Out of the Wings

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Divinas palabras (1918-1920), Ramón María del Valle-Inclán

Divine Words (1997), translated by Maria Delgado

DAY ONE Scene Five

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 25-7
Context:
The local mayor, Bastián de Candás, helps resolve the argument over the custody of Laureano.
Sample text
BASTIÁN DE CANDÁS:

Let’s suppose for a moment that you both own a mill. One of you takes charge from Monday to Wednesday and the other from Thursday to Saturday. On Sunday you alternate.

ROSA LA TATULA:

That would put an end to the problem.

MARICA DEL REINO:

Well brother, what do you think?

PEDRO GAILO:

Our honourable neighbour has given us some worthy advice. The decision rests with us whether to take it or leave it. I’ve made my opinion clear, it’s now up to you.

MARICA DEL REINO:

I’ll go along with your decision, brother.

MARI-GAILA:

A crafty response if ever I heard one.

MARICA DEL REINO:

I don’t see anything crafty about it.

BASTIÁN DE CANDÁS:

I’m not sure if I catch your drift, Marica del Reino. Are you saying that you’ll go along with whatever your brother decides?

MARICA DEL REINO:

Yes!

BASTIÁN DE CANDÁS:

What do you say, Pedro?

MARI-GAILA:

He’ll agree to anything!

BASTIÁN DE CANDÁS:

Well then, we’ll leave it at that

MARICA DEL REINO:

So for three days then I’ll take care of the cart, the next three days it goes to my sister-in-law.

BASTIÁN DE CANDÁS:

Sundays will remain undivided.

ROSA LA TATULA:

All arranged without legal hassles.

MARI-GAILA:

This calls for a celebration drink. Husband, go and find the brandy.

PEDRO GAILO:

There’s a bottle right there, beside the deceased.

MARI-GAILA:

And we mustn’t forget to give a sip to our crippled friend.

BASTIÁN DE CANDÁS:

I wonder if he’s tasted it before?

MARI-GAILA:

Tasted it! He can’t get enough. It’s in his blood.

ROSA LA TATULA:

All that trekking, day after day, in all weathers … He would have died without it.

MARI-GAILA:

Do you want a swig, Laureano?

ROSA LA TATULA:

Just show him the bottle, he’ll soon understand what you mean.

(MARI-GAILA, captivating and elegant, glides over to the deceased. She fills a glass to the brim and relishes the aroma of the brandy.)
MARI-GAILA:

Bastián, you take the first swig. After all, you settled the problem.

BASTIÁN DE CANDÁS:

Well, cheers everyone.

MARI-GAILA:

And after you comes the idiot. Come on, take a sip, Laureano.

ROSA LA TATULA:

Don’t give it to him until he lets out one of his thunderclaps. He can do it really well if he tries!

MARI-GAILA:

Quickly, over here! Just look at the way he’s poking his tongue out!

THE IDIOT:

Ugh! Ugh! Here, give, here.

MARI-GAILA:

Who’s giving what?

THE IDIOT:

No! No! No!

MARI-GAILA:

What is it, Laureano?

THE IDIOT:

Here! Here!

MARI-GAILA:

Now, what do you say?

THE IDIOT:

Shit! Here! Here!

MARICA DEL REINO:

Just give him a drink and stop all this disgusting business.

MARI-GAILA:

No fart, no drink!

THE IDIOT:

Miau! Fu! Miau!

MARI-GAILA:

No stupid, that’s a cat!

ROSA LA TATULA:

Laureano, give us one of your very own rocket blasts and we’ll give you a drink!

MARICA DEL REINO:

How can you encourage him like that?

(THE IDIOT farts.)
BASTIÁN DE CANDÁS:

He’s earned his swig!

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Divine Words (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

DAY TWO Scene Three

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 39-40
Context:
Mari-Gaila has joined a group of itinerants at the fair in Viana. She is proving popular with the fairgoers, including The Blind Man of Gondar. Séptimo Miau (here calling himself COMRADE MIAU) is also captivated by Mari-Gaila, and manages to get her to agree to meet him later in private.
Sample text

(THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR emerges from the inn. His hat is at an angle and he has a large glass of wine in his hand. His laughter appears prompted by good food and good wine.)

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

Mari-Gaila, come and have a drink.

MARI-GAILA:

My pleasure.

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

It’ll clear your throat. I heard you singing from inside.

(MARI-GAILA wipes her mouth with a corner of her headscarf and takes the overflowing red glass from the hands of the sharp old man. She drinks, gurgling the wine in her throat.)
MARI-GAILA:

Nectar!

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

Wine from Condado is the best money can buy!

MARI-GAILA:

Just the thing for this heat.

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

Care to try a drop of white wine now? It’s from Amandi and tastes like strawberries!

MARI-GAILA:

You certainly know how to live!

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

Well, if you want some, come in with me.

MARI-GAILA:

What if I get a little drunk?

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

We’ll climb into some loft and sleep it off?

MARI-GAILA:

You’re at it again! Why haven’t you got some young girl with you?

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

Young girls are useless. A blind man needs a woman he can enjoy.

COMRADE MIAU:

Surely the opposite is true! A blind man can’t appreciate beauty. He’d be better off with some firm flesh that won’t slip between his fingers.

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

How firm is your flesh, Mari-Gaila?

THE INNKEEPER:

Flesh sags once you’ve given birth.

MARI-GAILA:

It all depends on the woman. I was in better shape after giving birth than I’d ever been before.

THE BLIND MAN OF GONDAR:

Well, let’s take a look at you now.

MARI-GAILA:

If you want me to go inside with you, you’d better keep your hands to yourself.

COMRADE MIAU:

If you leave, you’ll not be able to make the comparison!

MARI-GAILA:

I trust you’re referring to the eye patch.

COMRADE MIAU:

What else could it be?

MARI-GAILA:

I’ll see you later.

COMRADE MIAU:

Will you wait at the inn?

MARI-GAILA:

I’ll wait with our mutual friend, but not for too long.

(MARI-GAILA slaps the old man on the back and goes into the inn, dragging the cart behind her. As she is entering the door, she turns and winks to those remaining outside.)
COMRADE MIAU:

What a wit! That woman’s wasted around here.

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Divine Words (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

DAY TWO Scene Five

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 46-7
Context:
Séptimo Miau and Mari-Gaila meet secretly on the beach. Although Mari-Gaila is initially resistant, fuelled by wine she eventually gives in to Séptimo Miau’s charms.
Sample text
SÉPTIMO MIAU:

Ticklish, aren’t we?

MARI-GAILA:

Yes. Keep still! Someone’s coming!

SÉPTIMO MIAU:

No one’s coming.

MARI-GAILA:

You can’t be sure of that. You’ve got the cheek of the Devil!

SÉPTIMO MIAU:

Let’s get into the sentry box.

MARI-GAILA:

Don’t you ever give up!

(SÉPTIMO MIAU gently pushes the woman towards the sentry box. She reacts in a mischievously amorous manner; teasing him playfully while leaning her head against his chest. The colourful fireworks explode above the water. Evening church bells begin tolling. The magnificent light of the fireworks illuminates the church tower. MARI-GAILA kneels at the door of the sentry box to pick up a card which is lying on the sand.)
MARI-GAILA:

The seven of spades! What does that mean?

SÉPTIMO MIAU:

As compensation for seven misfortunes you will sleep with Séptimo tonight.

MARI-GAILA:

And if I sleep with Séptimo Miau all week?

SÉPTIMO MIAU:

How about forever.

MARI-GAILA:

Who do you think you are? God?

SÉPTIMO MIAU:

I don’t think I’ve ever met him.

(MARI-GAILA stops resisting and enters the sentry box. Merry with wine she closes her eyes; her gentle, breathy laughter offering SÉPTIMO MIAU the encouragement to take her in his arms. She murmurs contentedly.)
Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Divine Words (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

DAY TWO Scene Seven

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 54-6
Context:
While Mari-Gaila and Séptimo Miau make love in the sentry box, Laureano is left in the care of Rosa la Tatula. She has taken him to Ludovina’s inn, where Miguelín and others make fun of him. Miguelín forces so much alcohol on the dwarf that he dies, horribly.
Sample text
ROSA LA TATULA:

Buy him another drink and watch. With two drinks there’s no stopping him. Laureano, croak like a frog.

THE IDIOT:

Cua! Cua!

MIGUELÍN:

Do you want another drink, Laureano?

LAUREANO:

Hou! Hou!

MIGUELÍN:

Give him another, Ludovina.

LUDOVINA:

That’s three you owe for.

MIGUELÍN:

The army will pay.

LUDOVINA:

Long live the army!

(MIGUELÍN smiles sarcastically. He licks the mole at the corner of his mouth and forces the idiot to drink. Sitting up in the straw, LAUREANO licks his lips and rolls his eyes. His epileptic cries echo around the chimney cover.)
THE IDIOT:

Hou! Hou!

MIGUELÍN:

Drink up, Napoleon Bonaparte.

THE SOLDIER:

Give him a moustache like the Kaiser.

MIGUELÍN:

I’ll shave him a crown.

ROSA LA TATULA:

What sinful ideas.

(Beside the fireplace, an OLD PEASANT COUPLE and a pale LITTLE GIRL in a purple robe are eating an evening meal of fresh buns, wine and cherries wrapped in a handkerchief. The dream-like child looks like a wax doll sitting between the old couple who give the impression of having stepped out of an altar engraving; their wrinkled honey and ochre coloured faces resemble those of shepherds in a nativity scene. The idiot’s cry brings a smile to the little girl’s sad face.)
THE LITTLE GIRL:

Would you like some bread, little Laureano? Or would you prefer a bun?

THE IDIOT:

Shit!

ROSA LA TATULA:

Just look at the way he’s looking at the girl. What a devil!

(THE IDIOT stares blankly ahead and madly waves his hands in an epileptic frenzy. THE LITTLE GIRL leaves some buns and cherries in the cart and then happily rejoins her parents. Her purple robe and wax-like hands give her the appearance of a martyred virgin between the two altar-piece figures.)
THE MOTHER:

Ludovina, don’t let them give him that much to drink. It could kill him!

ROSA LA TATULA:

Well I never!

(THE IDIOT is breathing with increasing difficulty. His eyes are rolled back and his tongue hangs out from between his blue lips. The enormous head – glutinous, sallow and dishevelled – rolls around the cart as if decapitated. MIGUELÍN EL PADRONÉS stretches his tongue out towards his mole and wets it with saliva. Other shadows lean over the cart.)
LUDOVINA:

Don’t crowd him.

MIGUELÍN:

If you stick his head in the well, he’ll come ‘round soon enough.

LUDOVINA:

Tatula, take him outside. I don’t want any trouble around here.

(LAUREANO’s mouth remains contorted as he begins to rip the bedding in the cart, his hands shaking frantically. THE LITTLE GIRL and her PARENTS maintain a Christian sense of decorum, remaining in their positions beside the fireplace.)
THE FATHER:

This would never have happened if his mother had been alive. She knew how to handle him. There was none of this brandy business with her around …

LUDOVINA:

Get that cart out of here, Tatula.

MIGUELÍN:

Throw him in the well for a second or two, it’s nothing serious.

THE SOLDIER:

Nothing more serious than death!

LUDOVINA:

Get out! I don’t want that cart under my roof any longer!

ROSA LA TATULA:

He may not be dying!

LUDOVINA:

I’ve got my reputation to think of and you’re putting it in jeopardy, poofter!

MIGUELÍN:

I see. I pay for the drinks so I get all the blame.

(THE IDIOT stops shaking. His tiny, dark, waxen hands are locked together above the patched blanket, and his bluish head, with glazed eyes and tongue hanging out, appears decapitated. The flies swarming around the cattle have already gathered around the corpse.)
Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Divine Words (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

DAY THREE Scene Four

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 85-6
Context:
Séptimo Miau and Mari-Gaila have been caught making love in a field. A crowd of farmhands, excited by Mari-Gaila’s semi-nakedness, chase her. She was almost raped by the ruddy giant farmer, Milón, but eventually satisfies the baying mob by stripping naked and dancing for them.
Sample text

(MARI-GAILA runs from the giant’s arms. Her hair is now wild and dishevelled and her breasts are uncovered. THE SCREAMING CHORUS OF VOICES rises to a fevered pitch.)

A VOICE:

She’s getting away!

ANOTHER VOICE:

Stop her!

THE CHORUS OF VOICES:

After her! After her!

QUINTÍN PINTADO:

Leave her to me!

(QUINTÍN PINTADO sends his greyhound after the fugitive as he prepares to shoot from his sling. Surrounded by what sounds like an army of wooden clogs, MARI-GAILA stops.)
MARI-GAILA:

You evil souls! Bastards from Hell!

QUINTÍN PINTADO:

You’re going to dance in your petticoats! Show off your body!

MARI-GAILA:

Don’t come near me, Caiaphas!

QUINTÍN PINTADO:

We want to see a few of your hidden talents!

A SCREAMING CHORUS:

Jujurujú!

MARI-GAILA:

Ignorant pigs! Perverts from Hell! If I miscarry because of you, I’ll make sure you’re all locked away!

A VOICE:

We’re not stupid enough to fall for a trick like that!

ANOTHER VOICE:

Dance in your petticoats!

QUINTÍN PINTADO:

Show us that body of yours!

MARI-GAILA:

Is that what you really want, you bastards? I’ll dance in my petticoats and I’ll dance naked!

A SCREAMING CHORUS:

Jujurujú!

MARI-GAILA:

But don’t even think of laying a finger on me! You can stare until your eyes fall out but I won’t have anyone touch me!

A SCREAMING CHORUS:

Jujurujú!

(MARI-GAILA rips open her bodice. Still trembling, she steps out of her loose petticoats. A trickle of blood runs down her shoulder. Although sullen and resigned, MARI-GAILA displays her naked whiteness to the golden river with majestic grace and elegance.)
MARI-GAILA:

Satisfied now!

A SCREAMING CHORUS:

Jujurujú!

A VOICE:

Lift her onto Milón’s cart.

OTHER VOICES:

Onto the cart!

QUINTÍN PINTADO:

Let her dance on her throne!

A SCREAMING CHORUS:

Jujurujú!

(The cart, a fragrant mountain of hay led by two golden oxen and the ruddy brutish giant, rolls along the riverbank like the triumphant chariot of the Bacchae.)
Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Divine Words (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

Entry written by Gwynneth Dowling. Last updated on 6 October 2010.

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