The Son [suddenly ]. No! No! If I can't go away, then I'll stop here; but I repeat: I act nothing!
The Father [to MANAGER excitedly ]. You can force him, sir.
The Son. Nobody can force me.
The Father. I can.
The Step-Daughter. Wait a minute, wait . . . First of all, the baby has to go to the fountain . . . [Runs to take the CHILD and leads her to the fountain. ]
The Manager. Yes, yes of course; that's it. Both at the same time.
[The second LADY LEAD and the JUVENILE LEAD at this point separate themselves from the group of ACTORS. One watches the MOTHER attentively; the other moves about studying the movements and manner of the SON whom he will have to act. ]
The Son [to MANAGER]. What do you mean by both at the same time? It isn't right. There was no scene between me and her. [Indicates the MOTHER.] Ask her how it was!
The Mother. Yes, it's true. I had come into his room . . .
The Son. Into my room, do you understand? Nothing to do with the garden.
The Manager. It doesn't matter. Haven't I told you we've got to group the action?
The Son [observing the JUVENILE LEAD studying him ]. What do you want?
The Juvenile Lead. Nothing! I was just looking at you.
The Son [turning towards the second LADY LEAD]. Ah! She's at it too: to re-act her part! [Indicating the MOTHER.]
The Manager. Exactly! And it seems to me that you ought to be grateful to them for their interest.
The Son. Yes, but haven't you yet perceived that it isn't possible to live in front of a mirror which not only freezes us with the image of ourselves, but throws our likeness back at us with a horrible grimace?
The Father. That is true, absolutely true. You must see that.
The Manager [to second LADY LEAD and JUVENILE LEAD]. He's right! Move away from them!
The Son. Do as you like. I'm out of this!
The Manager. Be quiet, you, will you? And let me hear your mother! [To MOTHER.] You were saying you had entered . . .
The Mother. Yes, into his room, because I couldn't stand it any longer. I went to empty my heart to him of all the anguish that tortures me . . . But as soon as he saw me come in . . .
The Son. Nothing happened! There was no scene. I went away, that's all! I don't care for scenes!
The Mother. It's true, true. That's how it was.
The Manager. Well now, we've got to do this bit between you and him. It's indispensable.
The Mother. I'm ready . . . When you are ready. If you could only find a chance for me to tell him what I feel here in my heart.
The Father [going to SON in a great rage ]. You'll do this for your mother, for your mother, do you understand?
The Son [quite determined ]. I do nothing!
The Father [taking hold of him and shaking him ]. For God's sake, do as I tell you! Don't you hear your mother asking you for a favor? Haven't you even got the guts to be a son?
The Son [taking hold of the FATHER]. No! No! And for God's sake stop it, or else . . . [General agitation. ]
[The MOTHER, frightened, tries to separate them. ]
The Mother [pleading ]. Please! Please!
The Father [not leaving hold of the SON]. You've got to obey, do you hear?
The Son [almost crying from rage ]. What does it mean, this madness you've got? [They separate. ] Have you no decency, that you insist on showing everyone our shame? I won't do it! I won't! And I stand for the will of our author in this. He didn't want to put us on the stage, after all!
The Manager. Man alive! You came here . . .
The Son [indicating FATHER]. He did! I didn't!
The Manager. Arent't you here now?
The Son. It was his wish, and he dragged us along with him. He's told you not only the things that did happen, but also things that have never happened at all.
The Manager. Well, tell me then what did happen. You went out of your room without saying a word?
The Son. Without a word, so as to avoid a scene!
The Manager. And then what did you do?
The Son. Nothing . . . Walking in the garden . . . [Hesitates for a moment with expression of gloom. ]
The Manager [coming closer to him, interested by his extraordinary reserve ]. Well, well . . . Walking in the garden . . .
The Son [exasperated ]. Why on earth do you insist? It's horrible! [The MOTHER trembles, sobs, and looks towards the fountain. ]
The Manager [slowly observing the glance and turning towards the SON with increasing apprehension ]. The baby?
The Son. There in the fountain . . .
The Father [pointing with tender pity to the MOTHER]. She was following him at the moment . . .
The Manager [to the SON anxiously ]. And then you . . .
The Son. I ran over to her; I was jumping in to drag her out when I saw something that froze my blood . . . The boy standing stock still, with eyes like a madman's, watching his little drowned sister, in the fountain! [The STEP-DAUGHTER bends over the fountain to hide the CHILD. She sobs. ] Then . . . [A revolver shot rings out behind the trees where the BOY is hidden. ]
The Mother [with a cry of terror runs over in that direction together with several of the ACTORS amid general confusion ]. My son! My son! [Then amid the cries and exclamations one hears her voice. ] Help! Help!
The Manager [pushing the ACTORS aside while THEY lift up the BOY and carry him off. ] Is he really wounded?
Some Actors. He's dead! Dead!
Other Actors. No, no, it's only make believe, it's only pretence!
The Father [with a terrible cry ]. Pretence? Reality, sir, reality!
The Manager. Pretence? Reality? To hell with it all! Never in my life has such a thing happened to me. I've lost a whole day over these people, a whole day!
[Luigi Pirandello received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1934. He died in 1936, before he was to play the Author in a Hollywood film version of this play. For a page in Italian with a short biography and links to the original of this play along with others, please see]