Heavenly and Earthly Love

FERENC MOLNAR

BENJAMIN GLAZER

A Quaint Variation of the Eternal Triangle, This Time With an Amazing Hypothenuse

Two men are walking in the middle of the road. THere, in the suburbs, it is very still. A fine mist is swirling over grass and tree-tops, but in the faroff city they can see rows of street lamps, yellow against the darkening horizon, and hear the sound of traffic, coming as faint as footsteps in a heavily carpeted room.

THE THICK-SET MAN (deliberately, dogmatically, and with an air of great wisdom): A woman in love is either spiritual or sensual. No woman can combine both qualities. Titian was right.

THE LEAN MAN: What did Titian say about it?

THE THICK-SET MAN: He painted a beautiful picture called "Heavenly and Earthly Love". There were two women in it. One was the embodiment of pure, tranquil spirituality; the other was wholly a creature of flesh and lust. So it is in life.

(He takes a long, self-satisfied puff of his cigar, having definitely settled that question.)

THE LEAN MAN: DO you think so?

THE THICK-SET MAN: I know it. Now, I am a common sort of man. My ancestors were peasants. And so my preference is for the woman of flesh. Oh, I can see the beauty of ideal love. Abstractly considered, there is poetry in the poignant contact of two souls. But all that sort of nonsense pops right out of my head the moment my lips come in contact with the lips of a beautiful woman. I stop thinking, then; I feel.

THE LEAN MAN: Women have taught you that.

THE THICK-SET MAN: HOW do you mean?

THE LEAN MAN: A man is what women make him. I venture to say—don't be afraid; I shall not be inquisitive—that your sweetheart is lacking in soul, and you think of her body. Now, the woman I love—don't be afraid; I shall not be indiscreet—is quite the opposite. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because she is thin. But she has taught me to believe that the affinity of souls, the capacity for true spiritual friendship, are the only things that can justify an otherwise sinful relationship.

THE THICK-SET MAN: With thin women.

(He blows a ring of smoke, quite proud of having settled the question once more, this time on the basis of physiology.)

THE LEAN MAN: Her love is shy and tender. Our embraces are a thing apart from our love; our kisses a dim, dreamy interlude. You may laugh, but when we part—even after the most passionate of our afternoons—we part as brother and sister might—untroubled, chaste, serene.

THE THICK-SET MAN: HOW different women are! When I part from mine, l am the primordial male torn from his mate, and she is the primitive female, with lips burning from my kisses and heart in a turmoil of love and jealousy and hatred. Her love is a thirst that can not be quenched. (He puffs his cigar.)

THE LEAN MAN: If I spoke of mine that way, she would never forgive me.

THE THICK-SET MAN: And mine would laugh at your ideas of love. When I was courting her, I tried the spiritual side—you know how a man feels his way in the beginning —but she would have none of it. To kiss and embrace! That's what she wanted.

THE LEAN MAN: Curious!

THE THICK-SET MAN: Not at all.

THE LEAN MAN: I mean that we each should stand at the opposite extremes of love. You at the sensual, and I at the spiritual. Yours the plump, pink woman, mine the slender, white one.

THE THICK-SET MAN: I wouldn't say she was plump.

THE LEAN MAN: And mine isn't exactly slender.

THE THICK-SET MAN: Mine's neither fat nor thin; she only gives one the impression of being plump.

THE LEAN MAN: Mine's about medium, too, but she gives the impression of slenderness. And I wouldn't call her white, either. Rather pale pink.

THE THICK-SET MAN: I suppose mine could be called deep pink.

THE LEAN MAN: Wouldn't it be interesting to see them together? What could two such utterly opposite people find to say to each other? Do you know, I have heard of such things in France? Two friends bringing their sweethearts together at a little supper for four. We ought IO do it some time.

THE THICK-SET MAN: That wouldn't do. They may know each other.

THE LEAN MAN: DO you suppose they do?

THE THICK-SET MAN: For al! we know, they may be intimate friends.

THE LEAN MAN (blushing): I say-

THE THICK-SET MAN (guessing what the other is about to propose): Yes?

THE LEAN MAN: Look here ... You tell me the name of yours, and I'll tell you the name of mine.

(For a long time, they walk in silence. The idea pleases both, but each is wondering whether the other will consider him a cad if he agrees. At last, the thick-set man stops and extends his hand. The lean man takes it. They look at each other, smiling; then they clasp hands long and fervently.)

THE THICK-SET MAN (almost in a whisper): Mrs. Jerome Szabo.

THE LEAN MAN (regards him, wild eved): What?

THE THICK-SET MAN: Your turn now.

THE LEAN MAN: Who? Who did you say she was?

THE THICK-SET MAN: Mrs. Jerome Szabo.

THE LEAN MAN: Oh! (clutches his arm convulsively.)

THE THICK-SET MAN: Well, what of it?

TIIE LEAN MAN: She is mine, too.

(There is an awful silence.)

THE THICK-SET MAN: Tuesdays, Thursday, and Saturdays.

THE LEAN MAN: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

(.4 nother silence.)

THE THICK-SET MAN. And Sundays?

THE LEAN MAN (with tears in his eyes): Who knows?

THE THICK-SET MAN (bitterly): And this is the spiritual cieature y u worship!

THE LEAN MAN (son rwfully): Yes, the sister of my soul, the shy, the tender, the virginal!

THE THICK-SET MAN: And my primordial mate, the wild, the untamed!

THE LEAN MAN: I could weep.

THE THICK-SET MAN: YOU could weep, because you loved her spiritually; but 1 can laugh, because that is what she taught me to do.

(The one who said he could weep, smiles bitterly: the one who said he could laugh, scowls tragically.)

THE LEAN MAN: And now what?

THE THICK-SET MAN: I don't know how you spiritual people feel about such things, but we ordinary mortals are revolted at the mere thought of sharing our loves with another. My course is quite clear. I'm through with her.

THE LEAN MAN: And we spiritual people . . . I don't ever want to look at her again.

(They shake hands.)

THE THICK-SET MAN: And yet—— I have an idea.

THE LEAN MAN: What?

THE THICK-SET MAN: It is a very good idea. In fact, I have never had so^h a good idea in all my life. Listen to me. She has contrived to make two separate women of herself. There's genius in that, and we should not fail to appreciate it.

THE LEAN MAN: Appreciate it?

THE THICK-SET MAN: Exactly. As gentlemen, we are bound to accept her for what she has made herself. If she is two women, what right have we to consider her one?

THE LEAN MAN: But-

THE THICK-SET MAN: No buts. It is clear as day. This conversation never took place. Everything is as it was. Don't you see?

THE LEAN MAN (dubiously): Yes.

THE THICK-SET MAN: Agreed, then. We will never speak of her again. And she must never know. I will go on being her ardent lover, and you her spiritual one. And so we will live happily for ever after. Good night.

THE LEAN MAN: Good night.

(They part abruptly. One goes to the right, the other to the left; but each is wondering how best to supplant the other in the woman's affections and win her exclusively for his own. And both arc burning with wounded pride. And tomorrow, when they see the woman, both will make a scene, and the woman will send them both about their business, and will look for two new admirers to supplant them.)