ROMAN FEVER

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ACT ONE

Scene 1 1908. Rome, Italy. In the Hotel Foro Romano, there is a terrace that overlooks the remains of the gutted Roman Forum and beyond that, the Coliseum. The Coliseum looms as some cavernous moon, and in the nighttime light streams through rotted holes to illuminate all the devious spaces. The terrace itself is not proportionate to the hotel. It would be more appropriate to have separate balconies for each room, but the architecture accentuates its distended appearance. Tiled and with a baroque style iron fence lining it, the terrace is a gathering place for mainly foreigners. Five café tables dot the terrace, with two chairs at each table. The terrace takes up the entire stage, with three white French doors signaling the entrance to the hotel. A scrim hangs with an image of the Coliseum and “old Rome” printed on it as a view extending beyond the city.

GRACE and ALIDA, old yet distant friends, stand leaning against the balcony. The sunlight signals that it is late afternoon. Two voices, those of BARBARA (GRACE’S daughter) and CECILIA (ALIDA’s daughter), are heard from below the terrace (offstage). GRACE and ALIDA stand on the edge of the terrace (SR).

BARBARA

(Playfully, sarcastically) Well, come along then! And let’s leave the young things to their knitting…

CECILIA Oh, Babs, you know they’re not actually knitting!

BARBARA Well, we haven’t left our poor parents much else to do!

BARBARA and CECILIA can be heard exiting the stairwell below, and the voices dissipate. On the terrace, GRACE and ALIDA look at each other with a nervousness laced with embarrassment. GRACE shakes her head and her cheeks redden.

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GRACE (Under her breath, looks down towards the stairwell) Barbara!

ALIDA Ha! That’s what our daughters think of us!

GRACE Not of us individually. We must remember that. It’s just the collective modern…idea of Mothers. And you see—

GRACE (Continuing) One never knows…We certainly have a good deal of time to kill, with them gallivanting off all the time; and sometimes I get tired just looking—even at this.

GRACE gestures with her head toward the scene below. Both women laugh, and then relapse into silence, looking out at the pink light setting on the lost city before them. Their end of the terrace remains empty. On the opposite end are TOURISTS, a middle-aged man and a woman, packing up their guidebooks and belongings. They quietly exit the terrace, and the women are left alone.

A WAITER comes out to the terrace moments later

to clear the table that was just vacated. ALIDA signals to the waiter. The waiter strides importantly over to the two women. Seeing that they are standing rather awkwardly, the waiter pulls two basket chairs out of the corner for them. They sit and adjust themselves comfortably.

ALIDA

Perhaps we should just settle here for the evening. After all, it is still the most beautiful view in the world.

GRACE It always will be, to me.

ALIDA Well, I suppose you have always been…old fashioned.

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ALIDA adjusts herself in her chair. She is visibly uncomfortable and is continually fidgeting—touching her hair, her watch, etc. Smiling, GRACE reaches into a black handbag to pull out a small twist of crimson yarn held together by two shining knitting needles and begins to knit.

ALIDA

(Continues) It’s a view we’ve both been familiar with for a good many years. Remember when we first met here? We were younger than the girls are now.

GRACE Oh yes, I remember (her voice twitches with stress). There’s that headwaiter, wondering about whether we are staying for dinner or not.

GRACE makes eye contact with the waiter who has been glancing at them. The waiter looks away once he meets her gaze, seemingly ashamed that the women have caught him staring. He continues to adjust the tablecloth.

ALIDA

I’ll cure him of wondering.

ALIDA stretches out her hand to catch the waiter’s attention. The waiter marches over with in cool disposition.

WAITER

Dimmi, Signora.

ALIDA (Speaking a little louder so that the waiter might understand her) I must ask you sir; my friend and I (motions to GRACE) we are old lovers of the city. Might it be okay if we remain here for the end of the afternoon, so we may look down on the view—that is, if it does not disturb the service, of course?

WAITER smiles, nods over her gratuity.

WAITER Si, Signora…We hope then you may stay for dinner. You must, of course, because it is a full moon night.

The WAITER motions to the moon while bowing. ALIDA shifts her position in the chair at the mention of the moon. Her mouth twitches. The

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waiter looks at both of them as his smile fades. He then silently retreats to the opposite end of the terrace, where he resumes arranging table settings for dinner. Despite her apparent discomfort, ALIDA smiles.

ALIDA

(To GRACE) Well, why not stay? We might do worse. There’s no knowing, I suppose, when the girls will return…Do you even know back from where? I don’t!

GRACE’s face flushes almost unnoticeably.

GRACE I think those young Italian aviators we met at the Embassy invited them to fly to Tarquinia for tea. I suppose they’ll want to fly back by moonlight.

GRACE sets her knitting on her lap and twists the ring on her left hand. ALIDA uncrosses and crosses her legs again.

ALIDA

(Almost incredulously) Moonlight—moonlight! What a part it still plays…do you suppose they are as sentimental as we were?

GRACE looks up from her hand.

GRACE I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t in the least know what they are. (She turns to ALIDA) And perhaps we didn’t know much about each other…back then.

ALIDA’s lips form an unusually straight line at the mention of this.

ALIDA

No; perhaps we didn’t.

GRACE I never should’ve supposed you to be sentimental, Alida.

ALIDA Well, perhaps I wasn’t.

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ALIDA closes her eyes, leans her head back slightly. Momentarily, the women seem as if they are no longer there with each other; instead they reflect on how little they really know about each other. ALIDA opens one eye, glances at GRACE very quickly, then resumes leaning her head back and closing her eyes. GRACE picks up her knitting again. A long time goes by without a conversation between the two. Their reflective silence seems to mute the sounds from the street below. Finally, an erratic clanging of bells shatters their silence. ALIDA glances at her watch.

ALIDA

(Sounding surprised) Five o’ clock already!

GRACE (Interrogatively, as if she really wants ALIDA to go) There’s bridge at the embassy at five.

ALIDA takes a few moments to come to an answer. GRACE sets her knitting in the crevice between her crossed legs, and thinks that maybe the remark has escaped ALIDA.

ALIDA

(Seems like she is speaking from a dream) Bridge, you said? Not unless you want to…But, I don’t think I will.

GRACE (Shrugs her shoulders and speaks in a most assuring way) Oh, no. I don’t care to at all. It’s so lovely here; and so full of old memories, as you say.

GRACE settles herself in her chair, furtively drawing her knitting towards her. ALIDA takes sideway note of this activity, but keeps her polished and poised hands on her knee. It’s difficult for her not to move from such a perfect position. Lights begin to dot the street below them. At the opposite end of the terrace, the WAITER sticks his head out the doorway, looks left and right, while the women sit in a sober silence. He steps out, dragging a chair behind him. The sound is awkward against the cement. He sets a candle on a table and lights it. An OLD WOMAN comes out the door behind him. She walks hunched over with a cane.

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OLD WOMAN

(To the WAITER) Ah… Avete il mio libro? (Questions if he has found her book that she left)

The WAITER shakes his head. OLD WOMAN pokes underneath the table with her cane. The waiter assists her. She mumbles incoherently. Finding nothing, they retreat inside. The corner where GRACE and ALIDA sit remains quiet and grows darker.

ALIDA

(Looks down at the tiled ground of the terrace, speaking slowly) I was thinking, what different things Rome stands for to each generation of travellers (her voice is anticipatory) To our grandmothers, Roman fever; to our mothers, sentimental daughters—how we used to be guarded!—to our daughters, no more dangers than the middle of main street. They don’t know it—how much they are missing!

GRACE (Quietly) Ah, the Roman fever.

ALIDA (Ignoring GRACE’s comment, continues) I always used to think, that our mothers had a much more difficult job than our grandmothers. When that horrible Roman fever stalked the streets it must have been comparatively easy to gather in the girls at danger hour; but when you and I were young, with such beauty calling us—and then of course the spice of disobedience thrown in, and no worse risk than catching cold during the cool hour after sunset, the mothers used to put us in—didn’t they?

ALIDA turns to GRACE after asking this, but GRACE is at a seemingly delicate point in her knitting.

GRACE

(To herself) One, two, three—slip two…(then answering ALIDA) Yes, yes…they must’ve been…

ALIDA looks at GRACE with a deeper attention, almost disbelief. A trace of disgust smears her dark face. ALIDA leans back, her eyes wandering across the emptiness of the Forum. ALIDA begins to consider the competiveness of their daughters: how GRACE’s daughter, Barbara, would easily control any situation between herself and man, while ALIDA’s own daughter, Cecilia, would simply stand by as a foil. Thinking of how predictable this

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thought is, ALIDA laughs aloud, barely audibly. At the sound of this, GRACE drops her knitting.

GRACE Yes—?

ALIDA I—oh, nothing. I was only thinking how your Babs carries everything before her. That Campolieri boy is one of the best matches in Rome. (ALIDA glances at GRACE, to check her expression, then smiles) Don’t look so innocent, my dear, you know he is. And I was wondering, ever so respectfully, you understand, how two such exemplary characters as you and Horace had managed to produce anything quite so dynamic.

GRACE seems to detect the tacit sarcasm. Her hands lay inert on the knitting needles. She looks out soberly across the spectacular and disfigured view. She bears little expression.

GRACE

(Delicately) I think you overrate Babs, my dear.

ALIDA No; I don’t. I appreciate her. And perhaps envy you…Oh, my girl is perfect; If I were a chronic invalid I think I’d rather be in Cecilia’s hands. There must be times…but there! I always wanted a brilliant daughter…and I never quite understood why I got an angel instead.

GRACE (Laughing) Babs is an angel, too.

ALIDA Of course—of course! But she’s got rainbow wings. Well, they’re wandering by the sea with their young men; and here we sit. It all brings back the past a little too…acutely.

ALIDA stands up and leans against the balcony edge. The vastness of the sight seems to only increase her exasperation. She turns toward the Coliseum. Purple shadows drape around it. She turns back and rests her hand gently on GRACE’S arm, but ALIDA’S eyes are hard. The gesture is so abrupt that GRACE looks up at her friend, startled.

ALIDA

The sun’s set. You’re not afraid, my dear?

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GRACE (Looking a little bewildered) Afraid—?

ALIDA Of Roman fever or pneumonia, of course. I remember how ill you were that winter. As a girl you had a very delicate throat, didn’t you?

GRACE (Looking more relieved) Oh, we’re alright up here. Down below, in the Forum, it does get deathly cold, all of a sudden…but not here.

ALIDA Ah, of course you know. Because you had to be so careful. (ALIDA turns back to the balcony and the view) Whenever I look at the Forum from up here I remember that story about a great-aunt of yours, wasn’t she? A dreadfully wicked great-aunt?

GRACE Oh yes. Great-aunt Harriet—

GRACE tries to hide her murmured laugh, but her face recoils into a reminiscent look: eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing into a small, distant point buried deep within the bricks of the Forum.

GRACE

(Continues) The one who was supposed to have sent her young sister out to the Forum after sunset to gather a night-blooming flower for her album. All our great-aunts and grandmothers used to have albums of dried flowers.

ALIDA nods, as if she has already heard the story many times and only asks GRACE for the sake of hearing it again)

ALIDA

But she really sent her because they were in love with the same man—

GRACE (Clearing her throat) Well, that was the family tradition. They said Aunt Harriet confessed it years afterward. At any rate, the poor little sister caught the fever and died. Mother used to frighten us with the story when we were children.

ALIDA (Laughing and shaking her head) And you frightened me with it, that winter when you and I were here as girls. The winter I was engaged to Delphin…

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GRACE laughs faintly, if she’s both annoyed and amused that ALIDA would mention something so stupid.

GRACE

Oh, did I? Really—frightened you? I don’t believe you are easily frightened.

ALIDA looks at something on the ground, her head cocked. She kills a bug with the toe of her shoe.

ALIDA

Not often, but I was then. I was easily frightened because I was too happy. I wonder if you know what that means?

GRACE (Faltering) I—yes…

ALIDA (Snapping back at her) Well, I suppose that was why the story of your wicked aunt made such an impression on me. And I thought: there’s no more Roman fever, but the Forum is deathly cold after sunset—especially after a hot day. And the Coliseum’s even colder and damper.

GRACE (Looking up from the knitting towards the circular looming structure) The Coliseum?

ALIDA (Looks to the Coliseum also) Yes. It wasn’t easy to get in, after those gates were locked for the night. Far from easy, actually. Still, in those days it could be managed; it was managed, often. Lovers met there who couldn’t meet elsewhere. You knew that?

GRACE (Slightly blushing, stammering) I—I daresay. I don’t remember.

ALIDA (Looking both amused and surprised) You don’t remember? You don’t remember going to visit some ruins or other one evening, just after dark, and catching a bad chill? You were supposed to have gong to see the moon rise. People always said that expedition was what caused your illness.

A terse pause bubbles between them, while ALIDA stares at GRACE unflinchingly. Finally, GRACE speaks, looking at ALIDA sweetly.

GRACE

Did they? It was all so long ago.

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ALIDA (Brushes something off her sleeve, seemingly embarrassed) Yes. And you got well again—so it didn’t matter. But I suppose it struck your friends—the reason given for your illness, I mean—because everyone knew you were so prudent on account of your throat, and your mother took such care of you…(peers at GRACE out the corner of her eye) You had been out late sight-seeing that night, correct?

GRACE Perhaps I had. I can’t remember. What made you think of it now?

ALIDA seems to have no reply, shakes her head at GRACE, then looks to the ground. She brings to head back up to reach GRACE’S gaze with a trace of a sneer.

ALIDA

(Breaking out) Well, I simply cannot bear it any longer—!

GRACE looks up from her knitting quickly, her eyes wide and her face pale.

GRACE

Can’t bear what?

ALIDA grips the balcony, as if she is holding on with all her being.

ALIDA: Why—your not knowing that I’ve always known you went! GRACE: I went—?

ALIDA (Rubbing her forehead in angst) Yes. You think I’m bluffing, don’t you? Well, you went to meet the man I was engaged to—and I can repeat every word of the letter that took you there.

As ALIDA speaks, GRACE slowly rises unsteadily from the chair. Her bag, her knitting, and her gloves, slide off her lap onto the tiled terrace floor. She looks at ALIDA as if she were looking at a ghost.

GRACE No, no—don’t…Perhaps we should leave…

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GRACE starts to put her belongings together.

ALIDA (Ignoring her friend’s urgency) Why not? Listen if you don’t believe me: (mockingly) “my one darling, things can’t go on like this. I must see you alone. Come to the Coliseum immediately after dark tomorrow. There will be somebody there to let you in. No one whom you need fear will suspect”—perhaps you’ve forgotten what the letter said?

GRACE exhibits unexpected composure, taking ALIDA by surprise. GRACE steadies herself against the chair, and looks at her friend.

GRACE

No; I know it by heart too.

ALIDA (Looking directly at GRACE, speaking shrilly) And the signature? ‘Only your D.D.S.’? Was that it? I’m right, aren’t I? That was the letter that you took out that evening after dark?

ALIDA subtly smirks as she can see GRACE’S clean and composed façade is slowly being dismantled. GRACE interrupts ALIDA’s small victory.

GRACE

I don’t know how you knew. I burnt that letter at once.

ALIDA (Spitting out her words) Yes; you would know naturally—you’re so prudent! (Now sneers openly) And if you burnt the letter, you’re wondering how on earth I know what was in it. That’s it, isn’t it?

GRACE looks at ALIDA. Both women are unsure of what to say.

ALIDA

(Finally, her words tumbling out) Well, my dear, I know what was in the letter because I wrote it!

GRACE (Looking bewildered) You wrote it?

ALIDA (Snaps) Yes!

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The two women stand staring at each other for a minute. Then, GRACE drops back into her chair.

GRACE

(Barely audible) Oh.

GRACE covers her face with her hands. ALIDA stands, shifting on her feet, waiting nervously for another word or movement from her friend.

ALIDA (Her words breaking out) I—I horrify you.

GRACE’s hands drop on her knees heavily. Her face is streaked with tears.

GRACE

(Quietly) I wasn’t thinking of you. I was thinking—it was the only letter I ever had from him!

ALIDA (Less harsh but with resolution) And I wrote it. Yes; I wrote it! But I was the girl he was engaged to. Did you happen to remember that?

GRACE I’m not trying to excuse myself…I remembered…

ALIDA And you still went?

GRACE (Refusing to meet ALIDA’s stern gaze) Still, I went.

ALIDA’S anger appears to have dissipated. Feeling as though she has inflicted a deep wound, she speaks again, more softly this time, in attempts to justify herself.

ALIDA

You do understand? I’d found out—and I hated you, hated you. I knew you were in love with Delphin—and I was afraid; afraid of you, of your quiet ways, your sweetness…your…well…

GRACE looks at ALIDA inquisitively, eyebrows raised and curiosity peaked.

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ALIDA (Continues) I wanted you out of the way, that’s all. Just for a few weeks; just till I was sure of him. So I wrote you that letter in a blind fury hoping you would go out in the chilled night and catch ill…I’m not sure why I’m telling you this now.

GRACE (Turning away from ALIDA, more to herself) I suppose… it’s because you’ve always gone on hating me.

ALIDA

Perhaps. Or because I wanted to get the whole thing off my mind.

ALIDA inhales, pauses briefly. Her tone is more upbeat now.

ALIDA

(Continues, ignoring GRACE’s response) I’m glad you destroyed the letter…Of course, I never thought you’d die.

GRACE sits quietly, looking resigned.

ALIDA (Distressed) You think me a monster!

GRACE I don’t know…it was the only letter I had. And you say he didn’t write it?

ALIDA Ah! How you care for him still!

GRACE (Suddenly looking away from her friend as if something has pained her) I cared for that memory.

Moments of silence pass. ALIDA’S anger dissipates; she looks physically defeated by this tender revelation. Upon realizing her vulnerability her jealously reignites.

ALIDA

You tried your best to get him away from me, didn’t you? (Almost laughing) But you failed. And I kept him. That’s all.

GRACE (Quietly) Yes, that’s all.

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ALIDA I wish now I hadn’t told you. I’d no idea you’d feel about it as you do; I thought you’d be amused. It all happened so long ago, as you say; and you must do me the justice to remember that I had no reason to think you’d ever taken it seriously. How could I, when you were married to Horace Ansley two months afterward?

GRACE Well, I—I…

ALIDA (Speaks more to herself now in a reassuring manner) As soon as you recovered from that case of Roman fever and could get out of your bed, your mother rushed you off to Florence and married you. People were rather surprised—they wondered at its being done so quickly; but I thought I knew. I had an idea you did it out of pique—to be able to say you got ahead of Delphin and me.

ALIDA She looks up at the tree line and shakes her head.

(Continues) Girls have such silly reasons for doing the most serious things. And your marrying so soon convinced me that you’d never really cared.

GRACE Yes, I suppose it would.

ALIDA I suppose I did it as a sort of joke—

GRACE A joke?

ALIDA (Nervously) Well, girls are ferocious sometimes, you know. Girls in love especially. And I remember laughing to myself all that evening at the idea that you were waiting around there in the dark, dodging out of sight, listening for every sound, trying to get in the Coliseum—of course, I regretted it when I heard you were so ill afterward.

GRACE remains extremely still while ALIDA speaks, even her expression. She now turns to face ALIDA slowly.

GRACE

But I didn’t wait. He’d arranged everything. He was there. We were let in at once.

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ALIDA, who is leaning back in her chair, springs forward. Her speech is blurred with violence and surprise.

ALIDA

Delphin—there?! They let you in!?—Ah, now you are lying!

GRACE (Shakes her head lightly, her voice is clear) But of course he was there. Naturally, he came—

ALIDA Came?! How did he know he’d find you there? You must be raving!

GRACE hesitates, looks down at her hand and twists her rings, apparently reflecting.

GRACE

But I answered the letter. I told him I’d be there. So he came.

ALIDA flings her hands to up and covers her face in unfiltered despair.

ALIDA

Oh God, you answered! I never thought you would answer…

GRACE

It’s odd you never thought of it—you wrote the letter.

ALIDA Yes…I was just so angry…I thought it would be a test for him—for both of you—maybe there was a chance that he didn’t really want you…

GRACE rises, wraps her fur scarf around her. GRACE: It’s cold here. We’d better go…I’m sorry for you.

GRACE fastens her scarf with a muted click. She picks up her bag. ALIDA is still sitting, no longer distraught but simply shocked.

ALIDA: Yes, we’d better go.

ALIDA stands and picks up her bag and cloak in an absentminded manner.

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ALIDA

(Continues, muttering) I don’t know why you should be sorry for me.

GRACE looks away from ALIDA towards the Coliseum.

GRACE: Well, because I didn’t have to wait that night…Because your plan didn’t work.

ALIDA (Laughing nervously and somewhat angrily) Yes, I was beaten there. But I oughtn’t begrudge it to you, I suppose. At the end of all these years. After all, I had everything; I had him for twenty-five years. And you had nothing but that one letter that he didn’t write.

GRACE walks towards the door (UCS). Her right hand rests on the doorframe. GRACE turns back to ALIDA who is still standing on the terrace, looking dumbfounded.

GRACE

I had Barbara.

GRACE exits through the doorway.

SCENE END