ENCORE

Scene 2

September, 1898

Scene: Emilie is washing the windows of The Elephant. Her hair is pulled back in a braid and she wears an apron over a dark blue dress, mended in some places. Satine sits on the bed eating an apple. She looks very comfortable, with minimal makeup and wearing a simple dress, with a high neck and thin buttoned sleeves like Emilie's. Toulouse sits across from her on a chair, holding a sheaf of papers and talking excitedly.

Toulouse: So you see, Mme. Satine, if you can just convince M. Zidler to consider, even glance, at this new play of mine, I believe it will be an absolutely monumental step towards your acting career…

Satine, carelessly: Oh Toulouse you know how important this little dream of mine is to me, but Harold is insistent. He is like my papa, you know, having rescued me from the streets in much the same manner as our Emilie and Mirette, (at this Emilie lifts her head and smiles shyly at Satine), and he feels that I am above that sort of life.

Her voice grows softer and for a moment she smiles wistfully.

Toulouse: And how sad for you Mme. Satine, and for my friends in the acting world! But M. Zidler, you know, perhaps he is right – the life of an actor is much different from this (he gestured to the lavish furnishings), and you would be an actress, Mme., not an actor.

Satine, wryly: I am aware of this fact, Toulouse.

Toulouse, laughing nervously: No Mme, non, what I am trying to say is, is: the acting world is very hard for women, you know.

Satine sits upright, eyes flashing.

Satine: Did you not write me a part, Toulouse? Did you not design your latest work specifically so that the main character would display my talents? And now you sit here, daring to suggest that because I am a woman, I should leave my dreams like that?

Toulouse, hurriedly: No, no, not at all Mme. Satine, you know I think most highly of your talents.

Satine, settling back down: Good. Then read me that scene again, so that I may judge it better.

Toulouse, still slightly nervous:

And I dare not love him, for my heart is promised to another.

Oh, but if I could! Until my dying day I would, until my

very last breath I would…

Satine, misty-eyed: The comtese would what, Toulouse?

Toulouse: Oh Mme., here the words are not flowing from my muse as they normally do! But I am certain, when she feels fit to grace me; this passage will be the jewel of my work.

Emilie, quietly: Until my very last breath, I would lovehimwitheveryfragmentofmybeing.

Satine, curiously: What did you say, Emilie?

Toulouse: Do not be afraid to speak, child!

Emilie: Until my very last breath, I would love him with every fragment of my being.

Satine, clapping her hands: Oh yes, yes, Toulouse that's it! Our petit coquette, she too is graced by your muse of words!

Toulouse, writing furiously: My muse speaks to me through this enchanting child! What is your name, ma cherie?

Emilie: Emilie, Mounsier. (she pauses, as if debating whether or not to say something). I have read your volume of poetry and enjoyed it very much.

Toulouse: Thank you, merci! I must be off mademoiselles, my muse is speaking!

He shoves his hat on haphazardly, and runs out the door.

Satine, laughing and falling back on the bed: Brilliant, Emilie, Brilliant!

Emilie: Merci.

Satine, seriously: Promise me this.

Emilie, confused: What is it, Mme.?

Satine: Promise me that you will not listen to men like Toulouse and M. Zidler, oh yes, even the two kindest men I know; say you will not listen when they tell you you cannot write because you are a woman.

Emilie: But I will never become a writer, Mme.

Satine: But you want it.

Emilie, without hesitation: Yes.

Satine stands up and takes Emilie's hand, and places a finger to Emilie's chin.

Satine: Then, cherie, fly away from here. Those lovely eyes, they do not belong to a can-can dancer. I feel as if they cut through lies and see only –

Zidler: Truth! Beauty! Freedom! Love! Ah, the revolution is a marvelous thing…for business. Emilie, Marie is looking for you! Mirette has already arranged the vanities.

He gives Emilie a firm look.

Emilie, slightly defiantly: I'll go, M. Zidler.

She makes a move to leave, but Satine pulls on her hand.

Zidler: Dove, you have an… (he looks at Emilie and changes his words) amie who wishes to meet you.

Satine, ignoring Zidler: Promise me, Emilie.

Zidler: Dove?

Satine: Promise me!

Zidler: SATINE!

Emilie looks straight into Satine's eyes and squeezes her hand.

Emilie: I promise, Satine.

END SCENE