Labiche An Italian Straw Hat

Full Text and Introduction (NHB Drama Classics)
1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-1-78001-643-6
Verlag: Nick Hern Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Band 0, 127 Seiten

Reihe: NHB Drama Classi

Drama Classics: The World's Great Plays at a Great Little Price A classic 19th-century French farce by Eugène Labiche. Fadinard is on the way to his wedding when his horse eats a straw hat hanging on a bush. The owner of the hat is a former girlfriend who insists that Fadinard buys her a new hat instantly. He sets off to find a replacement hat, followed by his fiancée and all their guests. The play develops into a delirious chase as Fadinard hunts the hat and the guests hunt Fadinard and comic misunderstandings litter every scene. Eugène Labiche's play An Italian Straw Hat was premiered at the Théâtre du Palais-Royal in Paris in 1851. This English version, in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, is translated and introduced by Kenneth McLeish.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Labiche, Eugène

Weitere Mitwirkende

Mcleish, Kenneth

Leseproben

ACT ONE

FADINARD’s drawing-room. Main double door, centre. Subsidiary doors, left and right. Enter VIRGINIE and FÉLIX. FÉLIX is trying to kiss her.

VIRGINIE. No, Félix. I haven’t time.

FÉLIX. Just one kiss.

VIRGINIE. Not now.

FÉLIX. We come from the same village.

VIRGINIE. I’ve to kiss everyone who comes from our village?

FÉLIX. It’s not all that big . . .

VIRGINIE. You told me your boss was getting married this morning. Monsieur Fadinard. ‘Come and see the presents,’ you said. Well, show me the presents.

FÉLIX. There’s no hurry. His Nibs went out of town yesterday. To his pa-in-law’s. To sign some document. He won’t be here till eleven o’clock. They’ll all be here. To go to the Town Hall.

VIRGINIE. What’s the bride like?

FÉLIX. Nothing to write home about. But quite a catch. Her father’s a market gardener. Nonancourt.

VIRGINIE. Félix . . . if she’s looking for a maid, a personal maid . . . mention my name.

FÉLIX. You don’t like it where you are? Working for Monsieur Beauperthuis?

VIRGINIE. Monsieur Beauperthuis. That crab, that weasel, that . . . warthog. Not to mention his wife. She’s a . . . No, I mustn’t.

FÉLIX. Quite right.

VIRGINIE. She’s a . . . She’s always on the . . . Always got a. . .

FÉLIX. She hasn’t.

VIRGINIE. She has. Every time Monsieur Beauperthuis goes out – poof! She’s off as well. And where to? Who with? You may well ask.

FÉLIX. You can’t possibly stay on in a house like that.

VIRGINIE (shyly). Besides, it would be nice to work in the same house as someone else from our village.

FÉLIX (taking her in his arms). Same county, anyway.

Enter VÉZINET, carrying a wedding present.

VÉZINET. It’s all right, it’s only me. Uncle Vézinet. Have we started?

FÉLIX (smiling at him). Not yet, grandad.

VIRGINIE. Félix!

FÉLIX. It’s all right. He’s as deaf as a post. Watch. (To VÉZINET, in baby talk.) Going to the wedding, then, are we? Going to enjoy ourselves? Won’t that be nice? (Offering him a seat.) Time for beddy-byes.

VÉZINET. Just what I always say. I thought at first we were meeting at the Town Hall, so I went to the Town Hall. They said we were meeting here, so I came here.

FÉLIX. Well, it is Thursday.

VÉZINET. Not now, thanks. I went before I came. (To VIRGINIE.) Put this with the others, would you, my dear? Careful. It’s fragile.

VIRGINIE (aside). I’ll have a good look while I’m in there. (Sweetly to him.) Bye-bye, sweetie-pie.

Exit right.

VÉZINET. What a charming child. Heh, heh, if I was five years younger . . .

FÉLIX (smiling). Dirty old man. You’re past it, grandad.

VÉZINET. Just what I always say. (Aside.) What a bright young man.

Enter FADINARD, talking to someone offstage.

FADINARD. Unharness him and rub him down, would you? (Onstage.) What a business! Cost me two francs, but it was worth every penny. Ah, Félix.

FÉLIX. Monsieur Fadinard.

FADINARD. You’ll never believe this, but –

FÉLIX. Where’s everyone else, Monsieur? The wedding party?

FADINARD. Still in Charentonneau, getting into their cabs. Eight cabs. I hurried on ahead, to see that everything’s in order. Are all the presents here?

FÉLIX. Yes, Monsieur. (Pointing right.) In there.

FADINARD. Splendid. You’ll never believe this, but when I left Charentonneau, at eight this morning . . .

VÉZINET (aside). That’s my nephew. He never notices anything.

FADINARD. Uncle Vézinet! (To FÉLIX.) You go. I’ll tell him instead. (To VÉZINET, as FÉLIX goes.) You’ll never believe this, but when I left Charentonneau, at eight this morning . . .

VÉZINET. Not now, thanks. And where’s the blushing bride?

FADINARD. She’s on her way. In eight cabs.

He tries again.

You’ll never believe this, but –

VÉZINET (shaking his hand). Well, my dear boy, congratulations.

FADINARD. Uncle . . . (Continuing.) What I was saying, I was in my pony-trap, coming along the road from Charentonneau, when I realised I’d dropped my whip.

VÉZINET. You’re a credit to the family.

FADINARD. Pardon? Ah. (Continuing.) It’s got a silver handle. I shouted ‘Whoa.’ I stopped. I got out. I looked. A hundred yards up the road, I found it. In a bramble patch. Nearly scratched myself to death.

VÉZINET. Just what I always say. ‘He’s bound to go far. You mark my –’

FADINARD. And then, when I got back to the trap, it’d gone. No trap, no horse.

FÉLIX (at the door). Mislaid your horse, Monsieur?

FADINARD. Félix. I’m talking to my uncle. Family business. Private.

VÉZINET. Not now, thanks. Mind you, good husbands make good wives.

FADINARD. Yes. Bibble, bibble, bibble. Anyway, trap gone. Horse gone. What to do? Investigate. Question witnesses. ‘There’s a trap over there, beside the wood.’ There was. Mine. Not to mention the horse. Chewing a bunch of straw, with poppies. Next minute, a woman’s voice. ‘My hat! My hat!’ Not a bunch of straw, not a horse’s lunch, a hat. She’d hung it on a bush while she talked to a soldier.

FÉLIX (aside). As you do.

FADINARD (to VÉZINET). I say talked, but you know what I really think.

VÉZINET. The big house on the corner.

FADINARD. Bibble, bibble.

VÉZINET. Beside the fire station.

FADINARD. Just what I always say. I was just about to apologise, when her soldier stormed up. Proper little Napoleon. ‘I say, you there, chappie . . .’ – that kind of thing. ‘Are you addressing me?’ I said. ‘I most certainly am,’ he said. ‘I see,’ I said. So he charged. I jumped. Next thing I’m in the trap, the horse bolts, and here I am. Oh, I did throw him five francs for the hat. Or was it ten centimes? I’ll check later. I hadn’t time to look.

He takes out a piece of straw hat, with poppies.

This is all that was left.

VÉZINET (turning it over). Nice piece of straw.

FADINARD. At that price, it would be.

VÉZINET. You won’t find another one like it. I know.

FÉLIX. Let’s have a look.

FADINARD. Félix! This is a private hat.

FÉLIX. Oh, sorry I’m sure. Excuse me. I’ll go where I’m appreciated.

He stays.

VÉZINET. Tell me, what time are we meeting at the Town Hall?

FADINARD. Eleven o’clock. E-le-ven o’clock.

He holds up eleven fingers.

VÉZINET. Lunch will be late. I think I’ll make a cup of tea. Excuse me . . .

False exit.

FADINARD. Glad to.

VÉZINET (coming back, hand outstretched). A credit. A credit.

FADINARD. What? Oh. Thanks. (Aside, as he shakes hands.) As soon as I’m married, out he goes.

VÉZINET. Not now, thanks. But it was nice of you to ask.

FADINARD. Thankyou, uncle.           [MUSIC 1]

Exeunt VÉZINET and FÉLIX left, with the piece of hat.

FADINARD. At last! In an hour’s time, I’ll be married. That fool Nonancourt won’t be shouting ‘It’s all off!’ every five minutes. The man’s a pig. A warthog. I met him on a bus. He was kicking my shin. I was just going to thump him, when I saw his daughter. Opened my fist. Passed his fare along to the conductor. After that, it was no time before we were like that, the two of us. Nurseryman . . . Charentonneau . . . Love makes us bold. I said, ‘You couldn’t let me have a packet of carrot seeds?’ He said, ‘No, but I’ve got some fine geraniums.’ It was a green light, that answer. ‘How much?’ ‘One franc the pot.’ ‘I’ll have one!’ We get to his place . . . I buy four pots (it was Félix’s birthday) . . . I ask for his daughter’s hand. ‘But what do you do?’ ‘Do? I’m a gentleman.’ ‘Well off?’ ‘Yes, thankyou.’ ‘How well?’ ‘Fifty francs.’ ‘Out!’ ‘Per day.’ ‘Stay!’ Oh, you can picture it? Next thing I know, I’m supping on sauerkraut with Bobin. Bobin, the cousin. Bobin the booby. Keeps shaking hands, kissing my fiancée....