Act I

Professor Ward, roused at daybreak after a night at his desk, shows intense disappointment and nervous fatigue.

In brief scene with Phronie, he shows the essential part she plays in his life as one on whom he can absolutely depend; but when he expresses his disapproval of her admirer, Keith Sanford, she shows clear signs of rebellious spirit.

In rapid scene with Phronie and Keith, their spirit of youthful romance is made clear; and Keith indicates his college ambition, his predicament regarding his “cribbed” thesis, and his new attitude therein, ending with his evident resolve to make a clean breast of the matter....

There follows a scenario which is somewhat clearer than the others because it identifies the figures, but it certainly leaves their relations rather confused.

An old white-haired man, the Sire de Maletroit, is seated in the chair to right of fireplace, in a listening attitude. The sound of a heavy door banging is heard and a minute later a young man, sword in hand, parts the curtains on left and stands blinking in the opening. He enters and explains that he has accidentally gained entrance to the house and is unable to re-open the door. His name is Denis de Beaulieu. He seems amazed to have the old man say that he has been waiting for him. Denis suggests that he must be going, at which the old man bursts into a fit of laughter. Denis is insulted and offers to hew the Maletroit’s door to pieces. He is convinced that this is folly; the place is full of armed men. The old man rises, goes to door on right and calls upon his niece to leave her prayers and receive her lover. She comes in attended by a priest and protests that this is not the man. The uncle is incredulous and withdraws with a leer.

Again a good list of dramatis personæ would be helpful.

Prefix to this the following:

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR

Place: Château Landon.

Time: Fourteenth century.

Dramatis Personæ

Blanche, orphan niece of Sire de Maletroit.

A Priest, chaplain to Sire de Maletroit.

The Sire de Maletroit.

Denis de Beaulieu, a stranger.

With this prefixed we can read the scenario just quoted far more comprehendingly.

Note how clearly the following two lists of dramatis personæ take us to the scenario proper:

THE LEGACY

The Persons

David Brice, a young attorney.

Reene Brice, his uncle.

Benjamin Doyle, his fiancée’s father.

Dr. Wangren, family physician.

Mrs. Brice, the mother.

”Ditto” Brice, the sister.

Katherine Doyle, fiancée.

THE CAPTAIN: A MELODRAMA

Dramatis Personæ

Captain La Rue, a little sea captain.

Bromley Barnes, former special investigator for the U.S. customs service.

Patrick Clancy, his friend.

A burly Butler.

John Felspar, junior partner of the firm of Felspar & Felspar, wine merchants.

Two Dinner Guests, members of the firm.

Carl Cozzens, the firm’s Canadian representative.

It is easy, however, to let this list of characters go too far descriptively. For instance, this next list tells much which might better appear first in the body of the scenario. The danger here is one already mentioned in this book, namely, that such careful characterizing in the dramatis personæ or program is likely to make the characterization of the scenario or play inadequate.

AN ENCORE

Adapted from the story by Margaret Deland

In Two Acts

Time: About 1830 in June.
Place: Little town of Old Chester.
Between the first and second acts three weeks elapse.

Dramatis Personæ

Captain Price: Retired sea-captain, big, bluff, and hearty, with white hair and big white mustachios, rather untidy as to dress. Age, about 68.

Cyrus Price: His son, weak and neat-looking, very thin and of sandy complexion. Age, about 35.

Mrs. North: Sprightly, pretty, white-haired little lady of about 65. Always in black silk.

Miss North: Her daughter, nervous and shy, but truthful with a mania for taking care of her mother and no knowledge of how to wear her clothes; about 40.

Mrs. Gussie Price: A stout, colorless blond, a weeping, vividly gowned lady, who rules her husband, Cyrus, through her tears. Age, about 30.

Flora: A colored maid.

The danger is shown to the utmost in the following. The characterization in the scenario to which this was prefixed was practically nil.

Forsythe Savile: A young lawyer of about thirty, clever, and rather versatile. While of great promise in his profession, he is not at all pedantic, but has many interests. He is well-read, widely travelled, fond of outdoor sports, and is very popular. Perhaps his most prominent characteristic is his ready wit. He is rarely non-plussed, and while quick and pointed in his remarks, is yet not ill-natured with them. He has been Dennings’ most intimate friend ever since they were in college together, although their lives lie along very divergent lines.

Richard Dennings: A globe trotter, as a hunter, explorer, and war-correspondent. He is clever and able, with a tendency to act on impulse rather than after deliberation. He is the closest kind of friend to Forsythe. He has been engaged to Frances Langdon, but the engagement has been broken off. This last fact is not known to any save the two themselves.

Judge Savile: A widower, and Forsythe’s father. He has been a very successful man, and holds a high place in his profession. He is devoted to books, and cannot understand his son’s taste for out-of-door life, and athletics in general. He philosophically accepts the inevitable, however, and is very proud of Forsythe. The Judge does not approve of the engagement of Frances Langdon to Dennings; he cannot understand Dennings’ uncertain methods of life. The Judge while saying very little of his opinion foresees that matters are very far from being finally settled, and is quietly awaiting developments.

Margaret Savile: Forsythe’s younger sister, and a feminine edition of him. She is very pretty, bright, and attractive. She and Forsythe are most intimate, more so than brother and sister usually are.

Frances Langdon: An intimate friend of Margaret, and familiarly known as “Frank.” She is essentially feminine, attractive, witty and talented. She is very nervous and high-strung—a strong character, but susceptible to her feelings. She has known the Saviles since she was a child and is considered exactly as a relative. She has broken her engagement to Richard Dennings.

A butler: The usual English type.

That list tells so much about the characters that the scenario proper could do little but repeat. The writer, troubled by his sense of repetition, rested for his characterization on the slight chance that a reader would remember every detail of the dramatis personæ. All that a reader needs to know at the outset of a scenario is who the characters are, and, in the broadest way, their relations to one another.

A list of dramatis personæ should be followed with a statement of the time and place if they are important, and of the settings for all the acts. A detailed description of each new setting should precede its scene or act. In the scenarios already quoted notice how difficult it is to place the characters as far as setting is concerned and how much would be gained if a good description of the setting were added. Keep the description of a setting to essentials, that is, furniture and decorations necessary to give requisite atmosphere or required in the action of the piece. As always in scenarios and acting editions use “left” and “right” as “left” and “right” of the actor, not of the audience.

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR (See p. 428)

SCENE: A large room in the house of the Sire de Maletroit; large fireplace at centre back; curtained door on left leads to stairway; curtained door right leads to chapel. The room is well illuminated by candles, reflecting the polish of stone walls. It is scantily furnished.

THE LEGACY (See p. 464)

THE SCENE: The Brice living-room comfortably furnished in walnut. A piano centre L., a round table, rear R. Four entrances: upper L., rear centre, upper right, right centre. Curtained windows rear R. & L.

As has already been pointed out earlier in this book, it is wholly unwise to call, in a description of a setting, for details not really necessary. Here is the setting for the dramatis personæ quoted on p. 431. It is over-elaborate because the action of the proposed play involves use of hardly any of the properties called for.

SCENE: Forsythe Savile’s “den.” It is an odd room, a curious mixture of library, smoking-room, and museum. On the right is a large fireplace, over which are hung an elk’s head, a couple of rifles, queer-looking Eastern weapons, and other sporting trophies and evidences of travel. The room is panelled in dark oak; low bookcases line the walls, and on top of the cases are small bronzes, photographs, strange bits of bric-à-brac, and a medley of things,—such truck as a man with cultivated tastes would insist on accumulating. There are numerous pictures, a rather heterogeneous lot; valuable engravings,—portraits of famous lights of the bench and the bar, to judge by their wigs,—a few oils of the Meissonier type; and others which are obviously relics of college, with medals slung across them by brightly coloured ribbons. The furniture of the room is of heavy oak, upholstered in dull crimson leather. Capacious club armchairs are in convenient places, near lamps and books. Around the hearth is a high English fender, and before it is a great Davenport sofa. On the left, is a broad-topped table-desk, covered with papers and books, and bearing a squat bronze lamp with a crimson shade. At one end of the Davenport is a low cabinet, on which are glasses and decanters. There is a wide doorway at the back of the stage which gives the only entrance and is hung with heavy crimson portières. The centre of the floor is filled by a huge polar bear-skin rug, with massive head and the odd spaces are covered by smaller fur rugs. The stage is dark, save for the uncertain, wavering light cast by the wood fire.

Time: The present, and about half-past eight on a winter evening.

A sketch of the desired arrangement of the stage should be prefixed to the description of the setting. This may be as simple as comports with clear picturing of the exact conditions required. Such drawings not only help to clearness, they sometimes bring out difficulties in a proposed setting not at once evident in a description. Perhaps the staging called for in what immediately follows may not seem over-elaborate in the reading. A diagram at once shows its awkwardness, expensiveness, and undesirability.

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR

The scene represents a mediæval outer hall of a powerful nobleman of Paris with the approach thereto, the streets adjacent and several other buildings thereon, at 11.30 P.M., the streets in semi-darkness. This hall runs clear down the stage to within the width of a narrow street of the footlights. This street is supposed to run clear across the stage. The approach to the hall from without is through two doors left which open into a gloomy passageway large enough to contain a dozen soldiers. The door to the left of these two entrances opens inward from the street running up left at right angles to the street by the footlights, leaving room enough at the extreme left for several doorways which should be set into the houses so as to form a place sufficient to hide a man who was being searched for on the sidewalk. At the extreme rear of the street going up the stage is stone pavement. The walls of the palace are of thick stones and the furnishings of the hall are plain and gloomy consisting of chairs and a table, a tall clock with a loud tick, curtains at the doors; and over the fireplace, which is huge, hang a shield and helmet, the former emblazoned with the device of the family, the latter beplumed, while under them are two long swords, crossed, with their points hidden behind the shield, these blades both in their scabbards. The floors are all of stone.

At the right of the fireplace are two wide doors which when opened give a full view of the chapel beyond, with the attar to the rear in the centre. The chapel need show no more than a private altar, the accompanying candles, drapery, and steps, lighted with a single hanging lamp of the period that swings before the first step of the altar.

The chairs and table in the hall are of mission style. The doors opening on the street from all of the establishments are very wide, embossed in iron bands and supplied with knockers, heavy bolts and bars on the inside wherever the inside is exposed. There is a large fire in the fireplace. A lamp of the period is swung with heavy chains over the table.

The diagram on the next page shows how this would look.

It is in many ways a bad setting. Waiving all question whether any attempt to suggest the fourth wall of a room, as in The Passing of the Third Floor Back by the fireplace at centre front of stage is wise, surely there can be no doubt that to ask an audience to imagine a street between them and the room into which they are looking, particularly when no necessary action takes place in that street, is undesirable. Therefore the suggested “street” across the front of the stage may go. Where is the value of the street at the side? Little, if any, action in it will be seen except by the very small part of the audience directly in line with it. For these the settings below the doors at stage left must be decidedly pushed back or they will lose important action by the fireplace. It is questionable, too, whether the fireplace should not be moved down stage to one side or the other, so important is the facial expression of the Sire de Maletroit as he sits by it. For effective action, it is better, also, to separate fireplace and chapel entrance. It is both easy and for acting purposes better, to stage this proposed play with a setting as simple as this:

Gothic stone interior: Doors, centre leading to Chapel or Oratory; lower right and up left. All doors with old tapestry curtains. Deep mullioned window up right with landscape backing. Large Gothic fireplace, with hooded chimney, left. Corridor backings for all doors. Large armchair left centre in front of fireplace; large oak table right centre, with chairs on either side; other furniture of period to dress stage. Altar and furnishings for Chapel.

Nowadays descriptions of settings are noticeably free from the mystic R.U.E., L. 2 E., D.L.C., etc., which characterized stage directions of the early Victorian period. When wings and flats, as in some wood-scenes today, were used for indoor as well as outdoor scenes—that is, before the coming of the box-set—the stage was divided in this way:

Now that the box-set has replaced the older fashion and new devices are steadily improving on the old wood-wings, it is enough to indicate clearly in the diagram and in the description what doors, windows, fireplaces, and properties are necessary, and exactly where, if their positions are essential in the action. If not, they may be placed to suit the sense of proportion of the designer of the scenery and the sense of fitness of the producer. In any case, rarely today does an author need to use all or many of these stage divisions of an older day. The first of the following diagrams shows how simply an interior set which makes no special demands may be indicated.

THE DANCING GIRL. ACT I

Diana Valrose’s boudoir at Richmond. A very elegantly furnished room, with light, pretty furniture. Discover Drusilla in handsome morning dress arranging flowers in large china bowl. Enter footman, announcing Mr. Christison. Enter John. Exit Footman.

It is often desirable to vary the usual shape given a room on the stage—exactly rectangular or nearly square. The next diagram shows a more complicated setting, of unusual shape.

THE WALLS OF JERICHO. ACT I

An ante-room in Marquis of Steventon’s house during a ball. Miss Wyatt, a vivacious young American, has cake-walked with Twelvetrees all the way from the ball-room.

Music under stage.

Act II of Young America calls for a setting in which the placing of heavy properties is important.

YOUNG AMERICA. ACT II

SCENE. The Juvenile Court, 10 A.M.—Two days later.

Two entrances, R. U. door leading to Judge’s chamber. L.2 door leading to corridor.

Right—Judge’s bench. It extends up and down stage. Below it Clerk’s bench upon which are two card catalogue filing cases for court records for children. At L. of Judge’s bench small docket for prisoner. At L. of docket, witness stand. It is an 18-inch platform with chair on it. The docket and witness stand face front.

Left—three benches for spectators and witnesses. They face front and are enclosed within a picket railing. Gate with spring lock, near left end of front railing.

How the setting for an outdoor scene may be indicated the diagram for Act I of The Dancing Girl shows.

THE DANCING GIRL. ACT I

SCENE. The Island of Saint Endellion, off the Cornish Coast. At the back is a line of low rocks, and beyond, the sea. A pathway leads through the rocks down to the sea. On the right side of the stage is the Quakers’ meeting-house, a plain square granite building, showing a door and two windows. The meeting-house is built on a low insular rock that rises some three or four feet above the stage; it is approached by pathways, leading up from the stage. On the left side of the stage, down towards the audience, is David Ives’s house; another plain granite building, with a door down stage, and above the door, a window. The house is built into a cliff that rises above it. Beyond the house is a pathway that leads up the cliff and disappears amongst the rocks on the left side towards the centre of the stage; a little to the right is a piece of rock rising about two feet from the stage.

Time, An Autumn evening.

I. Call.
John Christison.
Faith Ives.
David Ives.
Drusilla Ives.

As the chief purpose of the writer of a scenario is immediately to grip the interest of the reader, this dramatic outline must obviously provide any historical background necessary to sympathetic understanding of the story. In other words, a scenario must very briefly summarize the preliminary exposition about which so much has already been said in the body of this book. The opening of the scenario, already quoted in part on p. 428, may be interesting, but it is also puzzling, for a reader is not told enough in regard to the past of the figures involved to know how to receive what information is given. Much depends on whether Denis de Beaulieu is lying or not. Make the reader somehow understand that Denis and Blanche have never met before and that although the uncle believes Denis is her lover, he is completely in the wrong. Then comedy immediately emerges, interest increases.

Here is a scenario which remained vague and confusing, till just before the final curtain, because the writer thought surprise more valuable than suspense. Consequently he held back the one bit of information which gives significance and comic value to the conduct of Mr. and Mrs. Brede.

[Diagram of setting]

SCENE. The piazza of a mountain boarding-house. R, practicable door. L, practicable window. C, practicable step. On the piazza are a number of chairs. The bit of lawn in front is not too well kept.

Characters

Mr. Jones ordinary, well-educated people.
Mrs. Jones

Major Halkit, retired business man, interested in stock companies.

Mrs. Halkit, his wife, an old gossip, prim and censorious.

Mr. Brede young, handsome, “nice.”
Mrs. Brede

Jacobus, Yankee boarding-house keeper.

Brede and Jones come from the house and discuss the view from the piazza. Brede is enthusiastic and compares it with that from the Matterhorn. Mrs. Brede and Mrs. Jones come from the house in time to hear “Matterhorn” and Mrs. Brede expresses surprise that her husband has climbed it. Mr. Brede, confused, says it was five years ago, and Mrs. Brede gently chides him for doing such a thing during the first year of their marriage. Mr. Jones and Mrs. Brede talk aside while Mr. Brede explains to Mrs. Jones that he had left his wife in New York some months after their marriage for a hasty trip to Europe and had climbed the Matterhorn then.

Mr. and Mrs. Brede go down the side steps and off at R.C. for a stroll. Mr. and Mrs. Jones discuss them, and decide that they are very “nice” people. During their talk it develops that while Mr. Brede had been telling Mr. Jones that Mrs. Brede had been in this country when he climbed the Matterhorn, Mrs. Brede had informed Mrs. Jones that her husband had left her at Geneva and afterwards taken her to Basle, where their first child was born.

At this point Mrs. Halkit comes from the house. She censures Mrs. Brede for not knowing how to care for her husband and children and it comes out that Mrs. Brede has told Mrs. Halkit that they have two children who have been left with her aunt, whereas Mr. Brede has told Mr. Jones that they have three children at present under the care of his mother-in-law.

Enter Major Halkit from the house. He criticises Mr. Brede, who purports to be looking for a business opening, for his failure to take a fine chance the Major has pointed out to him.

The party come to the conclusion that there is something queer about the couple and are about to call Jacobus when he appears, coming from the left. Before any of the boarders have a chance to speak, Jacobus asks some question about the numbering of streets in New York and the fact is brought out that Mr. Brede told Mrs. Jacobus, when he was engaging the room, that he lived at number thirty-four of his street, and that the day before Mrs. Brede had informed Mrs. Jacobus that their number was thirty-five....

A reader struggling through the paragraphs of this scenario finds very little that is dramatic because the dramatic values the writer feels in his sentences cannot be the reader’s till he learns that Mr. and Mrs. Brede are a newly married couple who wish to conceal the fact. Re-read the quotation with that in mind and all confusion disappears.

On the other hand, it is not always easy to convey needed preliminary exposition interestingly. When much is needed, there is always danger that the opening of the scenario will be talky and referential rather than definite and full of dramatic action. The following is by no means as bad an example as might be found of a slow opening caused by need for much historical exposition, but it certainly lacks gripping action:

SCENARIO OF CONISTON

When the curtain is raised, Millicent Skinner is working about; a second later Chester Perkins comes slinking in, looking back as though pursued by the Evil One, and close on his heels, another local politician, Mr. Dodd, of the Brampton prudential school committee, enters with the same stealthy and harassed air. Millicent twits them with having run away from Bijah Bixby who is at Jonah Winch’s store. They deny that they are afraid of Bije or any one. It is brought out in a sentence or two that Jethro Bass, Cynthia and Ephraim Prescott are away on their Washington trip, and that Bijah, knowing of Jethro’s absence, is not likely to come here, which is why the two men have chosen the yard for a refuge; as they have been planning petty treason against the political control of the town by Jethro Bass. Millicent laughs at them and goes in the house. Mr. Dodd and Chester recover their swagger and begin to discuss Bijah and his sneaking ways. Bob Worthington enters, goes to the porch and calls Millicent. She responds from a nearby window. He enquires when she expects Cynthia to return. She tells him they will be here today. Bob announces that he will return, a little later, and goes out. Chester and Dodd discuss Bob’s attention to Cynthia and how furious the elder Worthington will be if his son marries the ward of Jethro Bass. Then they drift back to their first topic and are soon absorbed in their wordy revolt against Jethro Bass and Bijah.

Chester. This town’s tired of puttin’ up with a king!

(Behind them Bijah enters silently and stands at their elbows unperceived.)

Bijah. Leetle early for campaignin’, Chester, leetle early.

(The other two stand aghast.)

The scene which follows between the three men gives their characters, the Coniston political atmosphere, Jethro’s position as boss of the State and his character, the cumulating antagonism between Jethro Bass and Isaac Worthington, the relation between Jethro and Cynthia, his ward. Bijah confides to the two that a new era is dawning; that “the railroads, represented by Worthington, Sr., are tired of paying tribute” to Jethro and are about to turn and exterminate him. Bixby says that Jethro’s power is gone, that a greater than he has risen, that Isaac Worthington’s campaign, brought forth under cover of a great reform movement, will sweep the State in the next few months and leave Jethro politically dead. Bijah brings out a copy of the last issue of the Newcastle Guardian (leading newspaper of the State), and reads them “The scathing arraignment of Jethro Bass ... showing how he had debauched his own town of Coniston; how, enlarging on the same methods, he had gradually extended his grip over the county and finally over the State; how he had bought and sold men for his own power and profit, deceived those who had trusted him, corrupted governors and legislators ... how he had trafficked ruthlessly in the enterprises of the people.” Bijah tells them that the whole State is in a stir over this article, that it is the open declaration of war against Jethro.

Here Alva Hopkins and his daughter Cassandra enter. Hopkins has read the article and come post-haste to see Jethro. He and Bijah discuss the situation and Bijah tells them that the postmastership which Jethro has promised to Ephraim Prescott (and which it is surmised they have gone to Washington to secure) is to go to Dave Wheelock; that that will be the first tangible sign to the public of the fall of Jethro Bass....

The cardinal principle in scenario writing, as in the play itself, is that not talk but action is basal. In a scenario, however, action is described rather than represented. As we have just seen, the lengthy historical account of what lies behind the opening scene is hard to convey without talkiness. Many would-be dramatists dodge this difficulty, indeed the whole task of making clear the emotional significance of the action which the play involves, by writing scenarios which are little more than schedules of the entrances and exits of their characters. There was something of this in the “Coniston” scenario. The difficulty is still more marked in the following:

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR

SCENE: The Maletroit Entrance-Hall

[Diagram of Setting]

Characters

A Priest.

The Sire de Maletroit.

Blanche de Maletroit, his niece.

Denis de Beaulieu.

Retainer.

Discovered, Retainer finishing work on the door, C. Enter Priest, L.U.E. Slight exposition suggesting that a trap is being set for a girl’s gallant. Exit Priest. Enter R.U.E. the Sire. Commends the workman’s results, increasing the suspense regarding purpose. Rope outside window R, examined without explanation. Retainer, questioned as to news in the town, remarks the presence of a dare-devil young French soldier under safe-conduct who is likely to get into trouble with the troops quartered in town, unless he keeps a civil tongue in his head. Retainer dismissed R, with suggestion that he understands what is expected of him.

The Sire calls Priest, questions him regarding Blanche, furthering the exposition.

Blanche enters, dressed as bride, and bursts forth in troubled questions as to the meaning of her uncle’s orders regarding her appearance at this hour in such costume. The cause is hinted at as an intrigue, and Blanche is ordered to retire and wait in the chapel.

The Sire indicates that the hour is approaching for the “arrival” and the lights are extinguished.

As has been pointed out already, entrances and exits are of the slightest possible consequence except when they count in characterization or dramatic action. It is what takes place for the characters between an entrance and exit which a scenario must bring out as briefly yet clearly as possible.

This fault of over-emphasizing entrances and exits is closely related to the “referential” treatment of possible dramatic material. The method for this is: “Mr. and Mrs. Brown enter and talk passionately about their future.” “Anne and Sarah now have a tempestuous scene in which Anne discloses to the full her agony.” Such scenario writing is all too easy, for the value of the scenario, like the value of the play, will depend upon the ability of the author to make the first scene passionate and the second tempestuous and agonizing. A scenario which constantly states that at a given point something of interest will be done or a very powerful scene dealing with the emotions of one or more of the characters will be written is both useless and exasperating. Nobody wants to buy such a dramatic “pig in a poke.” Compare a referential scenario, the first of the three which follow, with the other two. They may, as parts of scenarios, have faults, but at least they move, not by references to “sarcasm, a horror that transfixes, violent threats,” etc., but by definitely roused emotional interest.

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR

[Diagram of Setting]

SCENE. A baronial apartment in heavy polished stone. At the back a large doorway hung with rich tapestry leads to a small chapel. At the right are two doors also with tapestry. In the left back corner is a huge fireplace carved with the arms of the Maletroits. At the left is a large open window looking over the parapets of the castle. A heavy table and a chair or two are all the furnishings.

Place: Château Landon.

Time: Fourteenth Century.

Dramatis Personæ

Blanche, orphan niece of Sire de Maletroit.

A Priest, chaplain to Sire de Maletroit.

Sire de Maletroit.

Denis de Beaulieu, a stranger.

As the curtain rises Blanche is seen in the chapel kneeling as the priest is finishing the chanting of the vesper service. At the close she rises and walks toward the window, glancing hastily about to see that no one is in the room. As soon as the priest has left she draws from her breast a letter which she starts to read. She is soon interrupted by the entrance of her uncle the Sire de Maletroit, whose keen glance detects her hasty crumpling of the note which she has not had time to conceal. He greets her jovially and starts to walk hand in hand with her. Forcing open her hand, he finds the note, which he reads in a bitterly sarcastic tone, while Blanche stands transfixed with horror. It is a note asking her to leave the house door open at midnight so that the writer may enter and exchange words with her on the stairs. With cold sarcasm, ill concealing his rage, the Sire forces from her the story that a young captain has met her in church and given her the note. She denies that she knows his name, and the most violent threats will not induce her to tell it. She is then sent to her room to dress in sackcloth of repentance and told to prepare to spend the night in the chapel.

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR

Persons represented

The Sire de Maletroit.

Blanche de Maletroit, his niece.

Denis de Beaulieu, a young soldier.

A Priest.

SCENE. Large apartment of stone. On each of the three sides of the room, three doors curtained with tapestry. On left, beside the door a window. Stone chimney-piece, carved with arms of the Maletroits. Furniture, mainly consisting of table, and heavy chair beside chimney.

Place: Château Landon, France.

Time: September, 1429.

Curtain rises showing an old gentleman in a fur tipped coat seated in the heavy chair. The old man is mumbling to himself a sort of strange murmur, smiling and nodding, as he sips a cup of wine. The room is silent save for the muttering of the old man.

Suddenly, from the direction of the arras covering the door to left, a muffled sound begins to obtrude itself. This sound, at first vague, then waxing more and more distinct, resolves itself into steps cautiously mounting a flight of stairs. The steps, gradually less vague, finally firm and assertive, reach the tapestried doorway. The click of metal, probably that of a sword, accompanying the steps, echoes in the hush of the room.

The arras parts, and a young man blinking from dark into sudden light, stumbles into the room. (As the tapestry closes behind the youth, a dark passageway and shadowy flight of stairs beyond are visible.)

Another pause ensues, during which the young man and the old man continue to gaze at one another.

”Pray step in,” begins the old man; “I have been expecting you all the evening.”

The youth shivers slightly, hesitating for speech. Finally he manages to answer....

MISTRESS BEATRICE COPE