Bird's nest, a fantasy in one actMygatt, Tracy D. (Tracy Dickinson)
Science
Bird's nest, a fantasy in one act
Mygatt, Tracy D. (Tracy Dickinson)
American drama -- 20th century; One-act plays
[_His head drops forward with a jerk. For an instant_, LYDIA
_bends and peers close into his face. Then, with a quick sigh
of relief._
LYDIA.
Come, Richard! Let us finish our dance.
[_Again, invisible violins take up the tune for the minuetting
lovers, and it is perhaps guided by this that_ MARTIN, _a
moment later, wistfully reënters the garden. But once there, he
goes swiftly to_ SANFORD _and bends over him_.
MARTIN.
[_After a quick glance._] Dead! Oh, my God! [_For a moment, with
incredulous eyes, he watches the delicate, rhythmic bending and
swaying of the young forms; then, with a smothered cry, he rushes
forward and raises indignant hands to stop them. And as, in their
grave and gay abandon they dance on_, MARTIN, _seeming to derive
fresh support from the backward glance he flings the body, tries to
catch_ LYDIA _by her curls_. MARTIN _indignantly_.] How dare you, you
little--little----
[_But, untouched_, LYDIA _glides past him, her light laughter
mingling with the wind. Then, as_ MARTIN _slinks back, beaten,
his eyes full of wonder, an impalpable tremor passes over the
garden. The violins fade; the moonlight shivers blue and chill,
and_ LYDIA _runs with a cry to_ RICHARD.
LYDIA.
Oh, my dearest--not yet! Not yet!
RICHARD.
[_Tremulously, holding her fast._] We had just begun! We had waited a
whole year!
LYDIA.
[_In a panic of longing._] Oh, Richard! Richard! The church clock has
struck! In a moment---- [_Pointing a trembling finger within._] our
clock!
RICHARD.
[_As the whirring noise begins that precedes the stroke._] My
darling--next year----
LYDIA.
[_As before._] Oh, stop it! Stop it! [_Her head against his breast._]
Oh, Richard, I--I haven’t seen the nursery yet!
[_Then, as the clock strikes ONE, her features change. She
gathers up her little prayer-book, slips a decorous, mitted
hand within the arm he gravely offers her, and together,
passing_ SANFORD’S _body without a glance, they turn away down
the little path_.
MARTIN.
[_Stepping forward and leaning over the body._] Too bad! [_Then, his
eyes young and wistful as they follow the retreating figures._] But
Bird’s Nest was built for lovers!
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Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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