SANTIAGO: (Trying to kiss her) But you’re in love with me, Pussikins. Haven’t you told me so countless times? Do you want me to remind you about all those things you used to say to me in your letters? You’re making a big mistake, my love. Marry Johnny and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
KATHIE: I’ll never regret it, I’m going to be very happy with Johnny. So stop following me around, stop ringing me up, and leave me alone. Just accept the fact once and for alclass="underline" I’m going to marry Johnny.
SANTIAGO: I’ll never accept it. I won’t give up till the very last moment: not till you’re walking down the aisle together.
KATHIE: Then you’re going to be wasting your time miserably.
SANTIAGO: (Returning to his place of work and his tape-recorder, becoming himself again) It’s just that if I ever manage to convince myself there’s no more hope, that there’s no …
KATHIE: (To an invisible Victor) What will you do? Will you kill me? Will you kill Johnny?
SANTIAGO: You know it doesn’t sound very Egyptian, señora. Instead of Johnny, you need an Arab name. What about Ahmed? Or Gamul? Don’t you like Gamul, the prurient perfume-seller, or Ahmed, the amorous parfumier.
KATHIE: Oh, Johnny’s got nothing to do with my book. My mind was wandering. I was thinking of when I was young.
SANTIAGO: Stay young please, señora.
KATHIE: If you really meant that, you’d call me Kathie.
SANTIAGO: I’m sorry. From now on I’ll call you Kathie, I promise.
KATHIE: I was thinking of my admirers. I had masses of them: Kike, Bepo, Harry, Gordo Rivarola … In those days, I was what was called a good match.
SANTIAGO: I know. I knew you, though you didn’t know me. In fact everybody knew you. From the social columns, from society magazines.
KATHIE: What were you like in those days?
SANTIAGO: (Dreamily) Me? An idealist, a romantic. I dreamt I was going to be another Victor Hugo, I was going to dedicate my life to poetry, politics, art. Something important, where I could make my mark in society. I wanted to fill my life with grand gestures.
JUAN: (Moving closer) Can we talk for a moment, Kathie? It’s about … Victor.
KATHIE: I’ve absolutely nothing to say about Victor. I don’t want to talk about him. Either now or ever, with you or anyone else for that matter. I haven’t seen him since we got married, so you needn’t start making jealous scenes about him now.
(SANTIAGO has left his place of work, and is now beside them. He seems overcome with grief.)
SANTIAGO: So you married that clown after all, Pussikins. You’re not the romantic girl you led me to believe you were in your letters.
JUAN: (Uncomfortably) I know you haven’t seen him since we got married. And I’m not going to make any jealous scenes about him either. Have I ever done that? I trust you implicitly, my love. It’s just that … he came to see me.
(Turning towards SANTIAGO in surprise) You? But what a surprise, Victor! Come in, come in. Well, where did you spring from all of a sudden?
KATHIE: (Aside; transfixed with fear) Dear heavens! Victor! Victor! How could you have done such a thing! And all because of me, it was all my fault. You did do it because of me, didn’t you?
SANTIAGO: (Offering JUAN his hand) How are you, Johnny? You seem surprised to see me. Yes, I suppose it’s understandable. I don’t want to take up your time, I imagine you’re very busy. I just came to bring you these letters.
KATHIE: Yes, I’m sure it was because of me that you did it. I’ll never forgive myself, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. How are you? Are you miserable? Are you happy? Have you at least found peace of mind?
JUAN: (Leafing through the letters with increasing amazement) What are these letters? Why, they’re love letters. Letters from my wife to you. What does this mean, Victor? Why have you brought them here?
KATHIE: (Grief-stricken) Even if you’re in the furthest corner of the earth, ensconced behind walls of solid stone, even if we never see each other again, I’ll always be beside you, I’ll always be with you, Victor.
SANTIAGO: As a sign of friendship, Johnny. Pussikins is your wife now. I’m sure neither you nor she would like those letters to get into the wrong hands. She wrote them to me when she was my girlfriend. When you read them you’ll see that our relationship was always pure and innocent. I’ve brought you them, so you can tear them up or keep them, or do whatever you like with them.
KATHIE: (Very tenderly) With you I awaken at dead of night, the sky all aglow with myriad stars, having scarcely slept four hours on your mattress of straw, in that stark dank cell with its granite walls.
JUAN: (Becoming more and more bewildered) Ah, so that’s the reason … Look, I don’t quite know what to say to you. You’ve taken me rather by surprise. I … well, to tell you the truth, the fact is, I don’t really know what to say.
KATHIE: I meditate kneeling on icy stone floors in front of that skull which stares down upon us as much as to say, ‘I’m waiting for you.’ With you I weep for the evil men do, that has turned the world into a poisonous cesspool.
SANTIAGO: Well, you might at least thank me.
KATHIE: I scourge myself, and wear a hair shirt, and I try and try till my strength ebbs away, to atone for that boundless talent man has for harming himself and his fellow men.
JUAN: For these letters? Yes, of course, thank you very much. (Looking at him mistrustfully) But this must be some sort of a trick, Victor? Surely you’re pulling my leg?
KATHIE: With you I fast, in perpetual silence I live, barefoot I walk in the raw mid-winter and wear thick woollen garments in the searing summer heat. With you I till the soil with my own bare hands and with you I give succour and fodder to the rabbits.
SANTIAGO: No, Johnny, I’m not. I promise you.
KATHIE: With you I sing psalms to keep the world from splitting asunder and write eulogies to the wasp, the magnolia, the thistle, the fieldmouse, the laurel, the pollen and the ant.
JUAN: All right, I’m sorry. To tell you the truth, Victor, you’ve really rather thrown me. Well, I never! What a decent chap you are! Pussikins will be grateful to you as well. I’m sure she’d be quite upset if these letters were to go astray, now that she’s a married woman.
KATHIE: For you I’ve renounced the world of the serpent, the tawdry pomp, the anguish and the ulcers, for a life of slavery which to me is freedom, of martyrdom which is happiness, of death which is life.
SANTIAGO: That’s why I brought you them, I was thinking of her.
KATHIE: (Anxious, tense) And do you know why, Victor? Have you sensed it, have you guessed? Do you know?
JUAN: (Confidentially) You’ve taken a great weight off my mind, Victor. I thought you felt bitter about me, I thought you hated me.
KATHIE: Because I love you. Yes, yes, yes, Victor. I love you! I love you! I’ve always loved you! Always, always, always.
SANTIAGO: Why? Because Pussikins married you? What a fantastic notion, Johnny. I felt a bit hurt to begin with but then I got used to the idea. Now I think it was the best thing all round that she should have married you.
KATHIE: (Elated, ecstatic) Yes, what you hear is true. Your Adèle loves you, she has always loved you, and she always will love you. My master, my mentor, my guru, my lord and king. Oh, Victor, Victor.
JUAN: Of course, of course, I always thought so too. You and Pussikins are two very different people, you’d never have got on.