SHANNON: No. To you. I knew you could hear me out there, but not being able to see you I could say it easier, you know...
NONNO:
A chronicle no longer gold,
A bargaining with mist and mould——
HANNAH [coming back on to the verandah]: I took a closer look at the iguana down there.
SHANNON: You did? How did you like it? Charming? Attractive?
HANNAH: No; it's not an attractive creature. Nevertheless, I think it should be cut loose.
SHANNON: Iguanas have been known to bite their tails off when they're tied up by their tails.
HANNAH: This one is tied by its throat. It can't bite its own head off to escape from the end of the rope, Mr Shannon. Can you look at me and tell me truthfully that you don't know it's able to feel pain and panic?
SHANNON: You mean it's one of God's creatures?
HANNAH: If you want to put it that way, yes, it is. Mr Shannon, will you please cut it loose, set it free? Because if you don't I will.
SHANNON: Can you look at me and tell me truthfully that this reptilian creature, tied up down there, doesn't mostly disturb you because of its parallel situation to your Grampa's dying-out effort to finish one last poem, Miss Jelkes?
HANNAH: Yes, I...
SHANNON: Never mind completing that sentence. We'll play God tonight like kids play house with old broken crates and boxes. All right? Now Shannon is going to go down there with his machete and cut the damn lizard loose so it can run back to its bushes because God won't do it and we are going to play God here.
HANNAH: I knew you'd do that. And I thank you.
[Shannon goes down the two steps from the verandah with the machete. He crouches beside the cactus that hides the iguana and cuts the rope with a quick, hard stroke of the machete. He turns to look after its flight, as the low, excited mumble in cubicle 3 grows louder. Then Nonno's voice turns to a sudden shout!]
NONNO: Hannah! Hannah! [She rushes to him as he wheels himself out of his cubicle on to the verandah.]
HANNAH: Grandfather! What is it?
NONNO: I! believe! it! is! finished! Quick, before I forget it — pencil, paper! Quick! please! Ready?
HANNAH: Yes. All ready, Grandfather.
NONNO [in a loud, exalted voice]:
How calmly does the orange branch
Observe the sky begin to blanch
Without a cry, without a prayer,
With no betrayal of despair.
Sometime while night obscures the tree
The zenith of its life will be
Gone past forever, and from thence
A second history will commence.
A chronicle no longer gold,
A bargaining with mist and mould,
And finally the broken stem
The plummeting to earth; and then
An intercourse not well designed
For beings of a golden kind
Whose native green must arch above
The earth's obscene, corrupting love.
And still the ripe fruit and the branch
Observe the sky begin to blanch
Without a cry, without a prayer,
With no betrayal of despair.
O Courage, could you not as well
Select a second place to dwell,
Not only in that golden tree
But in the frightened heart of me?
Have you got it?
HANNAH: Yes!
NONNO: All of it?
HANNAH: Every word of it.
NONNO: It is finished?
HANNAH: Yes.
NONNO: Oh! God! Finally finished?
HANNAH: Yes, finally finished. [She is crying. The singing voices flow up from the beach.]
NONNO: After waiting so long!
HANNAH: Yes, we waited so long.
NONNO: And it's good! It is good?
HANNAH: It's — it's....
NONNO: What?
HANNAH: Beautiful, Grandfather! [She springs up, a fist to her mouth.] Oh, Grandfather, I am so happy for you. Thank you for writing such a lovely poem! It was worth the long wait. Can you sleep now, Grandfather?
NONNO: You'll have it typewritten tomorrow?
HANNAH: Yes. I'll have it typed up and send it off to Harper's.
NONNO: Hah? I didn't hear that, Hannah.
HANNAH [shouting]: I'll have it typed up tomorrow, and mail it to Harper's tomorrow! They've been waiting for it a long time, too! You know!
NONNO: Yes; I'd like to pray now.
HANNAH: Good night. Sleep now, Grandfather. You've finished your loveliest poem.
NONNO [faintly, drifting off]: Yes, thanks and praise...
[Maxine comes around the front of the verandah, followed by Pedro playing a harmonica softly. She is prepared for a night swim, a vividly striped towel thrown over her shoulders. It is apparent that the night's progress has mellowed her spirit: her face wears a faint smile which is suggestive of those cool, impersonal, all-comprehending smiles on the carved heads of Egyptian or Oriental deities. Bearing a rum-coco, she approaches the hammock, discovers it empty, the ropes on the floor, and calls softly to Pedro.]
MAXINE: Shannon ha escapado! [Pedro goes on playing dreamily. She throws back her head and shouts.] Shannon! [The call is echoed by the hill beyond, Pedro advances a few steps and points under the verandah.]
PEDRO: Mire. Allá está Shannon.
[Shannon comes into view from below the verandah, the severed rope and machete dangling from his hands.]
MAXINE: What are you doing down there, Shannon?
SHANNON: I cut loose one of God's creatures at the end of the rope.
[Hannah, who has stood motionless with closed eyes behind the wicker chair, goes quietly towards the cubicles and out of the moon's glare.]
MAXINE [tolerantly]: What'd you do that for, Shannon?
SHANNON: So that one of God's creatures could scramble home safe and free.... A little act of grace, Maxine.
MAXINE [smiling a bit more definitely]: C'mon up here, Shannon.
I want to talk to you.
SHANNON [starting to climb on to the verandah, as Maxine rattles the ice in the coconut shell]: What d'ya want to talk about, Widow Faulk?
MAXINE: Let's go down and swim in that liquid moonlight.
SHANNON: Where did you pick up that poetic expression? [Maxine glances back at Pedro and dismisses him with 'Vamos.' He leaves with a shrug, the harmonica fading out.]
MAXINE: Shannon, I want you to stay with me.
SHANNON [taking the rum-coco from her]: You want a drinking companion?
MAXINE: No, I just want you to stay here, because I'm alone here now and I need somebody to help me manage the place.
[Hannah strikes a match for a cigarette.]
SHANNON [looking towards her]: I want to remember that face. I won't see it again.
MAXINE: Let's go down to the beach.
SHANNON: I can make it down the hill, but not back up.
MAXINE: I'll get you back up the hill. [They have started off now, towards the path down through the rainforest.] I've got five more years, maybe ten, to make this place attractive to the male clientele, the middle-aged ones at least. And you can take care of the women that are with them. That's what you can do, you know that, Shannon.
[He chuckles happily. They are now on the path, Maxine half leading, half supporting him. Their voices fade as Hannah goes into Nonno's cubicle and comes back with a shawl, her cigarette left inside. She pauses between the door and the wicker chair and speaks to herself and the sky.]
HANNAH: Oh, God, can't we stop now? Finally? Please let us. It's so quiet here, now.
[She starts to put the shawl about Nonno, but at the same moment his head drops to one side. With a soft intake of breath, she extends a hand before his mouth to see if he is still breathing. He isn't. In a panicky moment, she looks right and left for someone to call to. There's no one. Then she bends to press her head to the crown of Nonno's and the curtain starts to descend.]
THE END
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