Liliom

LILIOM

[Cast of First New York Production]

[Introduction]

[Synopsis of Scenes]

[Cast of Characters]

[The Prologue]

[Scene One]

[Scene Two]

[Scene Three]

[Scene Four]

[Scene Five]

[Scene Six]

[Scene Seven]

[Transcriber’s Note]

L I L I O M

A LEGEND IN SEVEN SCENES
AND A PROLOGUE

BY

FRANZ MOLNAR

ENGLISH TEXT AND INTRODUCTION BY

BENJAMIN F. GLAZER

HORACE LIVERIGHT
PUBLISHER NEW YORK

LILIOM

COPYRIGHTED, 1921, BY
UNITED PLAYS INC.

All rights reserved

First Printing, May, 1921
Second Printing, June, 1921
Third Printing, August, 1921
Fourth Printing, November, 1921
Fifth Printing, September, 1922
Sixth Printing, December, 1922
Seventh Printing, January, 1926
Eighth Printing, December, 1927
Ninth Printing, November, 1928

CAUTION—All persons are hereby warned that the plays published in this volume are fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States and all foreign countries, and are subject to royalty, and any one presenting any of said plays without the consent of the Author or his recognized agents, will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications for the acting rights must be made to the United Plays, Inc., 1428 Broadway, New York City.

Printed in the United States of America

As originally produced by The Theatre Guild, on the night of April 20, 1921, at the Garrick Theatre, New York City.

[CAST OF CHARACTERS]

(In the order of their appearance)

[INTRODUCTION]

The première of “LILIOM” at Budapest in December, 1909, left both playgoer and critic a bit bewildered. It was not the sort of play the Hungarian capital had been accustomed to expect of its favorite dramatist, whose THE DEVIL, after two years of unprecedented success, was still crowding the theatres of two continents.

One must, it was true, count on a touch of fantasy in every Molnar work. Never had he been wholly content with everyday reality, not in his stories, or in his sketches or in his earlier plays; and least of all in THE DEVIL wherein the natural and supernatural were most whimsically blended. But in LILIOM, it seemed, he had carried fantasy to quite unintelligible lengths. Budapest was frankly puzzled.

What did he mean by killing his hero in the fifth scene, taking him into Heaven in the sixth and bringing him back to earth in the seventh? Was this prosaic Heaven of his seriously or satirically intended? Was Liliom a saint or a common tough? And was his abortive redemption a symbol or merely a jibe? These were some of the questions Budapest debated while the play languished through thirty or forty performances and was withdrawn.

Almost ten years passed before it was revived. This time it was an immediate and overwhelming triumph. Perhaps the wide circulation of the play in printed form had made its beauty and significance clearer. Perhaps the tragedy of the war had made Molnar’s public more sensitive to spiritual values. Whatever the reason, Budapest now accepted ecstatically what it had previously rejected, and Molnar was more of a popular hero than ever. From which it may be gleaned that Hungary takes its drama and dramatists more seriously, disapproves them more passionately and praises them more affectionately than we Americans can conceive. In Paris I once saw an audience rise en masse, because the sculptor Rodin had entered the auditorium, and remain on its feet cheering until he had taken his seat. Something of the kind greets Molnar whenever he appears in public, and nothing is more certain than that he is the hero, the oracle, the spoiled darling of club, salon and coffee house in which artistic Hungary foregathers.

But the years immediately following the first production of LILIOM were for him a period of eclipse. It was the first time that even the threat of failure had cast its shadow across his career. He became timid, wary of failure, too anxious to please his public. His subsequent plays were less original, less daring, more faithful to routine. Never again did he touch the heights of LILIOM; and some of his best friends aver that he never will again until he has banished the dread of failure that obsesses him.

An odd situation, truly, and in some aspects a tragic one. Genius lacking the courage to spread its wings and soar. A potential immortal bidding fearfully for the praise of a coffee-house clique. Is it vanity? Is it abnormal sensitiveness? Biographical data cast little light on the enigma.

Franz Molnar was born in Budapest on January 12, 1878, the son of a wealthy Jewish merchant. He graduated from the Universities of Geneva and Budapest. His literary career was begun as a journalist at the age of eighteen. He wrote short sketches and humorous dialogues of such beauty and charm that he became a national figure almost at once, and the circulation of his newspaper increased until it was foremost in Budapest. Then he married Margaret Vaszi, the daughter of his editor, herself a journalist of note. Two years later he was divorced from her, and subsequently he married an actress who had played rôles in his own plays.

For a portrait of him as he is today you have to think of Oscar Wilde at the height of his glory. A big pudgy face, immobile, pink, smooth-shaven, its child-like expressionlessness accentuated by the monocle he always wears, though rather belied by the gleam of humor in his dark alert eyes. His hair is iron-gray, his figure stocky and of about medium height. A mordant wit, an inimitable raconteur, he loves life and gayety and all the luxuries of life. Nothing can persuade him out of his complacent and comfortable routine. He will not leave Budapest, even to attend the première of one of his plays in nearby Vienna. The post-war political upheaval which has rent all Hungary into two voluble and bitter factions left him quite unperturbed and neutral. His pen is not for politics.

Yet it is a singularly prolific pen. His novels and short stories are among the finest in Hungarian literature. He has written nine long plays and numerous short ones. A chronology of his more important dramatic works is as follows:

1902 A DOKTOR UR (The Doctor).

1904 JOZSI.

1907 AZ ÖRDÖG (The Devil).

1909 LILIOM.

1911 TESTÖR (Played in this country as “Where Ignorance is Bliss”).

1913 A FARKAS (Played in this country as “The Phantom Rival”).

1914 URIDIVAT (Attorney for Defence).

1919 A HATTYU (The Swan).

1920 SZINHAZ (Theatre: Three One-Act Plays).

Undoubtedly the greatest of these is LILIOM. Indeed, I know of no play written in our own time which matches the amazing virtuosity of LILIOM, its imaginative daring, its uncanny blending of naturalism and fantasy, humor and pathos, tenderness and tragedy into a solid dramatic structure. At first reading it may seem a mere improvization in many moods, but closer study must reveal how the moods are as inevitably related to each other as pearls on a string.

And where in modern dramatic literature can such pearls be matched—Julie incoherently confessing to her dead lover the love she had always been ashamed to tell; Liliom crying out to the distant carousel the glad news that he is to be a father; the two thieves gambling for the spoils of their prospective robbery; Marie and Wolf posing for their portrait while the broken-hearted Julie stands looking after the vanishing Liliom, the thieves’ song ringing in her ears; the two policemen grousing about pay and pensions while Liliom lies bleeding to death; Liliom furtively proffering his daughter the star he has stolen for her in heaven. . . . The temptation to count the whole scintillating string is difficult to resist.

What is the moral of LILIOM? Nothing you can reduce to a creed. Molnar is not a preacher or a propagandist for any theory of life. You will look in vain in his plays for moral or dogma. His philosophy—if philosophy you can call it—is always implicit. And nothing is plainer than that his picture of a courtroom in the beyond is neither devoutly nor satirically intended. Liliom’s Heaven is the Heaven of his own imagining. And what is more natural than that it should be an irrational jumble of priest’s purgatory, police magistrate’s justice and his own limited conception of good deeds and evil?

For those who hold that every fine dramatic architecture must have its spire of meaning, that by the very selection of character and incident the dramatist writes his commentary on life, there is still an explanation possible. Perhaps Molnar was at the old, old task of revaluing our ideas of good and evil. Perhaps he has only shown how the difference between a bully, a wife-beater and a criminal on the one hand and a saint on the other can be very slight. If one must tag LILIOM with a moral, I prefer to read mine in Liliom’s dying speech to Julie wherein he says: “Nobody’s right . . . but they all think they are right. . . . A lot they know.”

BENJAMIN F. GLAZER.

New York, April, 1921.

LILIOM

[SYNOPSIS OF SCENES]

[PROLOGUE]—An amusement park on the outskirts of Budapest.

[FIRST SCENE]—A lonely place in the park.

[SECOND SCENE]—The photographic studio of the HOLLUNDERS.

[THIRD SCENE]—Same as scene two.

[FOURTH SCENE]—A railroad embankment outside the city.

[FIFTH SCENE]—Same as scene two.

[SIXTH SCENE]—A courtroom in the beyond.

[SEVENTH SCENE]—JULIE’S garden.

There are intermissions only after the second and fifth scenes.

[CAST OF CHARACTERS]

• LILIOM
• JULIE
• MARIE
• MRS. MUSKAT
• LOUISE
• MRS. HOLLUNDER
• FICSUR
• YOUNG HOLLUNDER
• WOLF BEIFELD
• THE CARPENTER
• LINZMAN
• THE DOCTOR
• THE MAGISTRATE
• TWO MOUNTED POLICEMEN
• TWO PLAINCLOTHES POLICEMEN
• TWO HEAVENLY POLICEMEN
• THE RICHLY DRESSED MAN
• THE POORLY DRESSED MAN
• THE GUARD
• A SUBURBAN POLICEMAN

[THE PROLOGUE]

An amusement park on the outskirts of Budapest on a late afternoon in Spring. Barkers stand before the booths of the sideshows haranguing the passing crowd. The strident music of a calliope is heard; laughter, shouts, the scuffle of feet, the signal bells of merry-go-round.

The merry-go-round is at Center. LILIOM stands at the entrance, a cigarette in his mouth, coaxing the people in. The girls regard him with idolizing glances and screech with pleasure as he playfully pushes them through entrance. Now and then some girl’s escort resents the familiarity, whereupon LILIOM’S demeanor becomes ugly and menacing, and the cowed escort slinks through the entrance behind his girl or contents himself with a muttered resentful comment.

One girl hands LILIOM a red carnation; he rewards her with a bow and a smile. When the soldier who accompanies her protests, LILIOM cows him with a fierce glance and a threatening gesture. MARIE and JULIE come out of the crowd and LILIOM favors them with particular notice as they pass into the merry-go-round.

MRS. MUSKAT comes out of the merry-go-round, bringing LILIOM coffee and rolls. LILIOM mounts the barker’s stand at the entrance, where he is elevated over everyone on the stage. Here he begins his harangue. Everybody turns toward him. The other booths are gradually deserted. The tumult makes it impossible for the audience to hear what he is saying, but every now and then some witticism of his provokes a storm of laughter which is audible above the din. Many people enter the merry-go-round. Here and there one catches a phrase “Room for one more on the zebra’s back,” “Which of you ladies?” “Ten heller for adults, five for children,” “Step right up”——

It is growing darker. A lamplighter crosses the stage, and begins unperturbedly lighting the colored gas-lamps. The whistle of a distant locomotive is heard. Suddenly the tumult ceases, the lights go out, and the curtain falls in darkness.

END OF PROLOGUE

LILIOM

[SCENE ONE]

SCENE—A lonely place in the park, half hidden by trees and shrubbery. Under a flowering acacia tree stands a painted wooden bench. From the distance, faintly, comes the tumult of the amusement park. It is the sunset of the same day.

When the curtain rises the stage is empty.

MARIE enters quickly, pauses at center, and looks back.

MARIE

Julie, Julie! [There is no answer.] Do you hear me, Julie? Let her be! Come on. Let her be. [Starts to go back.]

[JULIE enters, looks back angrily.]

JULIE

Did you ever hear of such a thing? What’s the matter with the woman anyway?

MARIE

[Looking back again.] Here she comes again.

JULIE

Let her come. I didn’t do anything to her. All of a sudden she comes up to me and begins to raise a row.

MARIE

Here she is. Come on, let’s run. [Tries to urge her off.]

JULIE

Run? I should say not. What would I want to run for? I’m not afraid of her.

MARIE

Oh, come on. She’ll only start a fight.

JULIE

I’m going to stay right here. Let her start a fight.

MRS. MUSKAT

[Entering.] What do you want to run away for? [To JULIE.] Don’t worry. I won’t eat you. But there’s one thing I want to tell you, my dear. Don’t let me catch you in my carousel again. I stand for a whole lot, I have to in my business. It makes no difference to me whether my customers are ladies or the likes of you—as long as they pay their money. But when a girl misbehaves herself on my carousel—out she goes. Do you understand?

JULIE

Are you talking to me?

MRS. MUSKAT

Yes, you! You—chamber-maid, you! In my carousel——

JULIE

Who did anything in your old carousel? I paid my fare and took my seat and never said a word, except to my friend here.

MARIE

No, she never opened her mouth. Liliom came over to her of his own accord.

MRS. MUSKAT

It’s all the same. I’m not going to get in trouble with the police, and lose my license on account of you—you shabby kitchen maid!

JULIE

Shabby yourself.

MRS. MUSKAT

You stay out of my carousel! Letting my barker fool with you! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?

JULIE

What? What did you say?

MRS. MUSKAT

I suppose you think I have no eyes in my head. I see everything that goes on in my carousel. During the whole ride she let Liliom fool with her—the shameless hussy!

JULIE

He did not fool with me! I don’t let any man fool with me!

MRS. MUSKAT

He leaned against you all through the ride!

JULIE

He leaned against the panther. He always leans against something, doesn’t he? Everybody leans where he wants. I couldn’t tell him not to lean, if he always leans, could I? But he didn’t lay a hand on me.

MRS. MUSKAT

Oh, didn’t he? And I suppose he didn’t put his hand around your waist, either?

MARIE

And if he did? What of it?

MRS. MUSKAT

You hold your tongue! No one’s asking you—just you keep out of it.

JULIE

He put his arm around my waist—just the same as he does to all the girls. He always does that.

MRS. MUSKAT

I’ll teach him not to do it any more, my dear. No carryings on in my carousel! If you are looking for that sort of thing, you’d better go to the circus! You’ll find lots of soldiers there to carry on with!

JULIE

You keep your soldiers for yourself!

MARIE

Soldiers! As if we wanted soldiers!

MRS. MUSKAT

Well, I only want to tell you this, my dear, so that we understand each other perfectly. If you ever stick your nose in my carousel again, you’ll wish you hadn’t! I’m not going to lose my license on account of the likes of you! People who don’t know how to behave, have got to stay out!

JULIE

You’re wasting your breath. If I feel like riding on your carousel I’ll pay my ten heller and I’ll ride. I’d like to see anyone try to stop me!

MRS. MUSKAT

Just come and try it, my dear—just come and try it.

MARIE

We’ll see what’ll happen.

MRS. MUSKAT

Yes, you will see something happen that never happened before in this park.

JULIE

Perhaps you think you could throw me out!

MRS. MUSKAT

I’m sure of it, my dear.

JULIE

And suppose I’m stronger than you?

MRS. MUSKAT

I’d think twice before I’d dirty my hands on a common servant girl. I’ll have Liliom throw you out. He knows how to handle your kind.

JULIE

You think Liliom would throw me out.

MRS. MUSKAT

Yes, my dear, so fast that you won’t know what happened to you!

JULIE

He’d throw me—— [Stops suddenly, for MRS. MUSKAT has turned away. Both look off stage until LILIOM enters, surrounded by four giggling servant girls.]

LILIOM

Go away! Stop following me, or I’ll smack your face!

A LITTLE SERVANT GIRL

Well, give me back my handkerchief.

LILIOM

Go on now——

THE FOUR SERVANT GIRLS

[Simultaneously.] What do you think of him?—My handkerchief!—Give it back to her!—That’s a nice thing to do!

THE LITTLE SERVANT GIRL

[To MRS. MUSKAT.] Please, lady, make him——

MRS. MUSKAT

Oh, shut up!

LILIOM

Will you get out of here? [Makes a threatening gesture—the four servant girls exit in voluble but fearful haste.]

MRS. MUSKAT

What have you been doing now?

LILIOM

None of your business. [Glances at JULIE.] Have you been starting with her again?

JULIE

Mister Liliom, please——

LILIOM

[Steps threateningly toward her.] Don’t yell!

JULIE

[Timidly.] I didn’t yell.

LILIOM

Well, don’t. [To MRS. MUSKAT.] What’s the matter? What has she done to you?

MRS. MUSKAT

What has she done? She’s been impudent to me. Just as impudent as she could be! I put her out of the carousel. Take a good look at this innocent thing, Liliom. She’s never to be allowed in my carousel again!

LILIOM

[To JULIE.] You heard that. Run home, now.

MARIE

Come on. Don’t waste your time with such people. [Tries to lead JULIE away.]

JULIE

No, I won’t——

MRS. MUSKAT

If she ever comes again, you’re not to let her in. And if she gets in before you see her, throw her out. Understand?

LILIOM

What has she done, anyhow?

JULIE

[Agitated and very earnest.] Mister Liliom—tell me please—honest and truly—if I come into the carousel, will you throw me out?

MRS. MUSKAT

Of course he’ll throw you out.

MARIE

She wasn’t talking to you.

JULIE

Tell me straight to my face, Mister Liliom, would you throw me out? [They face each other. There is a brief pause.]

LILIOM

Yes, little girl, if there was a reason—but if there was no reason, why should I throw you out?

MARIE

[To MRS. MUSKAT.] There, you see!

JULIE

Thank you, Mister Liliom.

MRS. MUSKAT

And I tell you again, if this little slut dares to set her foot in my carousel, she’s to be thrown out! I’ll stand for no indecency in my establishment.

LILIOM

What do you mean—indecency?

MRS. MUSKAT

I saw it all. There’s no use denying it.

JULIE

She says you put your arm around my waist.

LILIOM

Me?

MRS. MUSKAT

Yes, you! I saw you. Don’t play the innocent.

LILIOM

Here’s something new! I’m not to put my arm around a girl’s waist any more! I suppose I’m to ask your permission before I touch another girl!

MRS. MUSKAT

You can touch as many girls as you want and as often as you want—for my part you can go as far as you like with any of them—but not this one—I permit no indecency in my carousel. [There is a long pause.]

LILIOM

[To MRS. MUSKAT.] And now I’ll ask you please to shut your mouth.

MRS. MUSKAT

What?

LILIOM

Shut your mouth quick, and go back to your carousel.

MRS. MUSKAT

What?

LILIOM

What did she do to you, anyhow? Tryin’ to start a fight with a little pigeon like that . . . just because I touched her?—You come to the carousel as often as you want to, little girl. Come every afternoon, and sit on the panther’s back, and if you haven’t got the price, Liliom will pay for you. And if anyone dares to bother you, you come and tell me.

MRS. MUSKAT

You reprobate!

LILIOM

Old witch!

JULIE

Thank you, Mister Liliom.

MRS. MUSKAT

You seem to think that I can’t throw you out, too. What’s the reason I can’t? Because you are the best barker in the park? Well, you are very much mistaken. In fact, you can consider yourself thrown out already. You’re discharged!

LILIOM

Very good.

MRS. MUSKAT

[Weakening a little.] I can discharge you any time I feel like it.

LILIOM

Very good, you feel like discharging me. I’m discharged. That settles it.

MRS. MUSKAT

Playing the high and mighty, are you? Conceited pig! Good-for-nothing!

LILIOM

You said you’d throw me out, didn’t you? Well, that suits me; I’m thrown out.

MRS. MUSKAT

[Softening.] Do you have to take up every word I say?

LILIOM

It’s all right; it’s all settled. I’m a good-for-nothing. And a conceited pig. And I’m discharged.

MRS. MUSKAT

Do you want to ruin my business?

LILIOM

A good-for-nothing? Now I know! And I’m discharged! Very good.

MRS. MUSKAT

You’re a devil, you are . . . and that woman——

LILIOM

Keep away from her!

MRS. MUSKAT

I’ll get Hollinger to give you such a beating that you’ll hear all the angels sing . . . and it won’t be the first time, either.

LILIOM

Get out of here. I’m discharged. And you get out of here.

JULIE

[Timidly.] Mister Liliom, if she’s willing to say that she hasn’t discharged you——

LILIOM

You keep out of this.

JULIE

[Timidly.] I don’t want this to happen on account of me.

LILIOM

[To MRS. MUSKAT, pointing to JULIE.] Apologize to her!

MARIE

A-ha!

MRS. MUSKAT

Apologize? To who?

LILIOM

To this little pigeon. Well—are you going to do it?

MRS. MUSKAT

If you give me this whole park on a silver plate, and all the gold of the Rothschilds on top of it—I’d—I’d—— Let her dare to come into my carousel again and she’ll get thrown out so hard that she’ll see stars in daylight!

LILIOM

In that case, dear lady [takes off his cap with a flourish], you are respectfully requested to get out o’ here as fast as your legs will carry you—I never beat up a woman yet—except that Holzer woman who I sent to the hospital for three weeks—but—if you don’t get out o’ here this minute, and let this little squab be, I’ll give you the prettiest slap in the jaw you ever had in your life.

MRS. MUSKAT

Very good, my son. Now you can go to the devil. Good-bye. You’re discharged, and you needn’t try to come back, either. [She exits. It is beginning to grow dark.]

MARIE

[With grave concern.] Mister Liliom——

LILIOM

Don’t you pity me or I’ll give you a slap in the jaw. [To JULIE.] And don’t you pity me, either.

JULIE

[In alarm.] I don’t pity you, Mister Liliom.

LILIOM

You’re a liar, you are pitying me. I can see it in your face. You’re thinking, now that Madame Muskat has thrown him out, Liliom will have to go begging. Huh! Look at me. I’m big enough to get along without a Madame Muskat. I have been thrown out of better jobs than hers.

JULIE

What will you do now, Mister Liliom?

LILIOM

Now? First of all, I’ll go and get myself—a glass of beer. You see, when something happens to annoy me, I always drink a glass of beer.

JULIE

Then you are annoyed about losing your job.

LILIOM

No, only about where I’m going to get the beer.

MARIE

Well—eh——

LILIOM

Well—eh—what?

MARIE

Well—eh—are you going to stay with us, Mister Liliom?

LILIOM

Will you pay for the beer? [MARIE looks doubtful; he turns to JULIE.] Will you? [She does not answer.] How much money have you got?

JULIE

[Bashfully.] Eight heller.

LILIOM

And you? [MARIE casts down her eyes and does not reply. LILIOM continues sternly.] I asked you how much you’ve got? [MARIE begins to weep softly.] I understand. Well, you needn’t cry about it. You girls stay here, while I go back to the carousel and get my clothes and things. And when I come back, we’ll go to the Hungarian beer-garden. It’s all right, I’ll pay. Keep your money. [He exits. MARIE and JULIE stand silent, watching him until he has gone.]

MARIE

Are you sorry for him?

JULIE

Are you?

MARIE

Yes, a little. Why are you looking after him in that funny way?

JULIE

[Sits down.] Nothing—except I’m sorry he lost his job.

MARIE

[With a touch of pride.] It was on our account he lost his job. Because he’s fallen in love with you.

JULIE

He hasn’t at all.

MARIE

[Confidently.] Oh, yes! he is in love with you. [Hesitantly, romantically.] There is someone in love with me, too.

JULIE

There is? Who?

MARIE

I—I never mentioned it before, because you hadn’t a lover of your own—but now you have—and I’m free to speak. [Very grandiloquently.] My heart has found its mate.

JULIE

You’re only making it up.

MARIE

No, it’s true—my heart’s true love——

JULIE

Who? Who is he?

MARIE

A soldier.

JULIE

What kind of a soldier?

MARIE

I don’t know. Just a soldier. Are there different kinds?

JULIE

Many different kinds. There are hussars, artillerymen, engineers, infantry—that’s the kind that walks—and——

MARIE

How can you tell which is which?

JULIE

By their uniforms.

MARIE

[After trying to puzzle it out.] The conductors on the street cars—are they soldiers?

JULIE

Certainly not. They’re conductors.

MARIE

Well, they have uniforms.

JULIE

But they don’t carry swords or guns.

MARIE

Oh! [Thinks it over again; then.] Well, policemen—are they?

JULIE

[With a touch of exasperation.] Are they what?

MARIE

Soldiers.

JULIE

Certainly not. They’re just policemen.

MARIE

[Triumphantly.] But they have uniforms—and they carry weapons, too.

JULIE

You’re just as dumb as you can be. You don’t go by their uniforms.

MARIE

But you said——

JULIE

No, I didn’t. A letter-carrier wears a uniform, too, but that doesn’t make him a soldier.

MARIE

But if he carried a gun or a sword, would he be——

JULIE

No, he’d still be a letter-carrier. You can’t go by guns or swords, either.

MARIE

Well, if you don’t go by the uniforms or the weapons, what do you go by?

JULIE

By—— [Tries to put it into words; fails; then breaks off suddenly.] Oh, you’ll get to know when you’ve lived in the city long enough. You’re nothing but a country girl. When you’ve lived in the city a year, like I have, you’ll know all about it.

MARIE

[Half angrily.] Well, how do you know when you see a real soldier?

JULIE

By one thing.

MARIE

What?

JULIE

One thing—— [She pauses. MARIE starts to cry.] Oh, what are you crying about?

MARIE

Because you’re making fun of me. . . . You’re a city girl, and I’m just fresh from the country . . . and how am I expected to know a soldier when I see one? . . . You, you ought to tell me, instead of making fun of me——

JULIE

All right. Listen then, cry-baby. There’s only one way to tell a soldier: by his salute! That’s the only way.

MARIE

[Joyfully; with a sigh of relief.] Ah—that’s good.

JULIE

What?

MARIE

I say—it’s all right then—because Wolf—Wolf—— [JULIE laughs derisively.] Wolf—that’s his name. [She weeps again.]

JULIE

Crying again? What now?

MARIE

You’re making fun of me again.

JULIE

I’m not. But when you say, “Wolf—Wolf—” like that, I have to laugh, don’t I? [Archly.] What’s his name again?

MARIE

I won’t tell you.

JULIE

All right. If you won’t say it, then he’s no soldier.

MARIE

I’ll say it.

JULIE

Go on.

MARIE

No, I won’t. [She weeps again.]

JULIE

Then he’s not a soldier. I guess he’s a letter-carrier——

MARIE

No—no—I’d rather say it.

JULIE

Well, then.

MARIE

[Giggling.] But you mustn’t look at me. You look the other way, and I’ll say it. [JULIE looks away, MARIE can hardly restrain her own laughter.] Wolf! [She laughs.] That’s his real name. Wolf, Wolf, Soldier—Wolf!

JULIE

What kind of a uniform does he wear?

MARIE

Red.

JULIE

Red trousers?

MARIE

No.

JULIE

Red coat?

MARIE

No.

JULIE

What then?

MARIE

[Triumphantly.] His cap!

JULIE

[After a long pause.] He’s just a porter, you dunce. Red cap . . . that’s a porter—and he doesn’t carry a gun or a sword, either.

MARIE

[Triumphantly.] But he salutes. You said yourself that was the only way to tell a soldier——

JULIE

He doesn’t salute at all. He only greets people——

MARIE

He salutes me. . . . And if his name is Wolf, that doesn’t prove he ain’t a soldier—he salutes, and he wears a red cap and he stands on guard all day long outside a big building——

JULIE

What does he do there?

MARIE

[Seriously.] He spits.

JULIE

[With contempt.] He’s nothing—nothing but a common porter.

MARIE

What’s Liliom?

JULIE

[Indignantly.] Why speak of him? What has he to do with me?

MARIE

The same as Wolf has to do with me. If you can talk to me like that about Wolf, I can talk to you about Liliom.

JULIE

He’s nothing to me. He put his arm around me in the carousel. I couldn’t tell him not to put his arm around me after he had done it, could I?

MARIE

I suppose you didn’t like him to do it?

JULIE

No.

MARIE

Then why are you waiting for him? Why don’t you go home?

JULIE

Why—eh—he said we were to wait for him.

[LILIOM enters. There is a long silence.]

LILIOM

Are you still here? What are you waiting for?

MARIE

You told us to wait.

LILIOM

Must you always interfere? No one is talking to you.

MARIE

You asked us—why we——

LILIOM

Will you keep your mouth shut? What do you suppose I want with two of you? I meant that one of you was to wait. The other can go home.

MARIE

All right.

JULIE

All right. [Neither starts to go.]

LILIOM

One of you goes home. [To MARIE.] Where do you work?

MARIE

At the Breier’s, Damjanovitsch Street, Number 20.

LILIOM

And you?

JULIE

I work there, too.

LILIOM

Well, one of you goes home. Which of you wants to stay? [There is no answer.] Come on, speak up, which of you stays?

MARIE

[Officiously.] She’ll lose her job if she stays.

LILIOM

Who will?

MARIE

Julie. She has to be back by seven o’clock.

LILIOM

Is that true? Will they discharge you if you’re not back on time?

JULIE

Yes.

LILIOM

Well, wasn’t I discharged?

JULIE

Yes—you were discharged, too.

MARIE

Julie, shall I go?

JULIE

I—can’t tell you what to do.

MARIE

All right—stay if you like.

LILIOM

You’ll be discharged if you do?

MARIE

Shall I go, Julie?

JULIE

[Embarrassed.] Why do you keep asking me that?

MARIE

You know best what to do.

JULIE

[Profoundly moved; slowly.] It’s all right, Marie, you can go home.

MARIE

[Exits reluctantly, but comes back, and says uncertainly.] Good-night. [She waits a moment to see if JULIE will follow her. JULIE does not move. MARIE exits. Meantime it has grown quite dark. During the following scene the gas-lamps far in the distance are lighted one by one. LILIOM and JULIE sit on the bench. From afar, very faintly, comes the music of a calliope. But the music is intermittently heard; now it breaks off, now it resumes again, as if it came down on a fitful wind. Blending with it are the sounds of human voices, now loud, now soft; the blare of a toy trumpet; the confused noises of the show-booths. It grows progressively darker until the end of the scene. There is no moonlight. The spring irridescence glows in the deep blue sky.]

LILIOM

Now we’re both discharged. [She does not answer. From now on they speak gradually lower and lower until the end of the scene, which is played almost in whispers. Whistles softly, then.] Have you had your supper?

JULIE

No.

LILIOM

Want to go eat something at the Garden?

JULIE

No.

LILIOM

Anywhere else?

JULIE

No.

LILIOM

[Whistles softly, then.] You don’t come to this park very often, do you? I’ve only seen you three times. Been here oftener than that?

JULIE

Oh, yes.

LILIOM

Did you see me?

JULIE

Yes.

LILIOM

And did you know I was Liliom?

JULIE

They told me.

LILIOM

[Whistles softly, then.] Have you got a sweetheart?

JULIE

No.

LILIOM

Don’t lie to me.

JULIE

I haven’t. If I had, I’d tell you. I’ve never had one.

LILIOM

What an awful liar you are. I’ve got a good mind to go away and leave you here.

JULIE

I’ve never had one.

LILIOM

Tell that to someone else.

JULIE

[Reproachfully.] Why do you insist I have?

LILIOM

Because you stayed here with me the first time I asked you to. You know your way around, you do.

JULIE

No, I don’t, Mister Liliom.

LILIOM

I suppose you’ll tell me you don’t know why you’re sitting here—like this, in the dark, alone with me—You wouldn’t ’a’ stayed so quick, if you hadn’t done it before—with some soldier, maybe. This isn’t the first time. You wouldn’t have been so ready to stay if it was—what did you stay for, anyhow?

JULIE

So you wouldn’t be left alone.

LILIOM

Alone! God, you’re dumb! I don’t need to be alone. I can have all the girls I want. Not only servant girls like you, but cooks and governesses, even French girls. I could have twenty of them if I wanted to.

JULIE

I know, Mister Liliom.

LILIOM

What do you know?

JULIE

That all the girls are in love with you. But that’s not why I stayed. I stayed because you’ve been so good to me.

LILIOM

Well, then you can go home.

JULIE

I don’t want to go home now.

LILIOM

And what if I go away and leave you sitting here?

JULIE

If you did, I wouldn’t go home.

LILIOM

Do you know what you remind me of? A sweetheart I had once—I’ll tell you how I met her—— One night, at closing time, we had put out the lights in the carousel, and just as I was—— [He is interrupted by the entrance of two plainclothes POLICEMEN. They take their stations on either side of the bench. They are police, searching the park for vagabonds.]

FIRST POLICEMAN

What are you doing there?

LILIOM

Me?

SECOND POLICEMAN

Stand up when you’re spoken to! [He taps LILIOM imperatively on the shoulder.]

FIRST POLICEMAN

What’s your name?

LILIOM

Andreas Zavoczki. [JULIE begins to weep softly.]

SECOND POLICEMAN

Stop your bawling. We’re not goin’ to eat you. We are only making our rounds.

FIRST POLICEMAN

See that he doesn’t get away. [THE SECOND POLICEMAN steps closer to LILIOM.] What’s your business?

LILIOM

Barker and bouncer.

SECOND POLICEMAN

They call him Liliom, Chief. We’ve had him up a couple of times.

FIRST POLICEMAN

So that’s who you are! Who do you work for now?

LILIOM

I work for the widow Muskat.

FIRST POLICEMAN

What are you hanging around here for?

LILIOM

We’re just sitting here—me and this girl.

FIRST POLICEMAN

Your sweetheart?

LILIOM

No.

FIRST POLICEMAN

[To JULIE.] And who are you?

JULIE

Julie Zeller.

FIRST POLICEMAN

Servant girl?

JULIE

Maid of All Work for Mister Georg Breier, Number Twenty Damjanovitsch Street.

FIRST POLICEMAN

Show your hands.

SECOND POLICEMAN

[After examining JULIE’S hand.] Servant girl.

FIRST POLICEMAN

Why aren’t you at home? What are you doing out here with him?

JULIE

This is my day out, sir.

FIRST POLICEMAN

It would be better for you if you didn’t spend it sitting around with a fellow like this.

SECOND POLICEMAN

They’ll be disappearing in the bushes as soon as we turn our backs.

FIRST POLICEMAN

He’s only after your money. We know this fine fellow. He picks up you silly servant girls and takes what money you have. Tomorrow you’ll probably be coming around to report him. If you do, I’ll throw you out.

JULIE

I haven’t any money, sir.

FIRST POLICEMAN

Do you hear that, Liliom?

LILIOM

I’m not looking for her money.

SECOND POLICEMAN

[Nudging him warningly.] Keep your mouth shut.

FIRST POLICEMAN

It is my duty to warn you, my child, what kind of company you’re in. He makes a specialty of servant girls. That’s why he works in a carousel. He gets hold of a girl, promises to marry her, then he takes her money and her ring.

JULIE

But I haven’t got a ring.

SECOND POLICEMAN

You’re not to talk unless you’re asked a question.

FIRST POLICEMAN

You be thankful that I’m warning you. It’s nothing to me what you do. I’m not your father, thank God. But I’m telling you what kind of a fellow he is. By tomorrow morning you’ll be coming around to us to report him. Now you be sensible and go home. You needn’t be afraid of him. This officer will take you home if you’re afraid.

JULIE

Do I have to go?

FIRST POLICEMAN

No, you don’t have to go.

JULIE

Then I’ll stay, sir.

FIRST POLICEMAN

Well, you’ve been warned.

JULIE

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

FIRST POLICEMAN

Come on, Berkovics. [The POLICEMEN exit. JULIE and LILIOM sit on the bench again. There is a brief pause.]

JULIE

Well, and what then?

LILIOM

[Fails to understand.] Huh?

JULIE

You were beginning to tell me a story.

LILIOM

Me?

JULIE

Yes, about a sweetheart. You said, one night, just as they were putting out the lights of the carousel—— That’s as far as you got.

LILIOM

Oh, yes, yes, just as the lights were going out, someone came along—a little girl with a big shawl—you know—— She came—eh—from—— Say—tell me—ain’t you—that is, ain’t you at all—afraid of me? The officer told you what kind of a fellow I am—and that I’d take your money away from you——

JULIE

You couldn’t take it away—I haven’t got any. But if I had—I’d—I’d give it to you—I’d give it all to you.

LILIOM

You would?

JULIE

If you asked me for it.

LILIOM

Have you ever had a fellow you gave money to?

JULIE

No.

LILIOM

Haven’t you ever had a sweetheart?

JULIE

No.

LILIOM

Someone you used to go walking with. You’ve had one like that?

JULIE

Yes.

LILIOM

A soldier?

JULIE

He came from the same village I did.

LILIOM

That’s what all the soldiers say. Where do you come from, anyway?

JULIE

Not far from here. [There is a pause.]

LILIOM

Were you in love with him?

JULIE

Why do you keep asking me that all the time, Mister Liliom? I wasn’t in love with him. We only went walking together.

LILIOM

Where did you walk?

JULIE

In the park.

LILIOM

And your virtue? Where did you lose that?

JULIE

I haven’t got any virtue.

LILIOM

Well, you had once.

JULIE

No, I never had. I’m a respectable girl.

LILIOM

Yes, but you gave the soldier something.

JULIE

Why do you question me like that, Mister Liliom?

LILIOM

Did you give him something?

JULIE

You have to. But I didn’t love him.

LILIOM

Do you love me?

JULIE

No, Mister Liliom.

LILIOM

Then why do you stay here with me?

JULIE

Um—nothing. [There is a pause. The music from afar is plainly heard.]

LILIOM

Want to dance?

JULIE

No. I have to be very careful.

LILIOM

Of what?

JULIE

My—character.

LILIOM

Why?

JULIE

Because I’m never going to marry. If I was going to marry, it would be different. Then I wouldn’t need to worry so much about my character. It doesn’t make any difference if you’re married. But I shan’t marry—and that’s why I’ve got to take care to be a respectable girl.

LILIOM

Suppose I were to say to you—I’ll marry you.

JULIE

You?

LILIOM

That frightens you, doesn’t it? You’re thinking of what the officer said and you’re afraid.

JULIE

No, I’m not, Mister Liliom. I don’t pay any attention to what he said.

LILIOM

But you wouldn’t dare to marry anyone like me, would you?

JULIE

I know that—that—if I loved anyone—it wouldn’t make any difference to me what he—even if I died for it.

LILIOM

But you wouldn’t marry a rough guy like me—that is,—eh—if you loved me——

JULIE

Yes, I would—if I loved you, Mister Liliom. [There is a pause.]

LILIOM

[Whispers.] Well,—you just said—didn’t you?—that you don’t love me. Well, why don’t you go home then?

JULIE

It’s too late now, they’d all be asleep.

LILIOM

Locked out?

JULIE

Certainly. [They are silent a while.]

LILIOM

I think—that even a low-down good-for-nothing—can make a man of himself.

JULIE

Certainly. [They are silent again. A lamp-lighter crosses the stage, lights the lamp over the bench, and exits.]

LILIOM

Are you hungry?

JULIE

No. [Another pause.]

LILIOM

Suppose—you had some money—and I took it from you?

JULIE

Then you could take it, that’s all.

LILIOM

[After another brief silence.] All I have to do—is go back to her—that Muskat woman—she’ll be glad to get me back—then I’d be earning my wages again. [She is silent. The twilight folds darker about them.]

JULIE

[Very softly.] Don’t go back—to her—— [Pause.]

LILIOM

There are a lot of acacia trees around here. [Pause.]

JULIE

Don’t go back to her—— [Pause.]

LILIOM

She’d take me back the minute I asked her. I know why—she knows, too—— [Pause.]

JULIE

I can smell them, too—acacia blossoms—— [There is a pause. Some blossoms drift down from the tree-top to the bench. LILIOM picks one up and smells it.]

LILIOM

White acacias!

JULIE

[After a brief pause.] The wind brings them down. [They are silent. There is a long pause before]

THE CURTAIN FALLS

[SCENE TWO]

SCENE—A photographer’s “studio,” operated by the HOLLUNDERS, on the fringe of the park. It is a dilapidated hovel. The general entrance is Back Left. Back Right there is a window with a sofa before it. The outlook is on the amusement park with perhaps a small Ferris-wheel or the scaffolding of a “scenic-railway” in the background.

The door to the kitchen is up Left and a black-curtained entrance to the dark room is down Left. Just in front of the dark room stands the camera on its tripod. Against the back wall, between the door and window, stands the inevitable photographer’s background-screen, ready to be wheeled into place.

It is forenoon. When the curtain rises, MARIE and JULIE are discovered.

MARIE

And he beat up Hollinger?

JULIE

Yes, he gave him an awful licking.

MARIE

But Hollinger is bigger than he is.

JULIE

He licked him just the same. It isn’t size that counts, you know, it’s cleverness. And Liliom’s awful quick.

MARIE

And then he was arrested?

JULIE

Yes, they arrested him, but they let him go the next day. That makes twice in the two months we’ve been living here that Liliom’s been arrested and let go again.

MARIE

Why do they let him go?

JULIE

Because he is innocent.

[MOTHER HOLLUNDER, a very old woman, sharp-tongued, but in reality quite warm-hearted beneath her formidable exterior, enters at back carrying a few sticks of firewood, and scolding, half to herself.]

MOTHER HOLLUNDER

Always wanting something, but never willing to work for it. He won’t work, and he won’t steal, but he’ll use up a poor old widow’s last bit of firewood. He’ll do that cheerfully enough! A big, strong lout like that lying around all day resting his lazy bones! He ought to be ashamed to look decent people in the face.

JULIE

I’m sorry, Mother Hollunder. . . .

MOTHER HOLLUNDER

Sorry! Better be sorry the lazy good-for-nothing ain’t in jail where he belongs instead of in the way of honest, hard-working people. [She exits into the kitchen.]

MARIE

Who’s that?

JULIE

Mrs. Hollunder—my aunt. This is her [with a sweeping gesture that takes in the camera, dark room and screen] studio. She lets us live here for nothing.

MARIE

What’s she fetching the wood for?

JULIE

She brings us everything we need. If it weren’t for her I don’t know what would become of us. She’s a good-hearted soul even if her tongue is sharp. [There is a pause.]

MARIE

[Shyly.] Do you know—I’ve found out. He’s not a soldier.

JULIE

Do you still see him?

MARIE

Oh, yes.

JULIE

Often?

MARIE

Very often. He’s asked me——

JULIE

To marry you?

MARIE

To marry me.

JULIE

You see—that proves he isn’t a soldier. [There is another pause.]

MARIE

[Abashed, yet a bit boastfully.] Do you know what I’m doing—I’m flirting with him.

JULIE

Flirting?

MARIE

Yes. He asks me to go to the park—and I say I can’t go. Then he coaxes me, and promises me a new scarf for my head if I go. But I don’t go—even then. . . . So then he walks all the way home with me—and I bid him good-night at the door.

JULIE

Is that what you call flirting?

MARIE

Um-hm! It’s sinful, but it’s so thrilling.

JULIE

Do you ever quarrel?

MARIE

[Grandly.] Only when our Passionate Love surges up.

JULIE

Your passionate love?

MARIE

Yes. . . . He takes my hand and we walk along together. Then he wants to swing hands, but I won’t let him. I say: “Don’t swing my hand”; and he says, “Don’t be so stubborn.” And then he tries to swing my hand again, but still I don’t let him. And for a long time I don’t let him—until in the end I let him. Then we walk along swinging hands—up and down, up and down—just like this. That is Passionate Love. It’s sinful, but it’s awfully thrilling.

JULIE

You’re happy, aren’t you?

MARIE

Happier than—anything—— But the most beautiful thing on earth is Ideal Love.

JULIE

What kind is that?

MARIE

Daylight comes about three in the morning this time of the year. When we’ve been up that long we’re all through with flirting and Passionate Love—and then our Ideal Love comes to the surface. It comes like this: I’ll be sitting on the bench and Wolf, he holds my hand tight—and he puts his cheek against my cheek and we don’t talk . . . we just sit there very quiet. . . . And after a while he gets sleepy, and his head sinks down, and he falls asleep . . . but even in his sleep he holds tight to my hand. And I—I sit perfectly still just looking around me and taking long, deep breaths—for by that time it’s morning and the trees and flowers are fresh with dew. But Wolf doesn’t smell anything because he’s so fast asleep. And I get awfully sleepy myself, but I don’t sleep. And we sit like that for a long time. That is Ideal Love—— [There is a long pause.]

JULIE

[Regretfully; uneasily.] He went out last night and he hasn’t come home yet.

MARIE

Here are sixteen Kreuzer. It was supposed to be carfare to take my young lady to the conservatory—eight there and eight back—but I made her walk. Here—save it with the rest.

JULIE

This makes three gulden, forty-six.

MARIE

Three gulden, forty-six.

JULIE

He won’t work at all.

MARIE

Too lazy?

JULIE

No. He never learned a trade, you see, and he can’t just go and be a day-laborer—so he just does nothing.

MARIE

That ain’t right.

JULIE

No. Have the Breiers got a new maid yet?

MARIE

They’ve had three since you left. You know, Wolf’s going to take a new job. He’s going to work for the city. He’ll get rent free, too.

JULIE

He won’t go back to work at the carousel either. I ask him why, but he won’t tell me—— Last Monday he hit me.

MARIE

Did you hit him back?

JULIE

No.

MARIE

Why don’t you leave him?

JULIE

I don’t want to.

MARIE

I would. I’d leave him. [There is a strained silence.]

MOTHER HOLLUNDER

[Enters, carrying a pot of water; muttering aloud.] He can play cards, all right. He can fight, too; and take money from poor servant girls. And the police turn their heads the other way—— The carpenter was here.

JULIE

Is that water for the soup?

MOTHER HOLLUNDER

The carpenter was here. There’s a man for you! Dark, handsome, lots of hair, a respectable widower with two children—and money, and a good paying business.

JULIE

[To MARIE.] It’s three gulden sixty-six, not forty-six.

MARIE

Yes, that’s what I make it—sixty-six.

MOTHER HOLLUNDER

He wants to take her out of this and marry her. This is the fifth time he’s been here. He has two children, but——

JULIE

Please don’t bother, Aunt Hollunder, I’ll get the water myself.

MOTHER HOLLUNDER

He’s waiting outside now.

JULIE

Send him away.