Schuster School - Proscenium Yearbook (Cincinnati, OH)

Page 48 text:

IIPALMYRE enters. She is a beautiful woman. still quite young. Her eyes are rest- les as from a vague discontentj PALMYRE iDisappoinledJ Nlusing aloud again to naught but wind! i thought, when I heard your voice, someone haci come, My cousin, perhaps, returned. THE PAINTER What does he want? More money? PALMYRE, He has been unfortunate. THE PAINTER Unfortunate! Call him unfortunate! Yet he has held this little hand that mine Now closes round, and never is denied The beauty of that smile I used to know And thought to keep as mine forever. Well, if you Find pleasure in his company More than in mine, what matter. You were pleased When i could help your cousin With the gold Your portrait brought me. PALMYRE iExamining the painting impatientlyj This one not yet done! i thought to have a thousand lire more For him tonight. You cannot give it to me? THE PAINTER A thousand lire! PALMYRE Yes. You promised me i should have half the price of the Sunset here. i told him to return this evening. He'll come anon. I pray you, give it me. THE. PAINTER He comes again tonight? Have you forgot You promised me this one night to ourselves? Bear with me this once, and you shall see How well I'll work'for you. Tomorrow's sale Should bring thrice doubled the amount you ask. 1'11 pay your cousin's debts e- all of them. PALMYRE All! Page forty-six

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LlTERRPOJ In an Italian Garclen A POETIC DUOLOGUE GERTRUDE EVERTS BRICE Characters Represented - A Painter and Palmyra, his Wife. Time -- Period of the Italian Renaissance. Place 1 Venice at sunset. The setting is a garden. An easel, R, holds a painting not yet finished. Before it is the artist's chair; above it a small bench on which are tubes of paint, oil, brushes and other accessories. A marble seat, I... At the back. steps lead down to a canal that empties into the Grand Canal beyond. Across the water are the facades of old palaces; over the Grand Canal the afterglow of sunset is fading out of the sky. In the east a few pale stars, and as the daylight fades the moonlight becomes more and more distinct, The Painter lays aside his palette wearily. iooks critically at his picture, and sighs. THE PAINTER No more, no more tonight. The life has gone Out from me as the light fades from the sky. How soft the colors now, whereas before - Only since some swift-footed moments Bed 4: All heaven blazed with passion, the Canal Flashed like a blood-stained sword. . . . All's turned to gray; Violet shadows ineath the gondoias lie; Yes, there is color still, but all more drab, As day, departing, veils her radiant form And followeth her 10rd, the vanished sun; While Night with silent sandals swiftly walks Hitherward from the deep eastern sky. thote : Written for Dramatic Class and published in the Annual by request. 4:12 2 4-: Page forty-five

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THE. PAINTER Yes all, if but once more you will seem mine In spirit as in flesh. You used to be F- 01' was it all a dream? Had you a soul That somehow died when I essayed to grasp Thy beauty which escaped me, leaving naught But thy fair body? Has the rose I pressed Close to my hungry heart faded and diecl, StiHed With tenderness? Has thy soul fled, Or was it ever there? My little dream! Those days are gone: I thought you had a soul. PALMYRE I do not understand your talk of souls. I know I love you as I always have, And ever Will. My cousin is my kin, In trouble and in need. Your jealousy Has wrought strange fancies in your mind, and -e Well? Will you give me the sum? A thousand Iire. THE PAINTER And if I should refuse? PALMYRE IIII sell my ring. THE. PAINTER The topaz? PALMYRE No. That was sold long ago. No, I shall sell this one. ,Tis all I have. THE PAINTER The diamond I gave you at the birth Of our one Child. No, no, Palmyre, not that! PALMYRE. IDclermfnedI Then you must give to me the thousand lire. THE. PAINTER I cannot. But tomorrowe PALMYRE Will be too Iate. No. Tonight he either pays -- or dies. Oh! don,t you understand? It means his life! Now - will you let me sell the little ring, Or give me what he needs e the thousand lire? Page forty-scven