1
Wilfredo Ma. Guerrero Condemned
To the Memory of Fernando Poe Sr.
FR. LIM: The execution is set—? WARDEN: Within an hour. Exactly at six.
First Performance: Capitol Theater, under the direction of Fernando Poe Sr. November 27, 1943 to January 20, 1944.
FR. LIM: May I see him now?
CHARACTERS:
WARDEN: Certainly. I’ll bring him out.
PABLO GONZALEZ ANGELA GONZALEZ ( his mother ) CRISTINA (his fiancée) TIA CHEDENG ( his aunt) ANDRES GOROSPE (an old friend ) SIMEON SERENO (another friend ) FATHER LIM ( prison chaplain ) WARDEN
FR. LIM: Here?
TIME:
(WARDEN opens cell, leads PABLO out into the waiting-room, closing rear door.)
An hour before the execution.
WARDEN: Yes, it’s permissible. One moment. (WARDEN goes to rear door, opens it. PABLO i s seen through the bars, seated on a bench, his bead in his bands.) WARDEN: Father Lim is here.
SCENE:
The prison waiting-room. A door at the rear which, when opened, reveals the bars of the death cell. Another door on right side of stage. Two high, small windows with bars on rear walls, through which the sky can be seen.
FR. LIM: Pablo! PABLO: Father!
When the curtain rises, the stage is completely dark, except for the lighted candle. The metal rustling of heavy keys is heard. Presently, the right door opens. FATHER LIM and the WARDEN appear. FATHER LIM is about forty, brisk-mannered but soft-voiced. He carries a breviary in one hand, and a small bag in another.
(PABLO GONZALEZ is twenty-four. He’s tall, well-built. His sufferings can be seen in his tense manly features, in his dark piercing eyes, and in the tight expression of his mouth. His movements are quick and nervous. He wears the orange uniform with a large cross at the back. His hair is cropped.)
WARDEN: Come right in, Father. The prisoner has been waiting for you.
PABLO: I’ve been expecting you! Any news, Father?
FR. LIM: How is he? WARDEN: He’s calm and quiet, Father. He slept well.
(FR. LIM shakes his head.) FR. LIM: None, my son. I’ve tried—God knows how much—
2
PABLO: I understand, Father. WARDEN: Not yet. But there’s a young girl— (Right door opens, WARDEN appears.) PABLO: A young girl? WARDEN: Mr. Gonzalez—any last request you wish to make? I mean, any kind of food or drink you might want?
WARDEN: Dressed in black.
PABLO: Can I ask anything?
PABLO: (to himself) Cristina.
WARDEN: Anything—within reason.
FR. LIM: Your—?
PABLO: A bottle of whiskey—could I ask for a bottle of whiskey?
(PABLO nods, bitterly.)
FR. LIM: (smiling) Whiskey?
WARDEN: Shall I let her in?
PABLO: You see, Father, I could not afford to drink it before—I got used to the cheap ginebra and tuba. I’ve always dreamt of being able someday—to drink whiskey, a whole bottle.
PABLO: No—not yet. I’ll let you know.
WARDEN: Anything more?
WARDEN: If you want anything, Father, I shall be just outside the door.
(WARDEN proceeds to the door.)
PABLO: Yes. Two glasses. WARDEN: Isn’t there anything you want with the whiskey?
(WARDEN goes out. FR. LIM sits on bench beside the table; PABLO remains standing, staring in front of him.)
PABLO: Yes. Make it three glasses. We’ll all drink.
FR. LIM: Pablo—(He doesn’t answer.) Pablo!
(WARDEN and FR. LIM look at each other c omprehendingly.)
PABLO: (as if waking up) Forgive me, Father, I was thinking—
WARDEN: What I mean, Mr. Gonzalez—is there an y food you might want?
FR. LIM: Take a seat. (PABLO sits down.) What were you thinking of, my son?
PABLO: Food? No, nothing more. WARDEN: Very well. (He is about to go.)
PABLO: I was thinking—I can’t believe it—that I should be here condemned to be hung in an hour—at the age of twenty-four. (He covers his face.)
PABLO: Warden, has my aunt arrived?
FR. LIM: Be calm, Pablo. I went to see the governor for a reprieve—
3
a few days more at least—but he said he couldn’t do anything. PABLO: Is she tall? PABLO: Father—(Suddenly he breaks down and puts his head on edge of table. FR. LIM goes back to his seat.) Father—do you think -?
FR. LIM: Yes, rather. And wearing a colored dress. PABLO: Curly hair?
FR. LIM: Yes— PABLO: What you said last night—that God could forgive me— forgive me after all I’ve done?
FR. LIM: (wondering) Now that I come to think of it—yes. Her face was—or— PABLO: Covered with too much paint?
FR. LIM: My son, Christ has said that if your sins are as scarlet they shall be as white as snow—if you ask his forgiveness. (PABLO impulsively kneels in front of FR. LIM. PABLO hesitates, and stands up.)
(FR. LIM nods gravely.) FR. LIM: Wearing earrings and bracelets. PABLO: That’s her all right. I wonder why she’s here.
FR. LIM: God’s mercy is infinite, my son. FR. LIM: Don’t you expect a mother to see her son? PABLO: No, I can’t. Not yet. PABLO: I don’t want to see her! FR. LIM: As you wish, Pablo. PABLO: If my mother had only taught me to believe and to pray. But she never did—that’s why I’m here now. FR. LIM: Your mother still living? PABLO: Yes, but I hope I don’t see her again! FR. LIM: Why?
FR. LIM: Pablo—what you told me a moment ago—that your mother never taught you to believe and to pray—is that the reason you don’t want to see her? PABLO: (looking at him) That, Father—and more. But let’s not talk about it. I want to rest a little. I’m tired—and a little nervous. I hope you don’t mind. FR. LIM: No, no, of course you should he down for a whi le. You want me to go?
PABLO: What’s the use, Father? It’s a long story. FR. LIM: While entering the prison gate, I noticed a woman standing on the sidewalk and looking toward the c ells. It could be a mere coincidence, but a certain resemblance—
PABLO: No, not yet, Father. Will you read me something—? My heart is so weary. Perhaps your books could give me some comfort. FR. LIM: I’ve two books here. The Confessions of St. Augustine and
4
Kempis’ The Following of Christ.
ANDRES: No, don’t bother him just yet. Can I ask a few questions?
PABLO: The second book—yes.
(WARDEN nods.)
(FR. LIM opens the book at random and starts reading.)
ANDRES: I’ve just arrived from the province. All I know is from the morning papers. I can hardly believe it’s true. Can you tell me why he murdered that man?
FR. LIM: (reading aloud—from Book One, Chapter 12) “It is good for us now and then to have some troubles and adversities; for oftentimes they make a man enter unto himself, that he may know that he is an exile, and place not his hopes in anything of the world... Therefore, ought a man so firmly to establish himself in God, as to have no need of seeking many human consolations... Then is he weary of longer fife; and wisheth death to come, that he may be dissolved, and be with Christ. Then also he well perceiveth, that perfect security and full peace cannot be realized in this world.” PABLO: That is good, Father. But my eyes—they are weary.
WARDEN: It seems this fellow—the victim—annoyed the prisoner’s girl once. During the trial the prisoner testified that he was not a jealous person by temperament, but that when this other fellow went to the extreme of laying his hands on her—he vowed revenge —and killed him. ANDRES: Was that sufficient reason to give him the death penalty? WARDEN: Many other circumstances aggravated his case. For one thing the murder was deliberate—it was done in the evening—and he purposely got drunk—
FR. LIM: I shall continue reading it for you, if you wish. ANDRES: What weapon did he use? PABLO: Yes, yes. In my cell. WARDEN: A knife. About a foot long. It pierced the man’s heart. (Both exit. WARDEN enters, carrying a bottle and several glasses on a tray which he places on a table. ANDRES GOROSPE, a childhood friend of PABLO, also enters.)
ANDRES: Pablo used to be so afraid of a knife! WARDEN: The prisoner afraid of a knife?
WARDEN: The chaplain is in with him now. ANDRES: Oh, I’m talking of the time we were children. ANDRES: I shall wait. WARDEN: He pleaded guilty. (ANDRES GOROSPE is twenty-six. He has settled down early in life. A childhood friend of PABLO, ANDRES has never asked much from life, his ambitions are few and modest. ANDRES has quiet manners and speaks rather slowly. He is attired in a simple suit and wears a tie. WARDEN is about to open the rear door.)
ANDRES: How strange. If I could only help him— WARDEN: Too late now. In less than an hour— ANDRES: Er—this girl—
5
(WARDEN goes out.) WARDEN: What girl? ANDRES: Pablo. ANDRES: The girl you mentioned—the one Pablo killed the man for— PABLO: (trying to remember) I don’t— WARDEN: She’s the one out there (pointing to right door) wearing a black dress. ANDRES: I can’t understand how Pablo—And then the death penalty — WARDEN: But you see, he had had previous convictions—estafa, disorderly conduct, assault against constituted authority— ANDRES: Estafa, too? WARDEN: A year ago he forged a check for two hundred thousand pesos. He was an inveterate gambler, you know. ANDRES: I didn’t know.
ANDRES: Don’t you remember me, Pablo? Andres—we were childhood friends. We used to play escondite, remember? PABLO: (recognizing him and shaking hands) Ah, yes, I remember now. ANDRES: (both sit down) You used to push me into the river, remember?—whenever we played near the bridge. Have you forgotten? PABLO: No, Andres. I haven’t forgotten. I only wish we were children again. We were happy then, weren’t we? (ANDRES nods sadly, evading his gaze.) You’re the only friend who has come to see me. The others—my so-called friends—I haven’t seen them since the trial.
WARDEN: You wish to see him now? You’re allowed five minutes. ANDRES: They are probably busy. ANDRES: Yes. Thank you. (WARDEN opens rear door. We see the chaplain reading to PABLO who’s sitting on a bench with his face buried in his hands. He looks up.) WARDEN: A visitor, Mr. Gonzalez.
PABLO: (laughing grimly) Yes, too busy evading me. But your coming, Andres, is a complete surprise to me. I mean—I didn’t expect you -ANDRES: I arrived from Isabela yesterday—I came to Manila on business. I knew nothing about—about this—until I read the papers last night.
(PABLO stands, goes out, WARDEN closing door.) PABLO: I’m glad you came, Andres. WARDEN: The whiskey is here, Mr. Gonzalez. PABLO: Thank you.
ANDRES: There’s a young lady outside. She should have come in first, but when she was near the door she turned to me and told me to go ahead. Is she—your wife?
6
PABLO: (shaking his head) No. We were to be married when this happened.
ANDRES: Why not? PABLO: And destroy her future?
ANDRES: Is there anything I can do, Pablo? Anything? ANDRES: If you love her— PABLO: Thank you, Andres. No, there’s nothing you can do now. PABLO: I do—No, I can’t marry her now! ANDRES: But I can’t understand—when I saw you last—we were in the sixth grade—my father was appointed provincial treasurer of Batangas, so we had to move there. PABLO: I chose the wrong path, that’s all. Tell me, are you married?
ANDRES: Does she love you? (PABLO stares at him and nods bitterly.) PABLO: That’s just it. She does. I’ve been very selfish all my life— ANDRES: She wouldn’t care—
ANDRES: Yes, and with two children. I should like you to meet my wife. (Suddenly they stare at each other, at the ironic impossibility of the wish.) PABLO: What are you doing now? ANDRES: I’m a doctor. I’m assistant head of the Isabela Provincial Hospital.
PABLO: Maybe not now—but later—she’ll regret it. Why make her the widow of a murderer? ANDRES: Tell me, Pablo—your father died when we were still in school? PABLO: Yes, and after his death I lived with an old aunt, Tia Chedeng but when I was fourteen I ran away.
PABLO: Are you happy? ANDRES: I have no complaints. I’ve a little house of my own. PABLO: You’ve gone far, Andres. And where am I now?
ANDRES: You—you used a knife, they say. You were so afraid—of a knife when you were a kid. PABLO: Yes, I was afraid of many other things besides. I didn’t gamble, I didn’t drink.
ANDRES: Pablo—just a suggestion—why don’t you—the girl outside— ANDRES: What happened? PABLO: Yes— ANDRES: Have you thought of marrying her? PABLO: Now?
PABLO: I don’t know. I grew up without discipline. I was allowed to steal small sums of money—to gamble on street comers—to smoke under the bridge. And when I grew older—the wrong friends—the lack of faith in anyone or anything—the bitterness—
7
WARDEN: Time is up, Mr. Gorospe. ANDRES: Your mother still alive? (WARDEN goes out.) PABLO: Yes. ANDRES: Pablo—(Both shake hands warmly.) ANDRES: Is she here? PABLO: I hope not! ANDRES: (not understanding him) I understand. It’s best, I suppose.
PABLO: Thanks for coming, Andres. I’m happy to die knowing that at least I have a friend. ANDRES: Goodbye—(He breaks down momentarily, but quickly pulls himself together.) Goodbye. (Hastily he goes out, WARDEN enters.)
PABLO: You are mistaken, Andres. I hope never to see her again! WARDEN: Half an hour left, Mr. Gonzalez. You wish to rest a little? ANDRES: Your own mother? But— (WARDEN enters.) WARDEN: There’s a man who insists on seeing you, but he has no pass.
PABLO: (with a brief, grim laugh) Rest now? I’ve all eternity to rest in, Warden. (SIMEON enters. He’s about twenty-five, in drab trousers and pants, his hair is tousled. He is smoking a cigarette. PABLO doesn’t see him at first.)
PABLO: Did he give his name? WARDEN: Yes. Simeon Sereno. (PABLO, from the expression on his face, recognizes the visitor, and his smile has a tinge of bitter contempt.)
SIMEON: (to WARDEN) Do you mind leaving us alone? (PABLO glares at SIMEON resentfully.) WARDEN: (to PABLO) You wish to see hi m? (PABLO doesn’t answer, but his silence is taken for consent. WARDEN leaves quietly.)
PABLO: No, I don’t want to see him. SIMEON: I read in the papers— (WARDEN nods, goes out.) ANDRES: Somebody you know? PABLO: He’s one of my companions from the past who dragged me to the gutter.
PABLO: I didn’t want to see you. You’re partly to blame for my being here. SIMEON: Don’t be too hard on me, Pablo. PABLO: You taught me many of the evil things I learned.
(WARDEN comes in.) SIMEON: I regret it deeply.
8
That’s why I grew up to be bitter. PABLO: Your—regret—will it save me from the chair? SIMEON: If I could do something—
(PABLO has gone near him and has gently put his band on his shoulder.)
PABLO: What can you do—now?
PABLO: (gently) You never told me this.
SIMEON: You say I taught you many evil things. That’s true. But I too had been taught in my younger years by other friends.
SIMEON: (bitterly) Each one of us carries a secret in his heart which he can’t reveal to anyone.
PABLO: You pretended to be my friend.
PABLO: To have a mother—how sweet and beautifully consoling it must be. Yes, how wonderful it must be.
SIMEON: I’ve always been your friend, Pablo. (SIMEON stares at him.) PABLO: That’s why, I suppose, you never came to see me during the trial. SIMEON: How should I have known you wanted to see me? I didn’t dare.
SIMEON: She’s still alive? (PABLO nods.) Then—? PABLO: I, too, have my secrets, Simeon. (SIMEON stands up.)
PABLO: You were my closest friend—the one I trusted most. We were partners in drinking, gambling, and women—and that doesn’t merit the word friendship?
SIMEON: I’m leaving for Palawan tomorrow. PABLO: Palawan?
SIMEON: True, Pablo—and yet—I think you’re being unfair to me. SIMEON: I have a job at the Leper Colony. PABLO: Unfair? PABLO: Among—the lepers? SIMEON: (sitting) You have a mother. You a re lucky—to have one. My mother died when I was five, my father a year before that. I was raised in an orphanage, but I escaped when I was twelve—and since then—I’ve been alone in this world! To have a mother—how sweet and beautiful it must be. When I was a kid, I’d sometimes have fights with other kids—whenever I got licked, I’d cry—but I had no one to dry my tears. I still remember the garden in the orphanage—how often I’d run to a comer of that garden—there was a bench behind some thick bushes—and there I would weep quietly.
SIMEON: Among the lepers—I met a nice and fine girl two months ago. PABLO: She’s working there? SIMEON: She’s going to live there. PABLO: Live there? But why?
9
SIMEON: She has—leprosy. PABLO: Leprosy! SIMEON: I am going with her—that’s why I’ve decided to work there, too.
She wears saya and camisa, her shoulders covered with a panwelo. PABLO kisses her hand.) PABLO: Tia Chedeng! (Leads her to a chair, be sitting beside her and holding her bands.) I am so happy you came. TIA CHEDENG: I did not want to come today—I told you yesterday, but—
PABLO: You love her, Simeon? PABLO: I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you didn’t come today, Tia. SIMEON: Yes. And I want to expiate my past. PABLO: But why go to that extreme?
TIA CHEDENG: I tried, Pablo, I tried to see the president—but I couldn’t find him in his office nor in his house. I have failed.
SIMEON: Great crimes, Pablo, demand great expiations.
PABLO: No matter, Tia, no matter now.
PABLO: (suddenly shaking Simeon’s hand) Forgive me, Simeon! I see you’re a better man than I am.
TIA CHEDENG: Yesterday you asked me to get you some mangoes. I promised I would get you some, but—October i s not the season for mangoes.
SIMEON: No, Pablo, I’m no better than you are—I’m worse. But to this girl I owe the change. I was spiritually and morally dead—and she brought me back to life.
PABLO: How silly of me, Tia.
PABLO: We’ve never been so close to each other as we are now.
TIA CHEDENG: Pablo, I failed you in ever ything. If only I had not let you go years ago—but then you ran away—
SIMEON: Now we can part—not with bitter reproaches and resentment—but with complete understanding.
PABLO: Why blame yourself, Tia? It was my fault. If only I had stayed with you—how different things would have been.
(Hastily SIMEON breaks away and rushes out. PABLO, shaken, sits and buries his face in his hands. WARDEN enters.)
(Suddenly TIA CHEDENG bows her bead, bites her lips, as tears roll down her cheeks. PABLO caresses her hands. Presently she takes something from her handkerchief.)
WARDEN: Chedeng Gonzalez to see you. PABLO: Tia Chedeng! Let her in. (WARDEN goes out. CHEDENG enters. She is an old woman of sixty. White-haired, with a wrinkled but kindly face. She stoops a little.
TIA CHEDENG: Wear this. (Gives him a small crucifix with a chain. She puts it around his neck.) PABLO: Thank you, Tia. How can I repay you for all your kindness?
10
TIA CHEDENG: Only one thing, Pablo, my dear, will make me happy. What I’ve been asking you these last few days.
PABLO: No, I can’t forgive her! (WARDEN enters again.)
PABLO: Father Lim read me The Following of Christ a while ago.
WARDEN: Very little time left, Mr. Gonzalez. The girl wants to see you. (WARDEN goes out.)
TIA CHEDENG: I don’t mean that, Pablo.
PABLO: Tia—forgive me for all the pains I’ve given you.
PABLO: You mean, confession? (She nods.) I don’t know, Tia. It’s too early yet—
TIA CHEDENG: I shall wait outside. And I shall be praying. (She kisses him on the brow.)
TIA CHEDENG: It might be too late, Pablo! (WARDEN enters.)
PABLO: Farewell, Tia, and pray for me!
WARDEN: Sorry. Time is up.
TIA CHEDENG: All my life, son, all my life.
TIA CHEDENG: (rising) Thank you, I was just going. (WARDEN goes out.)
(WARDEN opens door, as TIA CHEDENG runs out wi thout looking back. PABLO sits down, very tired. CRISTINA enters. WARDEN closes door. CRISTINA is about twenty-one, dressed in black. She is pale, but pretty; shy and quiet; her voice soft. With her hands clasped on her breast, she stands beside the door, staring at PABLO. Presently he notices her presence.)
PABLO: (holding her hands) Tia—did you see somebody waiting outside? TIA CHEDENG: Have you seen Cristina?
PABLO: (without rising) Cristina! (She advances toward him.) PABLO: I don’t mean her. TIA CHEDENG: Your—mother? (He nods.) I saw her waiting on the sidewalk. But you know we have not been on speaking terms all these years. Has she seen you?
CRISTINA: We have so little time left, Pablo. (He makes her sit down, sitting beside her.) PABLO: What can we say to each other?
PABLO: I don’t want to see her!
CRISTINA: I just want to say—I’ll always love you.
TIA CHEDENG: Forgive her, Pablo. A mother remains a mother, whatever her faults.
PABLO: I’m not worthy of you, Cristina. CRISTINA: If you really love me don’t go—away—without—
PABLO: If she had been a true mother, I wouldn’t be here! TIA CHEDENG: Your father’s death left her e mbittered and lonely.
PABLO: Without marrying you? Can’t you see it would be unfair to you? I should like to marry you now, even if I’m about to—(CRISTINA puts her band on his mouth.)
11
CRISTINA: Let’s not think what the next few moments will bring. (A long pause during which they dare not look at each other.) PABLO: (talking almost to himself) For the first time in my life I know what real love is—the deep silent affection, the quiet understanding, the feeling of gentle gratitude, the sense of being alive—(bitterly) yes, alive. Neither a mother’s nor a woman’s love I have known. Early in life I soiled my mind with unworthy thoughts— my mouth with drink and dirty language—my heart polluted with petty desires my hands with stealing, gambling—and now, murder! And then you came. Cristina, you came into my sordid, lonely life— and cleansed my mind and soul and brightened my world. Until that night—
PABLO: If someday you should meet a better fellow—who can offer you a better future—you’ll be glad you didn’t marry me, that you were free. (She weeps quietly on his shoulders. FR. LIM appears.) FR. LIM: It’s nearly time, my son. (PABLO and CRISTINA look at each other.) PABLO: Father—this is Cristina. (FR. LIM nods to her.) Father—could we— FR. LIM: Yes?
CRISTINA: Why, oh God, why? If only I hadn’t been walking alone that night—
PABLO: Could you marry us—now? (FR. LIM looks from one to the other.) It’s the last favor I ask of you, Father! Could you?
PABLO: When you told me the n ext morning how that fellow had tried to rape you! I forgot myself—I forgot you—I forgot ever ything! —I only knew I had to wipe away the insult—
FR. LIM: But—
CRISTINA: But why with blood, Pablo? You shouldn’t have—
CRISTINA: We love each other, Father.
PABLO: With blood, yes—because it was the only way. That insult had to be wiped away with blood! If we get married now—what can I offer you? Nothing. Premature widowhood—the name of a murderer—a few memories of what might have been.
FR. LIM: Have you known each other long?
PABLO: Yes, I know I’m going to die in a few minutes.
PABLO: Seven months— FR. LIM: But at this moment—
CRISTINA: What do I get? Widowhood—yes, but also the assurance of your heart and mine faithful unto the end and for always. A few memories—I wish there had been more!—but still memories I shall cherish all through eternity. PABLO: After I am—after this is over—you’ll forget me— CRISTINA: I shan’t be able to forget, Pablo!
CRISTINA: I want to marry him—even at this moment. FR. LIM: Time is short. We shall need two witnesses. PABLO: My Tia Chedeng is outside. (FR. LIM goes out, right door.) Are you sure, Cristina, you want this?
12
CRISTINA: Surer than ever. (FR. LIM. returns with TIA CHEDENG and ANDRES, followed by the WARDEN. The following scene is all pantomime with musical background. FR. LIM puts on surplice, opens breviary. PABLO and CRISTINA a re ordered to kneel down, ANDRES and TIA CHEDENG standing beside them. The WARDEN stands near the right door. The mumbling of prayers by the priest is indistinctly heard. As the ceremony progresses, CRISTINA little by little loses poise, covers her face as PABLO holds her by the shoulders. The ceremony over, TIA CHEDENG kisses CRISTINA who is weeping silently.)
PABLO: (quietly) Warden, will you let her in?
PABLO: (seeing the bottle of whiskey) I almost forgot! The bottle of whiskey! Let’s all celebrate! (He looks at the others who remain glum. He stares at CRISTINA who has her eyes down.)
PABLO: Wait for me, dearest. I shall call you. (PABLO kisses TIA CHEDENG’s hand.) Tia, will you take care of Cristina for me? (TIA CHEDENG nods. PABLO shakes ANDRES’ hand.) Stand by them, will you, Andres? (CRISTINA supports TIA CHEDENG, and all go out, closing door behind them. ANGELA GONZALEZ takes a few steps forward, extreme front stage, right. PABLO stands an extreme left, front. ANGELA is over forty-five, but is trying to retain her faded youth and beauty by the overuse of cosmetics. There is an air of bad taste and vulgarity about her, accentuated by h er gaudy colored dress and the use of big bracelets and earrings. Her voice is husky.)
(PABLO gulps down his share, but suddenly throws the glass on the floor, breaking it. He sits down and leaning on the table, breaks down. CRISTINA goes near him and he puts his arm around her waist briefly. WARDEN, after an awkward pause, touches PABLO on the shoulder.) WARDEN: Five minutes left. (Suddenly voices are beard outside. WARDEN runs to the door. His voice is heard off stage). You can’t get in without a pass! ANGELA: (outside) Let me in! Let me in! (Everybody looks towards the door.) WARDEN: (outside) Who are you? ANGELA: (outside) I am his mother! (PABLO’s reaction is to be imagined.)
(ANGELA enters, stands near door.) WARDEN: Is she your mother? PABLO: She used to be. (The y all look at him.) FR. LIM: (going to rear door) I shall wait in here. (He goes out. PABLO embraces CRISTINA briefly.)
PABLO: (without looking at her) What do you wan t? ANGELA: I wanted to see you. PABLO: What for? To offer me your sympathy? Thanks. I don’t need it. You didn’t try to see me during the trial. ANGELA. I couldn’t. I was—ashamed. PABLO: Ashamed? And aren’t you ashamed to be here now?
WARDEN: (outside) But you don’t have a pass! ANGELA: I am your mother, Pablo. ANGELA: (outside) He’s my son—and I have the right PABLO: The woman I used to call mother died when—after Father’s
13
death, she lived with Marcos Nable. ANGELA: You hate me so. PABLO: I don’t hate you. My feelings for you are what I would feel for a stranger.
PABLO: And did you ever teach me to fear God? (Pause) Tia Chedeng taught me a few prayers which I quickly forgot because I ran away. My faults became habits—and my bad habits enslaved me. ANGELA: I wasn’t to blame—try to understand, my son—
ANGELA: I have left him—I left Marcos for good. PABLO: And so you came here—to feel pride in your work.
PABLO: Son! You dare call me your son! And a few months after Father’s death—I was ten then—you fell i n love with Marcos Nable— lived with him—pueh! my own mother!
ANGELA: I don’t understand— ANGELA: I left him. PABLO: If I’m here now—if I’m condemned to the chair—it’s because of you! ANGELA: Me!
PABLO: And may I know why? Not that it matters. ANGELA: When I read about your sentence a few weeks ago—I—I realized that—I had done wrong--
PABLO: Yes, you! Have you ever been a mother to me? Did you ever give me any care or attention? Isn’t it true that you spent all your time gambling while you left me with Tia Chedeng? When Father was sick and dying—weren’t you out gambling?
PABLO: In the meantime what had you done to me? You broke my ideals—tore away my faith—you filled me with bitterness -- the bitterness of a son who’s ashamed of his own mother!
ANGELA: I fed you, clothed you—
ANGELA: (going near him) Pablo! Have pity!
PABLO: And you thought you had done your duty! You thought that in bringing me into this world your work was finished! It had only begun!
PABLO: Pity! You never had any for me! You sent me out i nto the world without faith—without anchor—without dreams! I wandered alone—and lonely—without a home—until I met Cristina—the girl I’ve just married.
ANGELA: What did you want me to do? PABLO: Did you ever correct my faults? Did you care who my companions and playmates were? Did you ever check me from committing petty thefts—correct my bad language—my bad tendencies? ANGELA: I really tried, I—
ANGELA: Married! (Looking back towards right door remembering CRISTINA.) PABLO: And now that I’m about to die—how I wish to have my own mother at my side—to be able to tell her how sorry I am—to be able to part from this life with a mother’s kiss. But no! It’s my own mother who has sent me here!
14
her—what I haven’t been to you! ANGELA: Pablo! Pablo, my son! PABLO: Tears! How can your tears move me now when I drowned my own tears in drink?
PABLO: If I could die with the word “Mother” on my lips—if I could call you Mother! (Desperately.) God in heaven, wh y, can’t I call you Mother? (Right door opens, WARDEN comes in.)
(ANGELA slowly raises herself up. PABLO covers his face with his hands. There is an expression of determination on ANGELA’s face. Slowly and quietly, she takes off her earrings, bracelets, rings, and gently puts them on the table. She also tries to wipe off the cosmetics on her face. When she speaks, her voice is low and soft.)
WARDEN: Time’s up! The officials await you in your cell.
ANGELA: Listen to what I have to say. I was forced to marry your father against my will. I didn’t love him and he knew it. It wasn’t my fault! My family shouldn’t have opposed my marriage to the man I really loved. To forget my unhappiness I turned to gambling and to pleasure. That kept me away from your father. I didn’t want a baby, you might as well know, so when you came—well, I just left you to the care of servants. (Her voice rising.) But few knew that our married life was unhappy. And when your father died, I sought an outlet for my lonely years—
(PABLO stares at the WARDEN and FR. LIM as if in a trance.)
PABLO: Tia Chedeng wanted to make me believe Father’s death had made you lonely and bitter—yes, but for different reasons.
PABLO: Father—will you hear my confession? (FR. LIM nods, as PABLO kneels in front of him. Music. Stage becomes dark. FR. LIM gives the absolution.) Let’s go!
ANGELA: I left you in Tia Chedeng’s care, then. She wanted you. When you were eleven—that was the time I met Marcos. Tia Chedeng knew about my unhappy marriage with your father. PABLO: She knew and never told me. ANGELA: I’ve told you everything! Now condemn me if you dare! PABLO: If I could believe you—I would ask you—to take care of Cristina for me—but no, it’s i mpossible! Too late! ANGELA: Yes, son, let me take care of her! I’ll be a real mother to
ANGELA: Not yet—not yet! (FR. LIM appears.) FR. LIM: We must start, Pablo.
WARDEN: If you wish to see your wife PABLO: My wife? Oh, Cristina. Yes—no—never mind. Why hurt her more? (Turning to FR. LIM) Father—I am—afraid—to die. FR. LIM: Don’t doubt God’s mercy. His mercy is as wide and as deep as the ocean.
ANGELA: My son! (PABLO looks at her with compassion in his eyes, makes a gesture of bending towards her, but turns abruptly, and goes out through rear door with WARDEN, closing door behind them. Bells begin to toll outside. The door opens. CRISTINA, TIA CHEDENG, and ANDRES rush in.) CRISTINA: (rushing to rear door and banging it repeatedly) Pablo! Wait! (Stage is darkened as bell continue tolling. CRISTINA breaks down and collapses in front of rear door, a figure of utter
15
dejection. TIA CHEDENG sits on chair, with ANDRES behind her. Music continues. ANGELA stands, front right, with h ands folded tightly and bead down, as if praying. TIA CHEDENG prays with a rosary in her hands. The pause continues for twenty seconds, interrupted only by CRISTINA’s sobs. Suddenly the bells cease tolling. Another pause of fifteen seconds. Steps are heard. All raise their eyes toward rear door in an attitude of expectation. Rear door opens, FR. LIM appears, closes door. CRISTINA and ANGELA come nearer with a gesture of supplication.) FR. LIM: It’s all over. His last words were—his last words— CRISTINA and ANGELA. Yes—? FR. LIM: “Cristina”—(Here CRISTINA sobs.)—“Tia” — ANGELA: Was that—all? FR. LIM: (staring at her)—and “Mother.” He whi spered, like a prayer, the word “Mother”—twice. ANGELA: Mother—twice. (As CRISTINA breaks into sobs, ANGELA bends over and enfolds her in her arms. TIA CHEDENG makes the sign of the cross.)
CURTAIN
