The Eighth Tribe, 1976 (3. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1976-06-01 / 6. szám
June, 1976 THE EIGHTH TRIBE (calling out to the group) Hey men! Stop! Remember me? Do you know from where I am calling I have reached the land of the Bible, I am treading the ground of the Promised Land.... Won’t you stop, please? but the group walks away quietly, paying no attention to his call. Only one girl, whose face is shielded by a red scarf and whose dress (as we shall see in a moment) is more stylish than the costume of the other girls, stops, giving Kovats a distant glance. But Kovats turns without noticing her. KOVATS It was not the sun, after all. It was only the Atlantic turned crimson. the girl approaches Kovats stopping at the far side of the stage. By now, the orange light in the background has faded out and the girl is standing in a strange semi-darkness THE GIRL Michael... Kovats listens, as if the voice would rise from the very depth of his soul. But he does not turn. KOVATS that voice.... THE GIRL (somewhat louder) Michael... KOVATS that voice sounds so familiar.... THE GIRL Is the voice more important than the person? KOVATS (turning to her) Ilona ILONA Who else? KOVATS uncertain, and with eyes half closed . .. Ilona ... are you in my dreams or am I in yours? ILONA I am not sure, but does that matter? I’ve come to tell you that I still love you, Michael that the garden is full of bloom, that I put fresh, lavendel-scented pillows on the bed, that the gate to the park is open. Is your horse fast enough to bring you here? KOVATS Oh, Ilona, moments ago I was rising toward the stars; now you are dragging me back to the past, back to earth, back to the very scent of your garden. Why do you torture me, Ilona? ILONA Why did you leave me, Michael? (a pause) It has been fourteen long months, you know. KOVATS (wonderingly) Fourteen.... ILONA Crows and vagabonds are feasting on the fruits that still grow in your orchard KOVATS let them eat their fill! ILONA Your house: a shelter for brigands KOVATS no objection! ILONA for runaway serfs, KOVATS Excellent! ILONA But why, Michael! There must be a reason?! KOVATS Why... (impatient) I do not know why.... ! Perhaps because there is too much dirt, loo much mud, too much poverty piled up in the huts of men — perhaps because there are too many fancy pearls in the crowns of rulers.... ILONA Is this why you’ve joined that war over there? KOVATS This war over here is called: Revolution! ILONA It is but a word, an expression: “revolution”, must it upset everything?
