THE GREAT GALEOTO
A monologue from the
play by Jose
Echegaray
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NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from Masterpieces of Modern Spanish Drama. Ed. Barrett
H. Clark. New York: Duffield & Co., 1917. |
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TEODORA: I am listening to you, and as I listen you
seem to me not like a mother, a sister, or a friend; your words
sound to me as though Satan were counselling you and inspiring
you and speaking through your lips. Why do you want to convince
me that my love for my husband is a lie--a lie of the soul--and
that a rival love is foully growing there, whose flame consumes
and defiles? Why, I love him as I have always loved him. I would
give the very last drop of that blood that runs through my veins
and sets me on fire, for a single instant of life for that man
from whom they separate me. I would go in there this very minute
if your husband would let me. And I would clasp Julian in my
arms and would bathe him with my tears, with such tender love
and such passion that his doubts would be consumed by the fire
of our souls. But just becuase I adore Julian, must I be so ungrateful
as to hate the noble and generous man who risked his life for
me? And if I don't hate him, must I love him? Heaven help me!
The world thinks such things. I hear such strange stories, I
see such sad things happen, I have such slanders heaped upon
me, that sometimes I begin to doubt myself and I ask myself in
horror: Am I, perhaps, what they all say I am? Do I nourish an
unlawful passion in the very depths of my being, consuming me
without my knowledge, and will the evil flame break out some
sad and ill-omened hour and overpower my will and my senses?
Listen, Mercedes ... I don't know how to convince you.
MORE
MONOLOGUES BY JOSE ECHEGARAY |
