liqueurs for the lady ... (She licks her lips.) TERROR-STRICKEN: A liqueur, that honeysuckle? Ah! ... Yes, mother. MOTHER: You're not cold, I hope, in weather like this? And you don't have a headache, do you? TERROR-STRICKEN: No, thank you, mother. MOTHER: Thank you for what? (She leans over and regards him closely.) My poor little Sylvius! Now admit it, it is not amusing to keep an old woman company. (Inhaling the breeze.) What a mild night! There is no need to have the lamps brought in, is there? I told Frangois that he could go for a walk and I wager he's carrying on with the maids. We shall stay here until the moon starts down ... (A moment of silence. She begins again in a serious tone.) Sylvius, it is no use denying it, you are unsuccessful in love. The longer you go on like this, the thinner you get ... TERROR-STRICKEN: I have already assured you, mother, that I have never loved anyone but you! MOTHER: (Touched.) What foolishness! Look here, if she is a princely maiden , we could afford to treat ourselves to her, now couldn't we! And if she is a scullery maid, just as long as you don't marry her ... TERROR-STRICKEN: Mother, your teasing drives needles through my eardrum . MOTHER: And if you've run into debt, into serious debt, well, what of it? You know I can pay it off. TERROR-STRICKEN: That debt again! But I have more money now than I know how to spend. MOTHER: (Lowering her voice and drawing her chair closer.) Now then you won't get angry, will you? Why, to be sure! You men have secrets that are more shameful than wicked passions or debts .. . I have made up my mind to take charge of everything ... Do you understand what I mean? If my own flesh and blood took sick ... well, then, (Delicately.) we would look after our health until we were cured ... TERROR-STRICKEN: (With a gesture of disgust.) My mother has gone mad. MOTHER: (Carried away.) Yes, I am...