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WDS Publishing
The Fight for Barbara
The Fight for Barbara
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8.30 in the morning. The kitchen of an Italian villa--a big open
fire-place of stone, with a little charcoal grate--fornello--on
either side--cupboards, table, rush-bottom chairs with high backs--
many bright copper pans of all sizes hanging up. The door-bell
rings in the kitchen--rings hard--after a minute a door is heard to
bang.
Enter WESSON, in dressing-gown and pyjamas: a young man of about
twenty-six, with thick hair ruffled from sleep. He crosses and
goes through door R. Sounds of voices. Re-enter WESSON, followed
by Italian maid-servant, FRANCESCA, young, fair, pretty--wears a
black lace scarf over her head. She carries a saucepan full of
milk. On the table stand a soup-tureen and an enamel jug.
FRANCESCA: Questa? (Puts her hand on the jug.)
WESSON: No, in the other. (She pours the milk into the tureen.)
FRANCESCA (smiling): Abondante misura!
WESSON: What's that? Come?
FRANCESCA: Abondante misura latte!
WESSON: Oh--full measure. Si!--running over!
FRANCESCA: Ranning ova. (Both laugh.)
WESSON: Right you are--you're learning English.
FRANCESCA: Come?
WESSON: Vous apprenez anglais--voi--inglese!
FRANCESCA: O--non--niente inglese!
WESSON: Nothing English? Oh yes! Er--fa tempo cattivo!
FRANCESCA: Tempo cattivo--si.
WESSON: Rotten weather--
FRANCESCA: Come?
WESSON: It's all the same. (She puts the lid on her saucepan and
turns away.) Er--what day is it?--er--giorno che giorno?
FRANCESCA: Oggi? Domenica.
WESSON: Domenica!--dimanche--Sonntag--Sunday.
FRANCESCA: Come?
WESSON: Sunday!
FRANCESCA: Sendy!
WESSON: That's it. (Both laugh--she blushes and turns away--
bows.)
FRANCESCA: Buon giorno, Signore.
WESSON: Buon giorno.
Exit FRANCESCA R. He drinks some milk, wipes his mouth and begins
to whistle: "Put me among the girls!"--takes some branches of
olive and ilex from a box near the fire--puts them in the
fireplace. As he is so doing, enter Left--BARBARA--age about
twenty-six--fair--rather a fine young woman, holding her blue silk
dressing-gown about her. She stands in the doorway L., holding up
her finger.
BARBARA: Yes, you may well whistle that! _I_ heard you,
Giacometti.
WESSON (turning round): And did it fetch you out of bed?
BARBARA: Yes, it did. _I_ heard your dulcet tones.
fire-place of stone, with a little charcoal grate--fornello--on
either side--cupboards, table, rush-bottom chairs with high backs--
many bright copper pans of all sizes hanging up. The door-bell
rings in the kitchen--rings hard--after a minute a door is heard to
bang.
Enter WESSON, in dressing-gown and pyjamas: a young man of about
twenty-six, with thick hair ruffled from sleep. He crosses and
goes through door R. Sounds of voices. Re-enter WESSON, followed
by Italian maid-servant, FRANCESCA, young, fair, pretty--wears a
black lace scarf over her head. She carries a saucepan full of
milk. On the table stand a soup-tureen and an enamel jug.
FRANCESCA: Questa? (Puts her hand on the jug.)
WESSON: No, in the other. (She pours the milk into the tureen.)
FRANCESCA (smiling): Abondante misura!
WESSON: What's that? Come?
FRANCESCA: Abondante misura latte!
WESSON: Oh--full measure. Si!--running over!
FRANCESCA: Ranning ova. (Both laugh.)
WESSON: Right you are--you're learning English.
FRANCESCA: Come?
WESSON: Vous apprenez anglais--voi--inglese!
FRANCESCA: O--non--niente inglese!
WESSON: Nothing English? Oh yes! Er--fa tempo cattivo!
FRANCESCA: Tempo cattivo--si.
WESSON: Rotten weather--
FRANCESCA: Come?
WESSON: It's all the same. (She puts the lid on her saucepan and
turns away.) Er--what day is it?--er--giorno che giorno?
FRANCESCA: Oggi? Domenica.
WESSON: Domenica!--dimanche--Sonntag--Sunday.
FRANCESCA: Come?
WESSON: Sunday!
FRANCESCA: Sendy!
WESSON: That's it. (Both laugh--she blushes and turns away--
bows.)
FRANCESCA: Buon giorno, Signore.
WESSON: Buon giorno.
Exit FRANCESCA R. He drinks some milk, wipes his mouth and begins
to whistle: "Put me among the girls!"--takes some branches of
olive and ilex from a box near the fire--puts them in the
fireplace. As he is so doing, enter Left--BARBARA--age about
twenty-six--fair--rather a fine young woman, holding her blue silk
dressing-gown about her. She stands in the doorway L., holding up
her finger.
BARBARA: Yes, you may well whistle that! _I_ heard you,
Giacometti.
WESSON (turning round): And did it fetch you out of bed?
BARBARA: Yes, it did. _I_ heard your dulcet tones.
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