AGUSTIN: Mamaé wouldn’t go to San Isidro. She’d go to the Beneficencia, which is free. You don’t know about that place, do you? But I’ve taken the trouble to go and see it. The old people there all live on top of each other in the most filthy conditions. They hardly even have any clothes to wear. They’re eaten alive by lice, and they sleep on the floor on sacks. What’s more, it’s in Santo Cristo next to the cemetery so that the old people spend all day watching funerals. Do you really want to send Mamaé there?
MAMAE: (Very distressed, almost in tears) We weren’t yet married, Joaquín. I couldn’t let you lose respect for me. It would have lowered me in your eyes. It was for you I did it, for you. So that you would have a wife you wouldn’t be ashamed of.
CESAR: And do you really think Mamaé lives well here? Have you lost all sense of smell, Agustín. You say yourself that every time you have to have a cup of milk in this house, it practically turns your stomach. You must understand I’m not suggesting the home out of spite or anything, but to save you expense. I love her as much as you do.
MAMAE: And what was so wrong about the poetry? That’s how things were in those days. When a woman was in love she read poetry. That’s what young ladies and gentlemen did, Joaquín. Federico Barreto was certainly no fool. He was a great poet. All the girls in Tacna were dying of envy when he wrote those lines on my fan.
AMELIA: (To AGUSTIN) Do you think I’ve no feelings? I’m the one who baths her, puts her to bed, dresses her; I’m the one who feeds her, don’t forget. But … you’re right. We can’t send Mamaé there. Besides, it’s true — Mother would never agree to it.
JOAQUIN: What a wonderful couple we’d have made, my little soldier’s girl. Such a pity you’re married! When I think of that frigid little saint … I ask myself, will she be capable of satisfying me, when I feel those waves of passion welling up inside me as I do now, ready to break at any moment? (Speaking in her ear) Shall I tell you what I’m going to do to Elvira when she’s my wife?
MAMAE: (Covering her ears) No! No! I don’t want to know.
CESAR: All right. Then I’m sorry I even spoke. Let’s forget about the home. I’m only trying to help, to throw out a few ideas. And all you do is to make me feel worthless.
JOAQUIN: With these hands … I’ll undress her. I’ll take off her bridal veil, her dress, her petticoat, her bodice. Her shoes. Her stockings. Slowly, watching her blush, not knowing what to say, what to do, where to look. A young girl overcome with shyness and fear is an exciting prospect.
AGUSTIN: Come down to earth, César. You’re not going to solve the problem with brainless suggestions. If, instead of all these far-fetched schemes, you were to give me another five hundred soles towards the running of this house, you really would be helping.
(Throughout the scene, BELISARIO has been writing at his desk. He has also been listening and observing his family, MAMAE and JOAQUIN. He now starts to yawn. He works more and more reluctantly.)
JOAQUIN: And when her skin starts to quiver with fear, as I gradually uncover it, I’ll lean over, and smell it, taste it, cover it with feverish kisses. Are you jealous my little soldier’s girl? Can you see me running my hands, my eyes, my lips over that tender little body? Can you see her trembling, her eyes closed. Are you jealous? I want you to be jealous, Carlota.
MAMAE: I’m not listening to you. I’m covering my ears, I’m shutting you out. I’m closing my eyes, I don’t want to see you either. You can’t insult me however hard you try, you’re not going to drag me down to your common level. Oh, this crazy little head …
(She hits her head as if punishing it for giving her these hallucinations.)
AMELIA: Quiet now, Father’s coming.
(Enter GRANDFATHER and GRANDMOTHER. AGUSTIN and CESAR come forward to kiss their father. BELISARIO has put down his pen. He rests for a moment, his head on his arm.)
BELISARIO: (Yawning) The world won’t come to an end because you can’t finish a story, Belisario. Go on, have a little nap.
GRANDFATHER: You got all worked up about nothing. I’m perfectly all right. That … that brigand didn’t do me any harm. But at least it’s got them to pay us a visit. They haven’t been here for weeks.
CESAR: But we were here all yesterday afternoon, Father.
JOAQUIN: And then, when she’s surrendered herself totally to me, and her body’s all wet with my kisses, I’ll make her take all my clothes off too. Just as you do. I’ll teach her obedience. I’ll train her like my horse: so that she’ll only allow me to handle her. And while she’s undressing me, I’ll be thinking about you. About all those things only you know how to do to me. I’ll feel my blood getting hotter. I’ll put off making love to her till the very last moment, then when I do, I’ll be thinking all the time I’m with you, Carlota.
(He caresses MAMAE’s breasts.)
MAMAE: No. No. Go away, get out of here. I won’t let you, not even in my wildest dreams, not even when I’m your wife. Aunt Amelia! Uncle Menelao! Carmencita! Ahhh! Ahhh!
(JOAQUIN disappears, smiling. AMELIA, AGUSTIN, CESAR, and the GRANDPARENTS turn to look at MAMAE when they hear her shouting.)
GRANDMOTHER: What’s the matter, Mamaé? Why do you shout the whole time like a maniac?
MAMAE: (Suffocating, embarrassed) I dreamt my fiancé was trying to touch my breasts, Carmencita. These Chileans are so forward! They even take liberties with you in your sleep! These Chileans, really!
(She crosses herself, horrified. BELISARIO has fallen asleep over his papers. His pencil slips out of his hand and falls on to the floor. He starts to snore.)
ACT TWO
As the curtain rises, the GRANDPARENTS are listening to the Sunday Mass on the old wireless set they keep in the small drawing room of their house. The voice of the priest drones on monotonously and GRANDMOTHER and MAMAE genuflect and cross themselves at the appropriate moments. GRANDFATHER listens reluctantly. At intervals we hear the tram passing. AMELIA is laying the table for supper. She moves in and out of the room without paying any attention to the Mass on the wireless. BELISARIO, who has fallen asleep at his desk, slowly wakes up. He yawns, rubs his eyes and reads over something he has written. Suddenly something occurs to him which makes him jump up in great excitement and take hold of the little chair in which he has been sitting. He leans against it like a little old man who can’t walk and starts to make his way slowly across the stage, dragging himself along with little hops and skips (exactly as we will see MAMAE doing later).
BELISARIO: That time Grandfather was robbed, could she still walk then? Could you, Mamaé? Yes, this was how it was, with your little wooden chair, like a child playing gee-gees. From your bedroom to the bathroom, from the bathroom to the armchair, from the armchair to the dining room, and from the dining room back to your bedroom again: the geography of your world. (Reflects; repeats the expression, savouring it.) The geography of your world, Mamaé. I like it, Belisario!