Scene Five


LIGHTS RISE on the screen upstage. To the tune of Oh, Madame Polenska, we see a series of newspapers with headlines reading: MADAME POLENSKA FLIES IN BALLOON, MADAME POLENSKA RETURNS FROM INDIA; MADAME POLENSKA ADDRESSES LEAGUE OF NATIONS, PLEADS FOR WORLD PEACE; D. W. GRIFFITH PLANS FILM ON LIFE OF MADAME POLENSKA. Each time there is a photograph of her, we can see Butch hovering somewhere in the background. This is superceded by a copy of a brand new book which reads: THE MASTERS REVISITED by MADAME FAINA POLENSKA. Then we are back in the garden of the spiritual center in upstate New York. Through the scene we hear what sounds like a chorus of hundreds singing Aum, Aum, Aum. MRS. FARGUESON and the COTTONWOOD SISTERS are hoeing, but one can see their minds are not on their work. ROSABELLE is weeding close by.

MRS. FARGUESON

 It's not the same. It's just not the same.

HAZEL

No, it isn't.

MRS. FARGUESON

Look at all those people! Hundreds of them.

HAZEL

She could care less about us now.

MRS. FARGUESON

When it came to redecorating, did she listen to me? Not for one second. She listened to people she hardly knew. And those communiqués from the Masters. They're written in her own hand.

HAZEL
                                 (placing a finger to her lips, indicating Rosabelle)

Rosabelle.   (MRS. FARGUESON, suddenly aware of Rosabelle, leads Hazel and Wilma further downstage, while lowering her voice.)
MRS. FARGUESON
It would take a ninny not to see it! And that so-called "body-guard". He's doing something with that body, and I wouldn't call it "guarding".

WILMA

Have you spoken to Charlotte about it?

MRS. FARGUESON

Don't be ridiculous. Charlotte thinks she walks on water.

HAZEL

And she mistreats Charlotte something awful.

MRS. FARGUESON

She mistreats everyone something awful...except Charles Atlas over there.

WILMA

I will say, though, I've learned a tremendous amount from her.

MRS. FARGUESON

So have I. Enough to start my own group.

HAZEL

Hesperia Fargueson...are you serious?

MRS. FARGUESON

Keep your voice down. Now this is my plan...
 
  (Music of I Am Captain of My Ship soars. LIGHTS DIM and RISE on a poster announcing in very large letters: MADAME POLENSKA AT TOWN HALL. Underneath in smaller letters: Madame Polenska Will Discourse and Show Movies of Her Trips to India, Bengal, Siberia and Ceylon, and Sign Copies of Her Latest Best-Selling Book, Letters From the Masters. Set slides on which represents the back stage area of Town Hall. IRENE is checking her costume, another rich sari, in a full-length mirror. BUTCH is upstage watching her. CHARLOTTE hurries on.)
CHARLOTTE
Oh, Madame, the house is sold out.

IRENE

What did you expect, idiot! It is Polenska.

CHARLOTTE

I've brought the projectionist. (SHE motions toward the wings, and HAYDEN WALTZINGER enters. HE is still attractive, but his hair has gone prematurely gray and his face shows a bit more lines.)
 

              CHARLOTTE

 Madame, this is Mr. Waltzinger. (HAYDEN blinks, furrows his brow and stares at Irene. The recognition on her part is so momentary, it passes too quickly to be noticeable. The orchestra has begun to play In the Spring of Our Youth.)
  IRENE Now I will be narrating as the film is being shown. When I hold up my hand like so, you will stop momentarily. When I hold up my hand in this fashion...Why you look at Polenska like that?

HAYDEN

For a moment you reminded me of someone.

IRENE

                                                                     (laughing)
Polenska reminds you of someone?! Impossible. Polenska is absolutely unique.  
  (But HE still stares at her. Inadvertent tears form at the corners of his eyes as the music builds to a climax. The projection booth at Town Hall slides into view. HAYDEN is facing stage left and working the hand-cranked projector, which throws off a flickering light. As HE cranks, he stares down through the projection hole.)
 
  HAYDEN Irene, Irene...
No, it can't be Irene,
She was so beautiful,
She was so svelte.
Irene, Irene,
I think of Irene,
And my insides melt.
I've no idea what she was selling me,
Whatever it was, I was sold;
I found out later that there was an Irene Jouvetz,
But she was six years old.
Can this be she---
That creature standing right down there
With a face like a Kabuki mask
And a mop of thinning, hennaed hair?

Can this be she---
The girl who vowed to be my wife,
Who would tell me how she loved me so,
Then left me cold and scarred for life?

Could she have got so fat and boozy?
Could she possibly dissemble so?
If it's not she, why am I woozy?
Why do my fingers tremble so?

Can this be she---
That creature standing on the stage?
Could this be what life is all about?
Is this the way we're meant to age?

Could she have got so fat and boozy?
Could she possibly dissemble so?
If it's not she, why am I woozy?
Why do my fingers tremble so?

Can this be she---
That creature standing on the stage?
Could this be what life is all about?
Is this the way we're meant to age?
 

LIGHTS FADE