The Silence of the Sea adapted from a short story by Vercors
CHARACTERS
WERNER VON EBRENNAC, A GERMAN SOLDIER
A FRENCH MAN
HIS NIECE
(The stage is dark. The French man is seated at the back of the room. The niece is almost at the doorway. Extremely slowly, so slowly the audience can barely perceive it, the lights go up while the narrative is the only thing heard by the audience. It is the French man's voice:)
MAN'S NARRATIVE: "Military precautions were taken before he arrived. Before he arrived at our doorstep. First it had been two troopers; one scrawny, one brawny. Then an N.C.O. came with the skinny trooper and tried to speak to me in what they thought was French. I couldn't make out a single word, though, and the next morning a large touring-car drove up. Two men brought two packing-cases and a large bundle up to the largest room and then left. I heard hoofbeats a few hours later. Three horsemen appeared in the straw-stuffed attic and left the next morning. This continued for two days. Then, on the morning of the third day, the touring-car came back and a large officer's suitcase was taken up to the room by a smiling young man. That night, he came downstairs to ask my niece for some sheets. My niece heard the knock just after she'd brought me my evening coffee. She looked at me, went to the door, then waited. In silence."
(By this point, the lights are finally up, and the niece slowly opens the door to reveal Werner von Ebrennac. She pulls the door right back to the wall not looking at him. The French man is sipping his coffee. von Ebrennac judges the silences then speaks.)
von Ebrennac: If you please. (He enters. He gives a military salute and takes off his cap. He turns to the niece, smiles, and bows slightly. He then faces the French man and makes a deeper bow.) My name is Werner von Ebrennac. I am extremely sorry.
(Silence. The niece has closed the door and is still leaning against the wall. The French man puts his coffee down, crosses his hands and waits. Silence.)
von Ebrennac: It had to be done, of course. I would have avoided it if I could. I am sure my orderly will do his best not to disturb you.
(He stands in the middle of the room. The silence resumes. The niece remains immobile, as does the French man. As a result, von Ebrennac stands motionless. Finally, a smile begins to form on von Ebrennac's face. It is a serious smile. He turns his eyes away from them, and stares at the fire.)
von Ebrennac: I feel a very deep respect for people who love their country. (He raises his head suddenly and looks at a carved angel over the window.) I could go up to my room now, but I don't know the way.
(The niece opens the door without looking at von Ebrennac, as if she had been alone. He leaves. The sound of his walk can be heard, it is a limp. Off in the distance, a door is opened and closed again. The niece returns to the French man. She picks up her cup and drinks it slowly. The French man lights a pipe and then a prolonged silence.)
French man: Thank the Lord he looks fairly decent.
(The niece shrugs her shoulders.)
(Blackout.)
___________________________
(Lights up, it is morning. The officer is heard coming down a set of stairs while the French man and the niece are having breakfast in the kitchen. He stops in the doorway.)
von Ebrennac: I have had a very good night. I should hope yours was as good as mine.
(Quiet ensues. von Ebrennac does the following actions as they are stated.)
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"He looked round the huge room with a smile. As we had very little wood and less coal, I had repainted it, we had brought in some furniture some copper pans and old plates, so as to shut ourselves in there for the winter. He took all of this in at once, and we caught the sparkle of the edge of his very white teeth. I noticed his eyes. They were not blue as I had originally thought, but a golden brown. He finally took a couple of steps and turned back to inspect our long low house with its old brown tiles and the many creepers. Then, once again, he smiled."
von Ebrennac: Your old mayor had told me I was to stay at the Château... I shall congratulate my men on their mistake though. Here it is a much more beautiful château.
(von Ebrennac salutes and leaves. Lights fade while the French man's voice is heard.)
___________________________
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"Then he disappeared. That evening he came back while we were having coffee, at the same time as before. He knocked and opened the door. He said to us, 'I am afraid I am disturbing you. If you would rather, I will come in through the kitchen; then you can keep this door locked. I wish you a very good night.' Then he went out. We never locked the door. I am not sure why we neglected to do so. My niece and I though, in silent agreement, had decided to carry on with our lives as if the officer didn't exist. As if he had been a ghost. Ignoring von Ebrennac seemed awkward though. I realized I can't hurt anyone's feelings intentionally, even my enemy's, without suffering myself. However, for more than a month, the same scene took place every day. The officer knocked and came in, spoke of the weather or some other equally irrelevant subject every day, lingered a moment at the door and looked around me. Then a ghost of a smile would haunt his face, his eyes would rest on my niece in smiling approval, and then he would leave, saying, 'I wish you a very good night.' But everything suddenly changed one cold and damp evening. He was late. It was beyond his usual time, and it annoyed me to realize how my thoughts were taken up with him. We finally heard steps originating from inside the house. I recognized the officer's uneven tread. He had apparently changed out of the wet uniform so as not to appear unimpressive."
(von Ebrennac opens the door without knocking. He is wearing "a pair of thick grey flannel trousers and a steel-blue tweed coat with a warm brown check." It is "large and loose-fitting.")
von Ebrennac: Excuse me. I'm feeling cold. I got wet though, and my room is very chilly. I will warm myself at your fire for a few minutes.
(von Ebrennac crouches down by the hearth and puts out his hands.)
von Ebrennac: That's fine. (He moves to warm his back to the fire.) Here it's nothing. Winter in France is a mild season. Where I come from, it's very hard. Very. The trees are all firs, close-packed forests with the snow heavy on them. Here the trees are delicate, and the snow on them is like lace. My home reminds me of a powerful thickset bull which needs all its strength to keep alive. Here everything is intelligence, and subtle poetic thought.
(Silence. von Ebrennac gets up.)
von Ebrennac: I have always loved France. Always. I was only a child in the last war, and what I thought then doesn't count. But ever since I have always loved it -- only it was from a distance, like the Princesse Lointaine. (Pause.) Because of my father. (Pause.) Because of my father. He was intensely patriotic. The defeat was a great blow to him. And yet he loved France. He liked Briand, he believed in the Weimar Republic and in Briand, and he was very enthusiastic. He used to say, 'He is going to unite us like husband and wife.' He thought the sun was going to rise over Europe at last.
(He looks at the niece as if she were "a statue".)
von Ebrennac: But Briand was defeated. My father saw that France was still led by your heartless bourgeois -- by people like your De Wendels, your Henri Bordeaux, and your old Marshal. He said to me, 'You must never go to France till you can do it in field-boots and a helmet.' I had to promise that, for he was nearly dying, and when war broke out I knew the whole of Europe except France. (He smiles.) I am a musician, you see. (He goes to the fire and props it.) I am not a performer. I am a composer. That is my whole life, and so it's comical for me to see myself as a man of war. And yet I don't regret this war. No. I think that great things will come of it.
(He straightens himself and takes his hands out of his pockets.)
von Ebrennac: Forgive me: I may have said something to hurt you. But I was saying what I think, and with sincere good feeling. I feel it because of my love of France. Great things will come of it for Germany and for France. I think, as my father did, that the sun is going to shine over Europe. (Silence.) I wish you a very good night.
(von Ebrennac leaves. The French man sits in silence, perhaps smoking a pipe, then finally coughs.)
French man: It's perhaps too rude to refuse him even a hint of an answer.
(The niece raises her head and her eyebrows but says nothing. Her voiceover resumes as the lights fade. It is prerecorded and played in darkness.)
___________________________
NIECE'S NARRATIVE:"From that day his visits took on a new shape. He rarely wore his uniform. He would change and then knock on our door. At times I thought his reasons for such a decision were either to spare us the sight of the enemy's uniform or to make us forget it altogether and have us warm up to his personality. Perhaps it was both reasons. He would typically knock then immediately enter, as he knew we would not be providing him with an answer. We were never fooled by his excuse that he wanted to warm himself by the fire, but he did it so simply and naturally that it seemed more harmless in its useful conventionality. He did not come every night, but when he did come he always made a point to talk to us before he left. He provided us with endless monologues about his country, music, France, and all other subjects filling his mind. He did not once try to get an answer from us, a sign of agreement, a glance, nothing. At first he spoke only for a short period of time. Eventually he revealed a great deal more..."
(von Ebrennac enters and goes to the fire.
von Ebrennac: What is the difference between the fire in my home and this one here? Certainly the wood, the flame, and the fireplace are exactly alike. But not the light. That depends on the things on which it shines -- the people in this smoking-room, the furniture, the walls, and the books on their shelves... Why am I so fond of this room? It's not particularly beautiful -- Oh, excuse me! (He laughs.) I mean to say it's not a museum piece... Take your furniture: it does not make one say, 'What lovely things!' No. And yet this room has a soul. All this house has a soul.
(von Ebrennac stands and goes to the bookcase, touching the titles with his finger as he reads them out.)
von Ebrennac: Balzac, Barrès, Baudelaire, Beaumarchais, Boileau, Buffon, Chateaubriand, Corneille, Descartes, Fénelon, Flaubert... La Fontaine, France, Gautier, Hugo... what a role-call! (He shakes his head.) And I've only got as far as the letter 'H'! Not to Molière, Rabelais, Racine, Pascal, Stendhal, Voltaire, Montaigne, or any of the others. (He continues skimming over titles.) With the English, one immediately thinks of Shakespeare; with the Italians it is Dante. Spain: Cervantes. And with us at once: Goethe. After that one has to stop and consider. But if someone says, 'And France?' then who comes to the tip of one's tongue? Molière? Racine? Hugo? Voltaire? Rabelais? Or which of the others? They jostle each other like the crowd at the entrance to a theatre till you don't know which to let in first. (He turns around.) But when it comes to music, then it's our turn: Bach, Handel, Beethoven, Wagner, Mozart... Which name comes first? (Long silence. Then, slowly...) And now we are at war with each other. (He shakes his head then looks at the niece.) But this is the last time! We won't fight each other any more. We'll get married! (He smiles.) Yes, yes. (Silence.) When we entered Saintes, I was happy that the population received us well. I was very happy. I thought: This is going to be easy. And then I saw that it was not that at all, that it was cowardice. (He is solemn.) I despised those people, and for France's sake I was afraid. I thought: Has she really got like that? No, no, I have seen her since, and now I am happy at her stern expression.
(von Ebrennac looks at the French man, who looks away.)
von Ebrennac: I am happy to have found here an elderly man with some dignity, and a young lady who knows how to be silent. We have got to conquer the silence of all France. I am glad of that.
(von Ebrennac looks at the niece, who begins to blush.)
von Ebrennac: Yes. It's better that way. Much better. That makes for a solid union -- for unions where both sides gain in greatness... There is a very lovely children's story which I have read, which you have read, which everybody has read. I don't know if it has the same title in both countries. With us it's called 'Das Tier und die Schöne' -- 'Beauty and the Beast'. Poor Beauty! The Beast holds her at his pleasure, captive and powerless -- at every hour of the day he forces his oppressive and relentless presence on her... Beauty is all pride and dignity -- she has hardened her heart... But the Beast is something better than he seems. Oh, he's not very polished, he's clumsy and brutal, he seems very uncouth besides his exquisite Beauty! But he has a heart. Yes, he has a heart which hopes to raise itself up... If Beauty only would! But it is a long time before Beauty will. However, little by little she discovers the light at the back of the eyes of her hated jailer -- the light which reveals his supplication and his love. She is less conscious of his heavy hand and of the chains of her prison... She ceases to hate him. His constancy moves her, she gives him her hand... At once the Beast is transformed, the spell which has kept him in that brutish hide is broken: and now behold a handsome and chivalrous knight, sensitive and cultivated, whom every kiss from his Beauty adorns with more and more shining qualities! Their union gives them the most perfect happiness. Their children, who combine and mingle the gifts of their parents, are the loveliest the earth has borne... Weren't you fond of this story? For my part, I always loved it. I have reread it over and over again. It used to make me cry. I loved the Beast above all because I understood his misery. Even today I am moved when I speak of it. (Silence. He takes a deep breath.) I wish you a very good night.
(Blackout. Eighth Prelude and Fugue is heard.)
___________________________
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"One evening I'd gone up to my room to look for my tobacco and I heard someone playing the 'Eighth Prelude and Fugue', which my niece had been practising before the catastrophe. The book was left opened to that page, but my niece had been unable to bring herself to play it. Until now. I was both pleased and astonished. What made her change her mind so suddenly? But then I turned and saw her sitting in her armchair as always. She looked at me but I couldn't tell what she was feeling. He only played the Prelude, then he got up and came back to the fire."
von Ebrennac(whispering): There is nothing greater than that. Great -- that's not quite the word. Outside man -- outside human flesh. That makes us understand, no, not understand but guess... No: have a presentiment... have a presentiment of what nature is... of what -- stripped bare -- is the divine and unknowable nature of the human soul. Yes, it's human music. Bach... he could only be a German. Our country has that character; that inhuman character. I mean -- by 'inhuman' -- that which is on a different scale to man. (Pause.) That kind of music -- I love it, I admire it, it overwhelms me; it's like the presence of God in me... but it's not my own. For my part, I would also like to compose music which is on the scale of man; that also is a road by which one can reach the truth. That's my road. I don't want to follow any other, and besides I couldn't. That, I know now; I know it to the full. Since when? Since I have lived here. (He turns his back. His voice is low.) Now I really need France. But I ask a great deal; I ask a welcome from her. To be here as a stranger, as a traveller or a conqueror, that's nothing. France gives nothing then, for there is nothing one can take from her. Her riches, her true riches, one can't conquer; one can only drink them in at her breast. She has to offer you her breast, like a mother, in a movement of maternal feeling... I know that depends on us... but it depends on her too. She must consent to understand our thirst, she must consent to quench it, and she must consent to unite herself with us. (Pause.) As for me, I must live here for a long time. In a house like this one. As a child of a village like this village... I must...
(He is silent. He turns towards the French man and the niece and smiles.)
von Ebrennac: We will overcome all obstacles. Sincerity is bound to overcome all obstacles. I wish you a very good night!
(Blackout. The French man's voice is heard.)
___________________________
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"I do not recall everything that was said over the course of more than a hundred winter evenings, but the theme often returned to his discovery of France and how he'd loved her from a distance before he came to know her, and how his love had grown daily since he'd had the luck to live there. Mind you, I truly admired him for it. Nothing seemed to discourage him. He never tried to discourage our constant silence. On the contrary, he sometimes let the silence fill the entire room and saturate every corner of it as if it were some heavy, unbreathable gas. Of the three of us, it was always von Ebrennac who seemed the most at ease."
(Lights up. von Ebrennac enters. He mimes talking to them while the French man's narrative is still heard talking to them.)
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"He looked at my niece with his expression of approval that was both solemn and smiling at once. She seemed troubled in that prison she had built for herself. Thankfully, von Ebrennac drained away the silence with his droning voice."
von Ebrennac: My house is on the forest; I was born there; I used to go to the village school on the other side; I never left home until I went to Munich for my examinations, and to Salzburg for the music. I've lived there ever since. I don't like big cities. I know London, Vienna, Rome, Warsaw, and, of course, the German towns, but I would not like to live in any of them. The only place I really liked was Prague -- no other city has such a soul. And above all Nuremberg. For a German it is the city which makes his heart swell because there he finds the ghosts which are dear to his soul. Every stone is a reminder of those who made the glory of the old Germany. I think the French must feel the same thing before the Cathedral of Chartres. There they too must feel the presence of their ancestors beside them, the beauty of their spirit, the greatness of their faith, and all their graciousness. Fate led me to Chartres. Oh, truly, when it appears over the ripe corn, blue in the distance, transparent, ethereal, it stirs one's heart! I imagined the feelings of those who used to go there on foot, on horseback or by wagon in the olden time. I shared their feelings, and I loved those people. How I wish I could be their brother! No doubt it's hard to believe that of somebody who arrived at Chartres in a huge armoured car; but all the same it's the truth. So many things are going on at the same time in the heart of a German, even the best German! Things of which he would so gladly be cured. (He smiles.) In the country house nearest my home there lives a young girl. She is very beautiful and very sweet. My father at any rate would have been very glad if I had married her. When he died we were practically engaged, and they used to let us go out for long walks alone together.
(The niece snaps her thread and tries to thread it again through the eye of the needle. von Ebrennac waits until she has succeeded to continue.)
von Ebrennac: One day, we were in the forest. Rabbits and squirrels scampered before us. All kinds of flowers were there, narcissus, wild hyacinth, and amaryllis. The young girl cried out in her joy. She said, 'I'm so happy, Werner. I love, oh, how I love these gifts from God!' I too was happy. We lay down on the moss in the midst of the bracken. We did not say a word. Above our heads we saw the tops of the fir trees swaying and the birds flying from branch to branch. The young girl gave a little cry: 'Oh, he's stung me on the chin! Dirty little beast, nasty little mosquito!' Then I saw her make a quick grab with her hand. 'I have caught one, Werner! Oh, look, I'm going to punish him: I'm - pulling - his - legs - off - one - after - the - other...' And she did so... Luckily, she had plenty of other suitors. I did not feel any remorse, but at the same time I was scared away forever where German girls were concerned. (He looks at his hands.) And that's what our politicians are like too. That's why I never wanted to associated with them in spite of my friends who wrote to me: 'Come and join us.' No: I preferred to stay at home always. It wasn't a good thing for the success of my music, but no matter: success is a very little thing compared to a quiet conscience. And indeed I know very well that my friends and our Führer have the grandest and the nobles conceptions, but I know equally well that they would pull mosquitoes' legs off, one after the other. That's what always happens with Germans when they are very lonely: it always comes up to the top. And who are more lonely than men of the same Party when they are in power? Happily they are now alone no longer: they are in France. France will cure them, and I'm going to tell you the truth: they know it. They know that France will teach them how to be really great and pure in heart.
(von Ebrennac goes towards the door.)
von Ebrennac: But for that we must have love.
(von Ebrennac holds the door open, waits and stares at the niece.)
von Ebrennac(whispering): A love which is returned. (As he leaves, he speaks.) I wish you a very good night.
(Blackout.)
___________________________
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"At long last, spring finally came. von Ebrennac came down around sunset one evening carrying a book. He was excited."
von Ebrennac: I brought this down for you. It's a page of Macbeth. Good god, what greatness! (He opens the book.) It's at the end. Macbeth's power is slipping through his fingers, and with it the loyalty of those who have grasped at last the blackness of his ambition. The noble lords who are defending the honour of Scotland are awaiting his imminent overthrow. One of them describes the dramatic portents of this collapse... (He reads.)
' Now does he feel
His secret murders sticking on his hands;
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
Those he commands move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarvish thief.'
(von Ebrennac laughs.)
von Ebrennac: Isn't that just what must be keeping your Admiral awake at night? I really pity that man in spite of the contempt which he inspires in me as much as in you.
'Those he commands move only in command,
Nothing in love...'
A leader who has not his people's love is a very miserable little puppet. Only... only, could one expect anything else? Who in fact except some dreary climber of that kind could have taken on such a part? And yet it had to be. Yes, there had to be someone who would agree to sell his country, because today -- today and for a long time to come -- France cannot fall willingly into our open arms without losing her dignity in her own eyes. Often the most sordid go-between is thus at the bottom of the happiest union. The go-between is none the less contemptible for that, nor is the union less happy. (He snaps the book shut.) I have to inform my hosts that I shall be away for a couple of weeks. I am overjoyed to be going to Paris. It's now my turn for leave, and I shall spend it in Paris for the first time. This is a great day for me. It's my greatest day until the coming of another one, for which I hope with all my heart, and which will be an even greater day. I shall know how to wait for years if necessary. My heart knows how to be patient. I expect I shall see my friends in Paris, where many of them have come for the negotiations which we are conducting with your politicians to prepare for the wonderful union of our two countries. So I shall be in a way a witness to the marriage... I want to tell you that I am happy for the sake of France, whose wounds will thus be so quickly healed, but I am even happier for Germany and for myself. No one will ever have gained so much from a good deed as will Germany by giving back to France her greatness and her liberty! I wish you a very good night.
(Blackout.)
___________________________
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"It had been more than a week since we saw him again. We knew of his presence in the house, but we never saw him. I shall admit his absence left me upset. My niece and I spoke nothing of him, but on some evenings we sometimes heard his uneven steps upstairs. I saw him one day while at the Kommandantur declaring some tires for business purposes. He came out of his office and spoke to a sergeant. I waited there for no real reason, curiously moved. He finally noticed me and seemed about to say something, but he visibly shook his head shyly and hobbled back into his office. My niece, though I did not mention the event to her, seemed to know of the encounter. She studied me that evening, trying to read something in my face. She went to bed early that night. Three days later, his steps could be heard heading in our direction. I recalled it had been six months since we'd first heard those steps. Now, six months later, the rain drenchingly poured outdoors. I was warming my hands on the bowl of my pipe, and my niece covered her shoulders with a printed silk scarf. His steps, slower than usual, almost implied a hesitation due to a heavy strain on his will-power. My niece's eyelids grew heavy as we waited for the knock. The silence may have actually been very short, but it felt long and interminable. I could picture him hesitating behind the door waiting to knock. Finally, three full slow knocks could be heard. The door, however, remained closed. A flurry of questions seized me. Should we answer? Why the sudden change? Why would he expect us to break the silence now? My niece would not look in my direction. She merely stared at the handle on the door with an inhuman, owl-like stare. Two more knocks came. They were quick and gentle. My niece spoke."
Niece: He is going to leave.*
French man: Come in, sir.
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"I was not sure why I added the 'sir'. Perhaps it was to ask him in as a man and not as an enemy officer. He pushed the door back to the wall and stood erect in the doorway. His face was cold and impassive. But his hands betrayed the emotions on his face. Suddenly, his eyes came to life and rested on my eyes. They were filled with insomnia. Soon, they rested on my niece and stayed there. He opened his mouth and spoke."
von Ebrennac: I have something to say to you.
(The niece lowers her head and begins twisting her fingers round the wool from her ball subconsciously. It is very difficult for von Ebrennac to speak.)
von Ebrennac: Everything that I have said in these six months, everything that the walls of this room have heard... you must... forget it all.
(The niece raises her head slowly, and for the first time looks directly at him. von Ebrennac whispers.)
von Ebrennac:Oh, welch' ein Licht! (Even softer.) I have seen those men -- the victors. (Even lower still.) I have spoken to them. (Silence.) They laughed at me.
(von Ebrennac raises his eyes to the French man and nods his head three times in a grave manner. He closes his eyes.)
von Ebrennac: They said to me, 'Haven't you grasped that we're having them on?' That's what they said. Those very words. 'Wir prellen sie.' They said to me: 'You don't suppose that we're going to be such fools as to let France rise up again on our frontiers? Do you?' They gave a loud laugh and slapped me merrily on the back as they looked at my face: 'We aren't musicians!' (Silence.) Then I made a long speech -- and a spirited one too. They went: 'Tst! Tst!' They answered me: 'Politics aren't a poet's dream. What do you think we went to war for? For the sake of their old Marshal?' They laughed again. 'We're neither madmen nor simpletons: we have the chance to destroy France, and destroy her we will. Not only her material power: her soul as well. Particularly her soul. Her soul is the greatest danger. That's our job at this moment -- make no mistake about it, my dear fellow! We'll turn it rotten with our smiles and our consideration. We'll make a grovelling bitch out of her.' (Silence. He seems out of breath. He gets upset, but his voice becomes level, intense and low.) There is no hope. (Lower and hopeless) No hope. No hope. (Loud, clear and very strong, as if a cry.) NO HOPE! (Silence again.) They reproached me, they were rather angry with me: 'There you are, you see!' You see how infatuated you are with her. There's the real danger! But we'll rid Europe of this pest! We'll purge it of this poison!' They explained everything to me. Oh, they've not left me in the dark about anything. They are flattering your writers, but at the same time in Belgium, in Holland, in all the countries occupied by our troops, they've already put the bars up. No French book can go through any more except technical publications, manuals on Refraction or formulas for Cementation... But works of general culture, not one. None whatever! (His eyes find the bookshelf and his voice continues with a "groaning violence".) Nothing, nothing, nobody! Not only your modern writers! Not only your Péguy, your Proust, your Bergson... But all the others! All those up there! The whole lot! Every one! (Silence.) They will put out the light altogether. Never again will Europe be lit up by that flame. (With a startling, hollow cry.) Nevermore!
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"This time the silence was more tense and thick. A wave of hidden emotions crashed my mind from all sides. Beneath the silence was a horrible sense of oppression. His voice finally broke the silence, gentle and distressed."
von Ebrennac: I had a friend. He was like a brother. We had been to school together. We shared the same room at Stuttgart. We had spent three months together in Nuremberg. We never did anything without each other: I played my music to him; he read me his poems. He went to read his poems at Munich, to some of his new friends. I have seen what they have made of him! He was the most violent of them all. He mingled anger with mockery. One moment he would look at me with passion and cry: 'It's a poison! We've got to empty the creature of its poison!' The next moment he would give me little prods in the stomach with the end of his finger. 'They're scared stiff now! They're afraid of their pockets and for their stomach -- for their trade and industry! That's all they think of! And as for the few others, we'll flatter them and put them to sleep! It will be easy!' He laughed at me till he went pink in the face. 'We'll buy their soul!' (Silence. He takes a breath.) I asked him: 'Have you grasped what you are doing? Have you really grasped what it means?' He said, 'Do you think that is going to frighten us? Not with our kind of clearheadedness! It's a matter of life or death. Force is all you need to conquer with, but it's not enough to keep you masters. We know very well that an army counts for nothing in keeping you masters.' I said, 'But at the price of the Spirit? Not at that price!' 'The spirit never dies,' he said. 'It has known it all before. It is born again from its ashes. We've got to build for a thousand years hence: first we must destroy.' I looked at him. I looked right down into his pale eyes. He was quite sincere. That's the most terrible thing of all. (He shouts.) They'll do what they say! They'll do it systematically and doggedly. I know how those devils stop at nothing. (He stoops slowly and raises his hand to the niece. He puts his other hand on his forehead.) They said to me: 'It's our right and our duty.' Our duty!... Happy is the man who discovers the path of his duty as easily as that. At the crossroads, they'll tell you, 'Take that road there.' So, this road we see it descending toward a sinister valley, thrusting itself into the foul shadows of a dismal forest. My God! Show me what I must do! (Screaming almost.) It's the fight -- the Grand Battle of the Temporal vs. the Spiritual.
(He stares lamentably at the sculpted wooden angel over the window, which smiles luminously over the celestial tranquility. Suddenly his expression seems to relax. His body loses its stiffness. His face turns to the ground. He lifts it again.)
von Ebrennac: I stood on my rights. I demanded to return to a division in the country. This favour was finally granted: tomorrow I am authorized to set off. (Smiles.) To hell. (His arms faces the East) Towards those immense fields where the wheat of the future will be fed with the corpses.
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"At that moment, my niece's face hurt me. It was as pale as the moon. Her lips were disjoined, and I saw pearls of sweat gushing from her forehead. I do not know if Werner von Ebrennac saw her. His pupils, fixed solely on her, provided an intense unbreakable stare. He put his hand on the doorknob and spoke, without expression."
von Ebrennac: I wish you a good night.
(He stays a long moment, and looks at the niece.)
von Ebrennac: Adieu.
(He stays. An extreme silence lasts an eternity. Finally:)
Niece: Adieu.
MAN'S NARRATIVE:"It was as faint a word as she had ever spoken, but I heard it. He smiled, so that it was the last image I remembered of him before he was gone."
NIECE'S NARRATIVE:"He was already gone the next day when I went downstairs to prepare our daily cup of milk and our daily breakfast. We ate in silence. We drank in silence. Outside, a pale sun shone across the mist. It seemed to me it was rather cold outside."
(Throughout the niece's final passage, the lights slowly dim to a blackout.)
THE END
* in light of the last portion of dialogue of the play, this line is optional in order to maintain the niece's continued silence.
About Vercors:
His true identity shrouded in a veil of mystery, Vercors was hailed as the most faithful and the most restrained expression of the mood of France during the Second World War. Although details concerning his life remain sketchy, he is said to have been born in Paris on February 26, 1902 under the name of Jean Bruller. Despite his frail health, he served in the French army in 1939-40, and forced himself to write 2 pages of material every night in order to avoid intellectual stagnation. His most famous work "The Silence of the Sea" was written in the summer of 1941, and was based on an overheard conversation between two German officers in a Parisian restaurant, while one of them boasted of France's submissiveness to Germany. The books were printed in secret and were distributed and circulated with extreme caution -- not even Bruller's wife knew he had written the book. Today, Vercors' work has been translated into every language, studied in schools, and has been published by the hundreds of thousands of copies.
