(Pause.)
GEORGE
But why do they do it?
JANNINGS
First obey. Then we can talk about it. (Pause. GEORGE hands him the cloth, which JANNINGS places picturesquely around PORTEN’S shoulders, and ties under her chin. To her) Well? (She kisses him without moving her head.) Now ask!
GEORGE
Why do they do that? Why do they listen to you?
(VON STROHEIM strikes another quaint chord.)
JANNINGS
Because it is natural to them. They did it once without my saying anything while they were half asleep, or because it just happened like that. Then I said it and they did it again. Then they asked me: “May I do that for you?” and I said: “You shall!” And from then on they did it without my having to say anything. It had become the custom. I could point my foot at something and they would jump and get it. Nothing but laws of nature. People began to socialize with one another and it became the rule.
BERGNER
(On cue, as though talking in her sleep) How are you; I’m fine, thanks. (She sighs.)
JANNINGS
An order resulted; and for people to continue to socialize with one another, this order was made explicit: it was formulated. And once it had been formulated, people had to stick to it because, after all, they had formulated it. That’s natural, isn’t it? Say something! No, don’t say anything, I am speaking now. Don’t touch that, it’s mine! (He pushes a candlestick away.) Don’t dare to stare at it, it’s my property! What was I talking about? Help me! No, don’t say anything. About the laws of nature. (He takes an ashtray into his hand, then lets it drop.) Just as this ashtray obeys the law of gravity, so you obey me. Well? (He points with his foot; GEORGE puts the ashtray back on the table.) You see? Do you believe me now? No, don’t answer, I’ll answer for you. Yes, that business with the ashtray and the force of gravity is true enough, I can imagine your answer to be. Do you know what the difference is between you and me? (GEORGE laughs as though before a joke.) No, no joke: I can imagine you sometimes, you must imagine me always. Why aren’t you laughing? By the way, this reminds me of a real joke: what’s the man’s name who invented the chair? Well? Nothing? I’ll help you. What’s the man’s name who invented the Zeppelin? (Pause. He laughs invitingly.) You’re not laughing. O.K.! But I’ll make a note of it. Where was I? Hadn’t I asked you to remind me what else I wanted to talk about? Didn’t I see you nod? Then I only imagined that I saw you nod. Once I thought of a conversation I had with someone, and I remembered distinctly how he’d smiled when he answered me, and then it occurred to me that I had been talking to him on the telephone! The laws of nature! The trains! The ocean! He stood where you’re standing now! (GEORGE, startled, steps aside; JANNINGS bursts out laughing, again drops the ashtray.) I’d like to pick it up for you, but I have to stick to what I said (To PORTEN), don’t I? (She nods.) I can’t say something and then do the opposite of what I’ve said. Inconceivable! That would be a topsy-turvy world. Do you understand that? (PORTEN tries to reach backward for the ashtray.) Stop, that’s his job! (GEORGE puts the ashtray on the table, VON STROHEIM touches the guitar almost accidentally: a gentle chord.) So you understand. Just as the trains must obey a schedule so that there is no disorder, so you must obey me. That business with the trains and their schedule is probably true, you say? I dare you to tell me that! Keep quiet? Answer! (GEORGE wants to speak.) Forget it! Like a maggot that crawls across one’s palm — no, that belongs somewhere else. The ocean! What are you thinking of just now? You can’t say it? Then you’re not thinking of anything. I once lived for some time by the ocean, and since I lived there, in what categories would you guess I began to think? In the categories of low and high tide! And that’s how it is generally: (As though to the audience) the manner in which one thinks is determined by the laws of nature! (Again to GEORGE) For example, since I’ve started taking walks through the woods, I always think at the sight of the weak and the strong in terms of the laws of nature. And since I learned to read menus—(He pushes PORTEN from his knees and she goes quickly to the sofa, cuddles up on it, and he looks toward her.) — I think about women, whether I want to or not, in the categories of hors d’oeuvre and main dish. (She looks at him, but one rather feels the look than actually sees it.) She doesn’t want it differently — ask her yourself. She’ll show you how. (He snaps his fingers at her and she responds.)
BERGNER
(As though she had learned a few questions by heart) Do I talk too much for you? Are my knees too bony? Am I too heavy for you? Is my nose too big? Am I too sensible for you? Do you find me too loud? Are my breasts too small? Do you think I’m too fat? Am I too fast for you? Am I too skinny for you? Was I good?
JANNINGS
You see, she herself uses the categories in which one thinks of her. (To PORTEN) Hey! (She comes back and settles on his knees.) When I used to be called, to begin with I only said “yes!” After all, it was possible that they only wanted to know whether I was still there. Where were we? (GEORGE puts his hand to the back of his head, lowers the hand again.) Stop! Repeat that gesture! (GEORGE repeats it.) It reminds me of something. More slowly! (GEORGE repeats the gesture.) The hat! Do you know the song “Me Hat, It Has Three Corners”? It’s a folk song. (He recites it seriously.)
Me hat, it has three corners
Three corners has me hat
And if it hadn’t three corners
It wouldn’t be me hat.
Ever since I’ve known that song I am incapable of imagining a hat with it. A three-cornered hat: an impossible idea! A hat: an impossible, a forbidden idea! Once I ordered (or permitted?) a cake to be cut. “Where?” I was asked. Ever since then I’ve been unable to imagine a cake. You try drawing a circle in your mind but don’t know where to begin. Finally there’s a noise in the brain as if a boiling egg were popping. Quiet! Shut up! I can imagine what you want to say! The circle! I become dizzy when I’m supposed to imagine it! And when I become dizzy, I become furious. For example, someone asks me what time it is. Can you imagine that there’s someone who has no watch? I certainly can’t. Dizziness and anger! Or: a person looks “desperate,” starts all sorts of jobs but stops them all again at once. Can you imagine anyone still being seriously desperate? Dizziness! Dizziness and anger! Or someone is ashamed? Dizziness and anger, dizziness and anger! Then the contrary: someone is ashamed for someone else? I for you? At once! You cannot imagine that I’m ashamed for you? (He pushes the cigar box off the table so that all the cigars fall out, puts PORTEN in her fauteuil, stands in front of GEORGE, and claps his hands before GEORGE’s face, pretending to slap him, and sits down again.) Like chocolate and soap — yes, like chocolate that lies next to a piece of soap. I, at any event, have never felt ashamed — except for that time when I compared two feelings I had for someone to chocolate and soap. And then once more. (Pause.) And then the story about the maggot on the palm of the hand. (Pause.) And then once when I was asked: “Who is that?” and answered: “That one? Yes, she’s very touching, isn’t she?” (Pause.) Yes, and then one more time. (He laughs shamefully, remembering.) And then once when I said: “Present company excepted, naturally!” And another time when I heard someone say, “She’s ugly!” and replied: “But she has pretty eyes.” (Pause.) And then just the one more time when I put the matchbook on the counter and the salesman asked me: “Is that you?” (Pause; puzzled) Actually, I’ve been ashamed quite frequently. (Pause, to VON STROHEIM) Should I make him feel ashamed?