He Who Gets Slapped

Thomas brings in the gentleman, points out the manager, and goes heavily away. The gentleman is not young, and he is ugly, but his rather strange face is bold and lively. He wears an expensive overcoat, with a fur collar, and holds his hat and gloves in his hand.

Gentleman

Bowing and smiling. Have I the pleasure of addressing the manager?

Briquet

Yes. Won’t you sit down, please? Tilly, bring a chair.

Gentleman

Oh! Don’t trouble. Looks around. These are your artists? Very glad⁠—

Mancini

Straightening and bowing slightly. Count Mancini.

Gentleman

Surprised. Count?

Briquet

Indignantly. Yes, Count. And whom have I the honour of⁠—

Gentleman

I don’t quite know myself⁠—yet. As a rule you choose your own names, don’t you? I have not chosen yet. Later you might advise me about it. I have an idea already, but I am afraid it sounds too much like literature⁠—you know.

Briquet

Literature?

Gentleman

Yes! Too sophisticated. They all look surprised. I presume these two gentlemen are clowns? I am so glad. May I shake hands with them? Stands up and shakes hands with clowns, who make silly faces.

Gentleman

That’s immaterial. I want to be a clown, if you will allow me. Some of the actors smile, Briquet begins to grow angry.

Briquet

But what can you do? You’re asking too much. What can you do?

Gentleman

Why! Nothing! Isn’t that funny! I can’t do a thing.

Briquet

No, it’s not funny. Any scoundrel knows that much.

Gentleman

Rather helpless, but still smiling and looking around. We can invent something⁠—

Briquet

Ironically. From literature?

The clown Jackson enters slowly without being noticed by the others. He stands behind the gentlemen.

Gentleman

Yes, one can find something literary, too. A nice little speech for instance on, let’s say, a religious topic. Something like a debate among the clowns.

Briquet

A debate! The devil! This is no academy.

Jackson

Nods approval. That’s not bad. Look here, think a bit⁠—find something. Everyone here thinks for himself.

Silence. The gentleman stands with a finger on his forehead, thinking.

Gentleman

Find something⁠—find something⁠ ⁠… Eureka!

Polly

That means found. Come!

Gentleman

Eureka⁠—I shall be among you, he who gets slapped. General laughter. Even Briquet smiles.

Gentleman

Looks at them smiling. You see I made even you laugh⁠—is that easy? All grow serious. Polly sighs.

Tilly

No, it’s not easy. Did you laugh, Polly?

Polly

Sure, a lot. Did you?

Tilly

I did. Imitating an instrument, he plays with his lips a melody at once sad and gay.

Jackson

“He Who Gets Slapped,” that’s not bad.

Gentleman

It’s not, is it? I rather like it myself. It suits my talent. And comrades, I have even found a name⁠—you’ll call me “He.” Is that all right?

Jackson

Thinking. “He”⁠—Not bad.

Consuelo

In a singing, melodic voice. “He” is so funny⁠—“He”⁠—like a dog. Daddy, are there such dogs?

Jackson suddenly gives a circus slap to the gentleman. He steps back and grows pale.

Gentleman

What!⁠—General laughter covers his exclamation.

Jackson

He Who Gets Slapped. Or didn’t you get it?

Polly

Comically. He says he wants more⁠—The gentleman smiles, rubbing his cheek.

Gentleman

So sudden.⁠—Without waiting.⁠—How funny⁠—you didn’t hurt me, and yet my cheek burns.

Zinida

Bezano! I keep hearing people say that you are in love with Consuelo. Is it true?

Bezano

Shrugging his shoulders. We work well together.

Zinida

Takes a step forward. No⁠—Tell me, Alfred, do you love her?

Bezano

Flushes like a boy, but looks straight into Zinida’s eyes. Proudly. I do not love anybody. No, I love nobody. How can I? Consuelo? She is here today, gone tomorrow, if her father should take her away. And I? Who am I? An acrobat, the son of a Milanese shoemaker⁠—She! I cannot even talk about it. Like my horses I have no words. Who am I to love?

Zinida

Do you love me? A little?

Bezano

No. I told you before.

Zinida

Still no? Not even a little?

Bezano

After a silence. I am afraid of you.

Zinida

Wants to cry out, indignantly, but masters herself and lowers her eyes, as if in an effort to shut out their light; turns pale. Am I⁠ ⁠… so terrifying a woman⁠—

Bezano

You are beautiful, like a queen. You are almost as beautiful as Consuelo. But I don’t like your eyes. Your eyes command me to love you⁠—and I don’t like to be commanded. I am afraid of you.

Consuelo

Her eyes are closed. I believe⁠—wait⁠—I remember. Remind me further⁠—

He is bowed over Consuelo, with lifted arms; he speaks slowly, but in a commanding voice, as if conjuring.

He

You see the waves playing. Remember the song of the sirens, their sorrowless song of joy. Their white bodies, shining blue through the blue waters. Or can you hear the sun, singing? Like the strings of a divine harp, spread the golden rays⁠—Do you not see the hand of God, which gives harmony, light, and love to the world? Do not the mountains, in the blue cloud of incense, sing their hymn of glory? Remember, O Consuelo, remember the prayer of the mountains, the prayer of the sea. Silence.

He

Commandingly. Remember⁠—Consuelo!

Consuelo

Opening her eyes. No! He, I was feeling so happy, and suddenly I forgot it all. Yet something of it all is still in my heart. Help me again, He, remind me. It hurts, I hear so many voices. They all sing “Consuelo⁠—Consuelo.” What comes after? Silence; pause. What comes after? It hurts. Remind me, He. Silence⁠—in the ring, the music suddenly bursts forth in a tempestuous circus gallop. Silence. He, opens her eyes and smiles that’s Alfred galloping. Do you recognize his music?

He

With rage. Leave the boy alone! Suddenly falls on his knees before Consuelo. I love you, Consuelo, revelation of my heart, light of my nights, I love you, Consuelo. Looks at her in ecstasy and tears⁠—and gets a slap; starting back. What’s this?

Consuelo

A slap! You forget who you are. Stands up, with anger in her eyes. You are He Who Gets Slapped! Did you forget it? Some god! With such a face⁠—slapped face! Was it with slaps they threw you down from heaven, god?