Night. The city square. Many people mill about. Samir sells magic at his booth.
Chorus. We are a petty bourgeois people
With a functional view of wrong and right.
Sometimes, we make mistakes, but we believe
That the average, ordinary motion of our lives
Will last longer and prove stronger than explosive Romanticism.
Cato enters, carrying Haven.
Cato. Are you looking forward to the ship?
I will not forget you for a moment.
There are no distractions for me now.
Music has been put away,
I will fling myself into charity…
Chorus. Someone has to make the food,
Someone has to build the house,
Someone has to teach the children.
This is good enough.
Sebastian, dressed like a ship’s captain, suddenly appears.
Sebastian. Are you ready to leave?
I see no baggage.
Cato. We take nothing with us.
We are purging ourselves.
Finally my reason
Has overcome my emotion
And this victory is sweet
And bitter.
Sebastian. All victories are sweet and bitter.
Follow me to the ship.
Let us sing a song of victory!
Cato. I hurt like a raw wound
And music slips into the flesh
And rubs laughingly among the blood
I have to howl and snap
To drive it away
Otherwise I’ll cry!
…When I say that I hate music,
I do not mean that I am no longer obsessed with it.
I only mean that it hurts me,
It hurts me so that I can’t bear it,
And I need to run and hide from it.
There will be no more songs.
Sebastian, Cato, and Haven disappear into the crowd. Lilith appears next to Samir.
Samir. Why are you here, little one?
Lilith. Sir, I wonder
If I may go home
You seem to have no more need of me.
Samir. I know better than that, you contumelious calumniator
I know the ways of magic work
Along the lines of blood.
Besides, you may still be useful.
Lilith. I can’t possibly see how.
Samir ignores her, seeking out a potential customer.
Lilith. I don’t know
If people don’t want to hear me speak,
Or if they just don’t know
How to respond.
…Or
If they don’t want to hear me
And they don’t know how to respond.
Bowing, Lilith exits. Nixie, followed by Lucien, makes her way through the crowd to Samir.
Nixie. Good evening, sir.
Samir. Good evening, immortal sister.
I hear you have rejected
Your Creator-given purpose,
And that the millpond now is safe.
Nixie. My life wearies me.
Samir. Suicide for the immortal?
It’s a very difficult thing.
But possible, very possible…
How would you like to do it?
Nixie. Actually, I was looking for a knife—
Samir. A knife! It’s perfect.
Here is one of mine.
Wait a moment while I prepare it.
Samir produces a knife, seemingly from nowhere. He mumbles magic words while mixing a disgusting salve, which he smears over the knife.
Samir. But you can only use it once—
Don’t let it touch blood until
You are ready to die.
This concoction is made of such light
As to extinguish the shadow,
Eliminate the soul.
Now this is an expensive request.
How much are you willing to pay?
Here, this boy,
Is he yours?
Nixie. You’re looking for an apprentice?
Samir. Not so much an apprentice
As a slave.
I need a boy to clean my evil lair
And periodically to donate his blood for my brew.
Nixie. This boy is clean and bloody.
If this boy will pay for the knife,
Then he’s yours.
Samir. And here is your knife.
Lucien. Goddess, I’m not sure I understand—
Nixie. Did you not want to perceive sensation?
Lucien. I did. Will this bring me what I desire?
Samir. Experience is available for those willing to take risks.
Lucien. Then I will obey.
Nixie. Though I am shining
In diamond splendor,
No ray falls
Into the darkness of my heart.
You’ve known it well
For a long time.
You saw me in your dream,
And you saw the darkness in my heart,
And you saw the snake
That feeds upon my heart.
You saw how utterly wretched I am.
Nixie turns on her heel and strides determinedly away, leaving Lucien with Samir.
Lucien. Sir, I am not sure
Of what I should do.
Samir. You wait here, while I
Stride about, selling.
Here, girl!
Lilith appears.
Samir. Take charge of this boy.
He is to be mine for a while,
For the bleeding.
You know what will happen
If there is any trouble.
…I don’t like to elaborate on threats
Because it restricts my creative freedom afterwards.
Samir binds them to each other with rope, then walks among the crowd.
Lucien. My name is Lucien
I’m the miller’s eldest son.
What is your name?
Lilith. My name was Lilith,
I was the Erl-King’s only daughter
The dark daemonic dancer,
And now alone and violently violated.
Lilith and Lucien maneuver to a comfortable position in Samir’s booth.
Lilith. Do men sing to themselves?
Are their emotions
As strong as mine?
Do they throw themselves,
With wide-eyed innocence,
Into love?
Do their hearts inflate with excitement?
Do their lungs feel heavy with grief?
Or is it only an appearance,
Exaggerated by strong words
And raised eyebrows?
If there were only one man in the world
Who sang to himself,
Hope might be kept,
Like a glowing coal
Buried in ashes.
I no longer believe men are poets.
No, I have never believed it.
Will not someone
Prove me wrong?
Lucien. I cannot prove you wrong—
I have neither the knowledge nor the skill
To make poems and songs—
But I would like to!
The urge to create wells up
And threatens to explode
And the pent-up frustration
Of thwarted inspiration
Leaves my heart inflated
And my lungs heavy with grief.
I promise, there is no appearance
That can be stronger than my soul.
Lilith and Lucien huddle in a corner. Nixie appears in front of the Temple.
Nixie. This is unexpected—
I hold here in my hand
The power unlooked for, unhoped for.
With this knife I could end my misery.
How I’ve longed for this!
With a minimum of effort I could have rest.
But, no, Aubrey is enslaved.
Surely that is more immediate than my boredom.
This is my duty as his friend,
And I submit in idealistic glory.
Mayhap the knowledge of my moral victory
Will offset the misery of several days.
And it may be that such a selfless act
Will nudge me closer
To respect from one such as Pascal!
Oh, I live for such a moment!