"A SUNNY MORNING" A One Act Play By SERAFIN AND JOAQUIN ALVAREZ QUINTERO

THE CIVIC REPERTORY THEAIRE;, Inc.
(Eva Le Gallienne, Director)

Present
"A SUNNY MORNING"

A One Act Play

By

SERAFIN AND JOAQUIN ALVAREZ QUINTERO




Translated from the Spanish by Lucretia Xavier Floyd

Arranged for The Civic Repertory Theatre by
John Garrett Underbill

CAST OF CHARACTERS

DoxA Laura Ei'a Le Gallienne

Petra, her maid Josephine Hutchinson

Don Gonzalo Egon Brecher

JuANiTO, Jiis scri'aiit Robert Ross

Scene : ^i retired corher in a Park in Madrid.

Time : The present.


A Sunny Morning



Scene : A sunny morning in a retired corner of a
park in Madrid. Autumn. A bench at Right.
DoxA Laura, a handsome, white-haired old
lady of about seventy, refined in appearance, her
bright eyes and entire manner giving evidence
that despite her age her mental faculties are
iimmpaircd, enters leaning upon the arm of her
maid, Petra. In her free hand she carries a
parasol, which serves also as a cane.

DoxA Laura. I am so glad to be here. I feared
my seat would be occupied. What a beautiful morn-
ing !

Petra. The sun is hot.

DoxA Laura. Yes, you are only twenty. (She sits
dozvn on the bench.) Oh, I feel more tired today
than usual. (Noticing Petra, ivho seems impatient)
Go, if you wish to chat with your guard.

Petra. He is not mine, sefiora; he belongs to the
park.

DoxA Laura. He belongs more to you than he
does to the park. Go find him, but remain within
calling distance.

Petra. I see him over there waiting for me.

DoxA Laura. Do not remain more than ten min-
utes.

Petra. Very well, sefiora. (Walks toward R.)

DoxA Laura. Wait a moment.
5



6 A SUNNY MORNING

Petra. What does the senora wish ?

Dona Laura. Give me the l)read crumbs.

Petra. I don't know what is the matter with me.

DoxXA Laura. (Smiling) I do. Your head is
where your heart is — with the guard.

Petra. Here, senora. (SJic hands Doxa Laura a
small bag. Exit Petra by R.j

Dona Laura. Adios. (Glances tozvard trees at r.)
Here they comc^.l/They know just when to expect
me. (She rises, zmlks tozuard r., and throzvs three
handfuls of bread crumbs) These are for the spry-
est, these for the gluttons, and these for the httle
ones which are the most persistent. (Laughs. She
returns to licr seat and watclies, zvith a pleased ex-
pression, the pigeons feeding) There, that big oae
is always lirst ! I know him by his big head. Now

one, now another, now two, now three That

little fellow is the least timid. I believe he would
eat from my hand. That one takes his piece and
flies up to that branch alone. He is a philosopher.
But where do they all come from? It seems as if
the news had spread. Ha, ha ! Don't quarrel. There
is enough for all. I'll bring more tomorrow.

(Enter Don Gonzalo and Juanito from l.c. Don
GoNZALO. is an old gentleman of seventy, gouty
and impatient. He leans upon Juanito's arm
and drags his feet soniezuJiat as lie zvalks.)

Don Gonzalo. Idling their time away ! They
should be saying mass.

Juanito. You can sit here, senor. There is only
a lady. (Dona Lautja turns her head and listens.)

Don Gonzalo. I won't, Juanito. I want a bench
to myself.

Juanito. But there is none.

Don Gonzalo. That one over there is mine.

Juanito. There are three priests sitting there.



A SUNNY MORNING 7

Don Gonzalo. Rout them out. Have they gone?

JuANiTO. No, indeed. They are talking.

Don Gonzalo. Just as if they were gkied to the
seat. No hope of their leaving. Come this way,
Juanito. (They zvulk tozmrd the birds, Right.)

DoxA Laura. (Indignantly) Look out !

Don Gonzalo. Are you speaking to me, seiiora?

DoxA Laura. Yes, to you.

Don Gonzalo. What do you wish?

DoxA Laura. You have scared away the birds
who were feeding on my crumbs.

Don Gonzalo. What do I care about the birds?

DoxA Laura. But I do.

Don Gonzalo. This is a public park.

Dona Laura. Then why do you complain that the
priests have taken your bench?

Don Gox'zalo. Sefiora, we have not met. 1 cannot
imagine why you take the liberty of addressing me.
Come, Juanito. (Both go out r.)

Doxa Laura. What an ill-natured old man ! Why
must people get so fussy and cross when they reach
a certain age? (Looking toward R.j I am glad. He
lost that bench, too. Serves him right for scaring
the birds. He is furious. Yes, yes ; find a seat if
you can. Poor man ! He is wiping the perspiration
from his face. Here he comes. A carriage would
not raise more dust than his feet. (Enter Don Gon-
zalo and Juanito by r. and walk tozvavd l. j

Don Gonzalo. Have the priests gone yet, Juanito ?

Juanito. No, indeed, seiior. They are still there.

Don Gonzalo. The authorities should place more
benches here for these sunny mornings. Well, I sup-
pose I must resign myself and sit on the bench with
the old lady. (Muttering to himself, he sits at the
extreme end of Dona Laura's bench and looks at
her indignantly. Touches his hat as he greets her)
Good morning.

Doxa Laura. What, you here again ?



8 A SUNNY MORNING

Don Gonzalo. I repeat that wc have not met.

Dona Laura. I was responding to your salute.

Don Gonzalo. "Good morning" should be an-
swered by "good morning," and that is all you
should have said.

DoxA Laura. You should have asked permission
to sit on this bench, which is mine.

Don Gonzalo. The benches here are public prop-
erty.

Dona Laura. Why, you said the one the priests
have was yours.

Don Gonzalo. Very well, very well. I have
nothing more to say. (Between Jiis teeth) Senile old
lady ! She ought to be at home knitting and counting
her beads.

Dona Laura. Don't grumble any more. I'm not
going to leave just to please you.

Don Gonzalo. (Brushing tJic duct from Jiis shoes
with his handkerchief) If the ground were sprinkled
a little it would be an improvement.

Dona Laura. Do you use your handkerchief as a
shoe brush?

Don Gonzalo. Why not?

Dona Laura. Do you use a shoe brush as a hand-
kerchief ?

Don Gonzalo. What right have you to criticize
my actions?

Dona Laura. A neighbor's right.

Don Gonzalo. Juanito, m}^ book. I do not care
to listen to nonsense.

Dona Laura. You are very polite.

Don Gonzalo. Pardon me, ccnora, but never in-
terfere with what does not concern you.

Dona Laura. I generally say what I think.

Don Gonzalo. And more to the same effect.
Give me the book, Juanito.

Juanito. Here, senor. (Juanito takes a hook
from his pocket, hands it to Don Gonzalo, then



A SUNNY MORNING 9

exits by R. Don Gonzalo, casting indignant glances
at Dona Laura, puts on an enormous pair of
glasses, takes from his pocket a reading-glass, ad-
justs both to suit him, and opens his hook.)

Dona Laura. I thought you were taking out a
telescope.

Don Gonzalo. Was that you?

Dona Laura. Your sight must be keen.

Don Gonzalo. Keener than yours is. —

Dona Laura. Yes, evidently.

Don Gonzalo. Ask the hares and partridges.

Dona Laura. Ah ! Do you hunt ?

Don Gonzalo. I did, and even now

Dona Laura. Oh, yes, of course !

Don Gonzalo. Yes, sefiora. Every Sunday I take
my gun and dog, you understand, and go to one of
my estates near Aravaca and kill time.

Dona Laura. Yes, kill time. That is all you kill.

Don Gonzalo. Do you think so? I could show
you a wild boar's head in my study

Dona Laura. Yes, and I could show you a tiger's
skin in my boudoir. What does that prove?

Don Gonzalo. Very well, senora, please allow
me to read. Enough conversation.

Dona Laura. Well, you subside, then.

Don Gonzalo. But first I shall take a pinch of
snuff. (Takes out snuff box) Will you have some?
(Offers box to Dona Laura. J

Dona Laura. If it is good.

Don Gonzalo. It is of the finest. You will like it.

Dona Laura. (Taking pinch of snuff) It clears
my head.

Don Gonzalo. And mine.

Dona Laura. Do you sneeze ?

Don Gonzalo. Yes, senora, three times.

Dona Laura. And so do I. What a coincidence!
(After taking the snuff, they azvait tJie sneezes, both f(^{j^
anxiously, and sneeze alternately three times each.) ,. /,.



10 A SUNNY MORNING

Don Gonzalo. There, I feel l)etter.

Dona Laura. So do I. (Aside) The snuff has
made peace between us.

Don Gonzalo. You will excuse me if I read
aloud ?

Dona Laura. Read as loud as you please ; you will
not disturb me.

Don Gonzalo. (Reading) "All love is sad, but
sad as it is, it is the best thing that we know." That
is from Campoamor.

Dona Laura. Ah!

Don Gonzalo. (Reading) "The daughters of
the mothers I once loved kiss me now as they would
a graven image." Those lines, I take it, are in a
humorous vein.

Dona Laura. (Laughing) I take them so, too.

Don Gonzalo. There are some beautiful poems
in this book. Here. "Twenty years pass. He re-
turns."

Dona Laura. You cannot imagine how it affects
me to see you reading with all those glasses.

Don Gonzalo. Can you read without any?

Dona Laura. Certainly.

Don Gonzalo. At your age? You're jesting.

Dona Laura. Pass me the book, then. (Takes
]njj^\ book; reads aloud)
,. ',; ■'■'- "Twenty years pass. He returns.

And each, beholding the other, exclaims —
Can it be that this is he ?
Heavens, is it she?"
(Dona Laura returns the hook to Don Gonzalo. j

Don Gonzalo. Indeed, I envy you your wonder-
ful eyesight.

Dona Laura, (Aside) I know every word by
heart.

Don Gonzalo. I am very fond of good verses,
very fond. I even composed some in my youth.

Dona Laura. Good ones?




"A Sunny Morning"



See Page 7



A SUNNY MORNING ii

Don Gonzalo. Of all kinds. I was a great friend
of Espronceda/Zorrilla, Becquer, and others. 1 first
met Zorrilla in America.

Dona Laura. Why, have you been in America?

Don Gonzalo. Several times. The first time I
went I was only six years old.

Dona Laura. You must have gone with Colum-
bus in one of his caravels !

Don Gonzalo. (Laughing) Not quite as bad as
that. I am old, I admit, but I did not know Ferdi-
nand and Isabella. (TJiey both laugh.) I was also a
great friend of Campoamor. I met him in Valencia.
I am a native of that city.

Dona Laura. You are?

Don Gonzalo. I was brought up there and there I
spent my early youth. Have you ever visited that
city?

Dona Laura. Yes, senor. Not far from Valencia
there was a villa that, if still there, should retain
memories of me. I spent several seasons there. It
was many, many years ago. It was near the sea,
hidden away among lemon and orange trees. They
called it — let me see, what did they call it — Maricela.

Don Gonzalo. (Startled) Maricela?

Dona Laura. Alaricela. Is the name familiar to
you?

Don Gonzalo. Yes, very familiar. If my mem-
ory serves me right, for we forget as we grow old,
there lived in that villa the most beautiful woman I
have ever seen, and I assure you I have seen many.
Let me see — what was her name? Laura — Laura —
Laura Llorente.

Dona Laura. (Startled) Laura Llorente ?

Don Gonzalo. Yes. (They look at each other
intently.)

Dona Laura. (Recovering herself) Nothing.
You reminded me of my best friend.



f



12 A SUNNY MORNING

Don Gonzalo. How strange !

Dona Laura. It is strange. She was called "The
Silver Maiden."

Don Gonzalo. Precisely, **The Silver Maiden."
By that name she was known in that locality. I
seem to see her as if she were before me now, at
that window with the red roses. Do you remember
that window?

DoxA Laura. Yes, I remember. It was the win-
dow of her room.

Don Gonzalo. She spent many hours there. I
mean in my day.
^ Dona Laura. (Sighing) And in mine. too.

Don Gonzalo. She was ideal. Fair as a lily, jet
black hair and black eyes, with an uncommonly sweet
expression. She seemed to cast a radiance wherever
she was. Her figure was beautiful, perfect. "What
forms of sovereign beauty God models in human
clay !" She was a dream.

Dona Laura. (Aside) If you but knew that
dream was now by your side, you would realize
what dreams come to. (Aloud) She was very un-
fortunate and had a sad love afifair.

Don Gonzalo. Very sad. (TJiey look at each
other.)

Dona Laura. Did you hear of it ?

Don Gonzalo. Yes.

DoxA Laura. The ways of Providence are strange.
(Aside) Gonzalo!

Don Gonzalo. The gallant lover, in the same af-
fair

Dona Laura. Ah, the duel?

Don Gonzalo. Precisely, the duel. The gallant
lover was — my cousin, of whom I was very fond.

DoxA Laura. Oh, yes, a cousin? ?^Iy friend
told me in one of her letters the story of that afifair,
which was truly romantic. He, your cousin, passed



A SUNNY MORNING 13

by on horseback every morning down the rose path
under her window, and tossed up to her balcony a
bouquet of flowers which she caught.

Don Gonzalo. And later in the afternoon the gal-
lant horseman would return by the same path, and
catch the bouquet of flowers she would toss him.
Am I right?

DoxA Laura. Yes. They wanted to marry her to
a merchant whom she would not have.

Don Gonzalo. And one night, when my cousin
waited under her window to hear her sing, this other
person presented himself unexpectedly.

Doxa Laura. And insulted your cousin.

Don Gonzalo. There was a quarrel.

Doxa Laura. And later a duel.

Don Gonzalo. Yes, at sunrise, on the beach, and
the merchant was badly wounded. My cousin had
to conceal himself for a few days and later to fly.

Doxa Laura. You seem to know the story well.

Don Gonzalo. And so do you.

Doxa Laura. I have explained that a friend re-
peated it to me.

Don Gonzalo. As my cousin did to me. (Aside)
This is Laura !

Doxa Laura. (Aside) Why tell him? He does
not suspect.

Don Gonzalo. (Aside) She is entirely innocent.

Doxa Laura. And was it you, by any chance,
who advised your cousin to forget Laura?

Don Gonzalo. Why, my cousin never forgot her!

Doxa Laura. How do you account, then, for his
conduct ?

Don Gonzalo. I will tell you. The young man
took refuge in my house, fearful of the consequences
of a duel with a person highly regarded in that lo-
cality. From my home he went to Seville, then came
to Madrid. He wrote Laura many letters, some of



14 f



SUNNY MORNING



them in verse . But undou1)te(lly they were inter-
cepted by her parents, for she never answered at all.
Gonzalo then, in despair, believing his love lost to
him forever, joined the army, went to Africa, and
there, in a trench, met a glorious death, grasping
the flag of Spain and whispering the name of his
beloved Laura

DoxA Laura. (Aside) What an atrocious lie !

Don Gonzalo. (Aside) I could not have killed
myself more gloriously.

DoxA Laura. You must have been prostrated by
the calamity.

Don Gonzalo. Yes, indeed, senora. As if he
were my brother. I presume, though, on the con-
trary, that Laura in a short time was chasing butter-
flies in her garden, indifferent to regret.

DoxA Laura. No, senor, no !

Don Gonzalo. It is woman's way.

DoxA Laura. Even if it were woman's way, **The
Silver Maiden" was not of that disposition. My
friend awaited news for days, months, a year, and
no letter came. One afternoon, just at sunset, as the
first stars were appearing, she was seen to leave the
house, and with quickening steps wend her way
toward the beach, the beach where her beloved had
risked his life. She wrote his name on the sand,
then sat down upon a rock, her gaze fixed upon the
horizon. The waves murmured their eternal thren-
ody and slowly crept up to the rock where the maiden
sat. The tide rose with a boom and swept her out
to sea.

Don Gonzalo. Good heavens !

DoxA Laura. The fishermen of that shore who
often tell the story affirm that it was a long time be-
fore the waves washed away that name written on
the sand. (Aside) You will not get ahead of me in
decorating my own funeral.



A SUNNY MORNING 15

Don Gonzalo. (Aside) She lies worse than I do.

Dona Laura. Poor Laura !

Don Gonzalo. Poor Gonzalo !

Dona Laura. (Aside) I will not tell him that I
married two years later.

Don Gonzalo. (Aside) In three months I ran
off to Paris with a ballet dancer.

Dona Laura. Fate is curious. Here are you and
I, complete strangers, met by chance, discussing the
romance of old friends of long ago ! We have been
conversing as if we were old friends.

Don Gonzalo. Yes, it is curious, considering the
ill-natured prelude to our conversation.

Dona Laura. You scared away the birds.

Don Gonzalo. I was unreasonable, perhaps.

Dona Laura. Yes, that was evident. (Szveetly)
Are you coming again tomorrow ?

Don Gonzalo. Most certainly, if it is a sunny
morning. And not only will I not scare away the
birds, but I will ])ring a few crumbs.

Dona Laura. Thank you very much. Birds are
grateful and repay attention. I wonder where my
maid is? Petra ! (Signals for her maid.)

Don Gonzalo. (Aside, looking at Laura, whose
back is turned) No, no, I will not reveal myself. I
am grotesque now. Better that she recall the gallant
horseman who passed daily beneath her window toss-
ing flowers.

Dona Laura. Here she comes.

Don Gonzalo. That Juanito! He plays havoc
with the nursemaids. (Looks r. and signals ivith his
hand.)

Dona Laura. (Aside, looking at Gonzalo. whose
back is turned) No, I am too sadly changed. It is
better he should remember me as the black-eyed girl
tossing flowers as he passed among the roses in the
garden. (Juanito enters by r., Petra by l. She has
a bunch of violets in her hand.)



i6 A SUNNY MORNING

Dona Laura. Wdk-^Petcial^ALlast!

Don Gonzalo. Juanito, you are late.

Petra. (To Dona Laura; The guard gave me
these violets for you, sefiora,

Doxa Laura. How very nice ! Thank him inr me.
They are fragrant. (As she takes the violets jyom
her maid a few loose ones fall to the ground.)

Don Gonzalo. My dear lady, this has been a
great honor and a great pleasure.

Dona Laura. It has also been a pleasure to me.

Don Gonzalo. Goodbye until tomorrow.

Dona Laura. Until tomorrow.

Don Gonzalo. If it is sunny.

Dona Laura. A sunny morning. \M11 you go to
your bench?

Don Gonzalo. No, I will come to this — if you do
not object?

Dona Laura. This bench is at your disposal.

Don Gonzalo. And I will surely bring the
crumbs.

Dona Laura. Tomorrow, then?

Don Gonzalo. Tomorrow !

(Laura walks away toivard r., supported by her
Maid. Gonzalo, before leazmg with Juanito,
trembling and wnth a great effort, stoops to pick
up the violets Laura dropped. Just then Laura
turns her head and surprises him picking up the
flowers.)

Juanito. What are you doing, senor?

Don Gonzalo. Juanito, wait

Dona Laura. (Aside) Yes, it is he!
Don Gonzalo. (.Iside) It is she, and no mistake.
(Dona Laura and Don Gonzalo wave farewell.)
Dona Laura. "Can it be that this is he?"
Don Gonzalo. "Heavens, is it she?" (They smile



A SUNNY MORNING 17

once more, as if she were again at the windozv and
he belozv in the rose garden, and then disappear upon
the arms of their servants.)

CURTAIN



"A SUNNY MORNING"

"A Sunny Morning," the most popular of the
shorter Quintero plays, is especially adapted to
Amateur and Little Theatre production. Few light
comedies have been so successful internationally,
whether presented in Spanish, Italian, English,
French or German.

"A Sunny Morning" has been a feature in Eva
Le Gallienne's repertory since the season of 1928-
1929. With Miss Alice Lewisohn as Doua Laura,
it was a favorite during several seasons at the
Neighborhood Playhouse, New York City. Among
other performances, those of the Amateur Comedy
Club, New York, and the Toy Theatre, Boston, de-
serve mention. The foreign productions are num-
berless. With the exception of Miss Jane Cowl's
**]\lalvaloca," offered under the auspices of the Act-
ors' Theatre, "A Sunny Morning" is the only .one
of the more widely known Quintero plays to be acted
in English.