Feydeau A Flea in Her Ear

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-1-78001-423-4
Verlag: Nick Hern Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Band 0, 170 Seiten

Reihe: NHB Drama Classi

Drama Classics: The World's Great Plays at a Great Little Price A classic French farce of infidelity and mistaken identity. A suspicious wife sets a trap to expose her supposedly faithless husband. The husband however bears an uncanny resemblance to a drunken porter, and when circumstances bring the two into proximity in the seedy Hotel Casablanca, all hell breaks loose. Georges Feydeau's play A Flea in Her Ear (La puce à l'oreille) was first performed at the Théâtre des Nouveautés in Paris in March 1907. This English translation by Kenneth McLeish is published in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, with an introduction by Stephen Mulrine.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Feydeau, Georges

Weitere Mitwirkende

Mcleish, Kenneth

Leseproben

Act One

CHANDEBISE’s elegantly-furnished drawing room. Rear C, wide bay with double door to the hall outside (which we imagine leads to the front door of the apartment and the main stairwell of the building). Right and left of this, single doors to other parts of the apartment. Downstage left, window; downstage right, door. Fireplace, sofa, chairs, table and chairs, writing-desk. In the hall (visible when the main doors are open): table with telephone. As the curtain rises, CAMILLE is standing by the writing-desk, reading a document which he has taken from one of the drawers. After a moment, ANTOINETTE creeps in, tiptoes up behind him, takes his head in her hands from behind and gives him a quick kiss.

CAMILLE (startled). For Heaven’s sake! [We hear ‘O-E-E-AKE’. He will speak like this, vowels only, throughout this Act.]

ANTOINETTE. It’s all right, they’re out.

CAMILLE. I see.

ANTOINETTE. Come on, then. Come on!

CAMILLE looks at her for a moment, then gives her a long kiss. As if on cue, enter ÉTIENNE, ushering in FINACHE.

ÉTIENNE. This way, Doctor.

ANTOINETTE and CAMILLE. Oh!

They spring apart. CAMILLE bolts out right. ANTOINETTE leaps left.

ÉTIENNE. What are you doing here?

ANTOINETTE. Me? Dinner. Dinner-menu.

ÉTIENNE. They’ve gone out. You know they’ve gone out. Get back to the kitchen. No cooks in the drawing room.

ANTOINETTE. But it’s –

ÉTIENNE. Hup, hup, hup!

Exit ANTOINETTE. FINACHE sits.

FINACHE. You’re very firm with her.

ÉTIENNE. All husbands should be. If you don’t wear the trousers, they do. I’m not having that.

FINACHE. Bravo.

ÉTIENNE. She’s a tigress, doctor. Loyal  . . . but jealous. A tigress. Creeps about the house, spies on me. It’s incredible.

FINACHE. Incredible.

ÉTIENNE. I am in charge.

FINACHE. Of course. (Rising.) Well, if Monsieur isn’t here  . . .

ÉTIENNE. That’s all right. I’m here. I’ll talk to you.

FINACHE. How thoughtful. But I’d hate to –

ÉTIENNE. I’ve nothing else to do.

FINACHE. Oh, in that case  . . . You don’t know when he’ll be back, Monsieur?

ÉTIENNE. Twenty minutes, at least.

FINACHE. H’m.

He takes his hat from the table and puts it on. Goes upstage.

Well, look, I’d love to stay, but –

ÉTIENNE. Oh, Monsieur  . . .

FINACHE. No, no. We must be disciplined. I’ve a patient down the road. I can just polish him off.

ÉTIENNE (scandalised). Monsieur!

FINACHE. Good grief, I don’t mean that. I hang on to my patients. Bread and butter. I mean, I’ll see him and be back in twenty minutes.

ÉTIENNE. That’s quite all right  . . .

FINACHE. How kind.

False exit.

That reminds me. If Monsieur comes back before I do  . . .

He takes out a note.

 . . . please give him this. Tell him I’ve examined the client, he’s in perfect health and he’s an excellent risk.

ÉTIENNE (unconcerned). Fine.

FINACHE (playing to him). I know what you mean.

ÉTIENNE (shrugging). Comme ci comme ça.

FINACHE. Exactly. But business is business. Boston Life Assurance, Paris Branch, Paris and District, he had to know, your employer.

ÉTIENNE (familiarly). The boss, I know.

FINACHE. Ahem.

ÉTIENNE. Oh, excuse me.

FINACHE. No, no. It’s up to you. Tell him his  . . . matador’s in tiptop shape. What’s the fellow’s name? Don Carlos Homénidès de Histangua.

ÉTIENNE. Histangua. I knew I’d heard it before. His wife’s in there, in the dining room. She called to see Madame.

FINACHE. What a small world! This morning I examine the husband, this afternoon his wife’s in the dining room.

ÉTIENNE. Yesterday they were both in there. Having dinner.

FINACHE. There you are, then.

ÉTIENNE sits.

ÉTIENNE. By the way, Doctor –

FINACHE. Don’t mind me.

ÉTIENNE. That’s all right. The thing is, I was saying to my dear lady just this morning –

FINACHE. Madame Chandebise  . . . ?

ÉTIENNE. No, no. My wife.

FINACHE. Your better half.

ÉTIENNE. Tut.

FINACHE. Sorry.

ÉTIENNE. The thing is, if one has  . . . Do sit down.

FINACHE. Sorry.

He sits.

ÉTIENNE. What I mean is, if someone has  . . . pains  . . . recurring pains, you know  . . . here, and here  . . .

FINACHE (leaning forward in his chair). Aha. It might be  . . . how can I put this?  . . . ovaries.

ÉTIENNE. Ovaries. That’s what I’ve got, then. Ovaries.

FINACHE. They ought to come out.

ÉTIENNE (jumping up). Oh, no. They’re mine and I’m keeping them.

FINACHE. I don’t want them.

ÉTIENNE. You could have fooled me.

Enter LUCIENNE.

LUCIENNE. Étienne  . . .

She sees FINACHE.

Oh, excuse me. (To ÉTIENNE.) You did say Madame was coming back?

ÉTIENNE. Yes, Madame. She told me: ‘If Señora  . . . señora  . . . uh  . . . ’

LUCIENNE. Homénidès de Histangua –

ÉTIENNE. That’s right. ‘Comes round – ’

FINACHE. ‘Comes visiting’  . . .

ÉTIENNE. Thankyou. (To LUCIENNE.) ‘Don’t let her go. I have to see her.’

LUCIENNE. She said the same in her note. So why isn’t she  . . . ? Never mind, I’ll wait a little longer.

ÉTIENNE. Thankyou, Madame. We were just saying, Monsieur and I  . . .

FINACHE. Monsieur  . . .

ÉTIENNE (introducing him). Doctor Finache. Consultant in chief to the Boston Assurance Company. He was telling me, he saw Madame’s husband just this morning.

LUCIENNE. Did he really?

FINACHE. I did indeed, Madame. I examined him in person.

LUCIENNE. Whatever for?

FINACHE. Insurance. A formality. Madame, I congratulate you. What a husband! What a figure! What physique!

LUCIENNE. Thank you, Monsieur.

FINACHE. It’s a privilege, a husband like that.

LUCIENNE. It’s exhausting.

FINACHE. A small price –

ÉTIENNE (with a sigh). That’s what Madame Plucheux keeps saying.

LUCIENNE. Madame Plucheux?

ÉTIENNE. My wife. My  . . . better half. What she could do with a husband like Madame’s husband here  . . .

FINACHE. Nothing easier. If Madame agrees, if Señor de Histangua agrees  . . .

ÉTIENNE. Steady on.

LUCIENNE (playing along). No, no, Doctor, no, no, no

FINACHE (laughing). I’m sorry, Madame. It’s Étienne here, my good friend Étienne. I don’t know what I’m saying.

He fetches his hat.

I really must go, if I’m to be back in twenty minutes. Delighted to meet you.

LUCIENNE. Charmed.

FINACHE. Of course.

He starts to go. ÉTIENNE accompanies him.

ÉTIENNE. What we were saying earlier, Doctor. If I bend like this  . . . my ovaries  . . .

FINACHE. Senna pods, my dear fellow. Senna pods. That’ll calm ’em.

Exeunt.

LUCIENNE. What a man. (Looking at her watch.) Ten past one. ‘I have to see you’ – this can’t be what she meant. Oh  . . .

She sits and flicks through a magazine. Enter CAMILLE, on his way to return the paper to the writing desk.

CAMILLE. Oh! Excuse me.

LUCIENNE. Monsieur.

CAMILLE. Are you wanting the Director of the Boston Assurance Company?

LUCIENNE (not with him). I’m sorry?

CAMILLE. I said: are you wanting the Director of the Boston Assurance company?

LUCIENNE. I’m sorry: I just don’t follow.

CAMILLE (even more carefully). I just asked, are you wanting the –

LUCIENNE. No, no. French. Française. Französich.

CAMILLE. Me too. Me too.

LUCIENNE. You’ll have to ask Étienne. I’m waiting for Madame Chandebise.

CAMILLE. Oh. Sorry.

He retreats towards the writing-desk.

I...