4 & “+ : 4 : “— , . : = 2 Gees te \ } oe. cA Play of Persia ¢ «=| ~~, “f , = » SP 2 \ s tf) f. \ By HELEN L. WILLCOX 4. Price, Fifty cents Order through denominational headquarters MISSIONARY EDUCATION MOVEMENT OF THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA 150 Firth AVENUE New York, N. Y. Copyright, 1926, by MISSIONARY EDUCATION MOVEMENT OF THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA Printed in the United. States of America PRODUCTION NOTES The scenes of this play are set in a village in Persia and in the city of Tehran. The time is the present. Setting. The setting of this play need not present serious difficulties. If it is impracticable to have “scenery” corresponding to the descriptions in the text, the essential effects may be achieved by the use of curtains, hangings, and lighting. The background for both scenes may be simply curtains of a warm gray, hung so as to leave an opening six or eight feet wide at center back. This should not give the effect of a door, since the court is supposedly unroofed, but should be merely a gap in the gray walls. Several feet back of this, allowing room for players to pass between, there should be either a back-drop suggesting the scene described, or another curtain of the same color, as if it were the wall of a passage. In Scene J, even the small platform may be dispensed with, if necessary, although it is much easier for the audience to see the men when seated, if they are raised a little above the floor of the main stage. In any case there should be a Persian rug at left front, on which the men sit. In this scene, the walls may be left quite bare. The principal effect here is gained through the changing colors of the sunset. (See section on lighting.) In Scene II, the atmosphere may be sufficiently changed—from that of a house in a desert village to that of a city merchant’s dwelling—by adding a few Oriental hangings to the plain gray walls, several more rugs, cushions with rich coverings, and silken draperies for the women’s balcony. All hang- ings, etc., should be of Persian or East Indian design—not Chinese or Japa- nese. If the balcony is not practicable, there may be a low platform against the wall at right front, surrounded on front and left by a curtain, which may be drawn partly back, or draped, so that the women may be seen while on the platform, and yet the effect of seclusion is suggested. In whatever way the settings may be simplified, the three entrances are essential, since the men’s and women’s quarters must be on opposite sides of the public court, and the outside entrance would not be through either one. At the initial production of the play (at Silver Bay, July, 1926) it was found more convenient to have the outside entrance at left front, but it was obviously distinct from the other two. Lighting. If the necessary equipment is available, a very lovely effect of sunset, dusk, and moonlight may be obtained in Scene I. This can. probably be most easily achieved by the use of four flood-lights, all on dimmers. Two should be so adjusted as to light the front part of the stage. They may be placed in the wings, if there is room; in the side balconies of the audience room, if there are such; or at opposite sides of a rear balcony. A third should be placed off right and raised so as to throw the light down over the top of the “wall.” The fourth is used behind the back wall at right, so as to throw the light on the back-drop, or curtain. By using flood-lights instead of the usual strip lights at sides and overhead, it is possible to produce very beautiful changes of color by the use of colored gelatin slides, which may be simply held before the lens of each “flood.” The following colors ‘should be used, in the order named: straw; light amber; dark amber; light magenta; dark magenta; light navy blue. The flood which lights the right side (player’s right) of the front stage should be dimmed more rapidly, and its color changed in each 3 case sooner than that of the other lights. By a little experimentation charming effects may be achieved. For instance, when the light on the court, or front stage, has dimmed to the cool blue of dusk (about the time the women come in with tea and lamps), there may still be a faint violet glow on the back- drop (produced by combining the magenta and blue slides), A moment later the effect of moonlight coming from the opposite side may be suggested by increasing the light from the flood which lights the left side of the front stage, and combining the straw-colored slide with the blue. In case the flood- lights are not available, this effect may be approximated by the use of three stereopticons, and the gelatin slides. It will do no harm if the light is some- what dim throughout the first scene. No special effects are called for in Scene II. The light throughout should be the warm golden glow of afternoon sunlight. This may be obtained by the use of ordinary strip lights, at the sides of the stage, and overhead, or by using the straw-colored slides in all three stereopticons. Footlights should be used only as a last resort. Costumes.’ The Persian man’s costume consists of a pair of wide white trousers, very full at the top and gathered about the waist by a cord, and very narrow at the ankle—these may be made of ordinary white cotton; two coats with a tightly fitted, short waist, and a skirt gathered slightly to the waist section, and reaching about to the knee or a little above—these may be made of sateen, the inner one plain, the outer figured; a red fez, or peaked cap; and a long strip of cloth wound about the fez for a turban. The turbans are white, except for that of the Dervish, which must be green, since he has made the Great Pilgrimage. The traditional costume of the Persian woman is somewhat complicated. She wears a pair of long black trousers, not quite so full at the top as those of the men. For the desert-dwellers, these may be made of ordinary cotton cloth; for the city women, they should be of sateen. As a matter of fact, they are often made of black velvet. Over this garment she wears an extremely short and full petticoat of heavy white cotton, edged with embroidery. Over this comes her skirt, also very short and full. For the village women, these skirts may be made of figured cotton; for the city woman, the skirt should be of taffeta. These skirts reach just below the hips. Then a white “shirt,” or inner jacket, is put on, falling slightly over the top of the skirt. This may be made of white cotton, the lower edge, fronts, and bottoms of the sleeves being trimmed with embroidery. Over this goes the outer jacket, which is about the same length as the shirt, but is left open down the front, to show the white underneath, and has shorter sleeves. This should be made of velvet, or velveteen, and embroidered with floral motifs, which may be appliqued. Then she places over her head the “chirada,” which is a large square of white flowered cotton, or a dainty print with a white background, folded cornerwise and pinned under her chin, so as to leave a point in the middle of the back. All this, however, is merely her indoor dress, which she may wear in the seclusion of the anderunt or women’s quarters. When she comes into the beiruni, or public court, where she may expect to meet the men of the family, and possibly guests, she puts over this dress her indoor chudder. This is merely a huge semi-circular piece of goods, of which the center of the straight side _ 1A full set of these costumes has been prepared for rental by the Pageants and Exhibits Division of the Committee on Conservation and Advance of the Methodist Episcopal Church, 740 Rush Street, Chicago, Ill. is placed over the forehead and drawn back snugly about the head. Then the rest of the material falls about the person, Sore to the ankles, and giving the effect of a long circular cape. This may be made of a soft cotton print, or a silk-and-cotton mixture, for the desert women; for the city women, it should be of silk, preferably a material that has a slight wiry quality. The pattern should be in stripes. When the Persian woman ventures out on to the street, she must add the traditional black chudder, which envelops her from head to foot. This consists of a full skirt sewed to a wide belt, to which are attached string ties with which she fastens the loose skirt about her waist. Another strip of black goods is sewed to the skirt about a foot below the belt. This strip is at least a yard wide, and is drawn up over the head and then held together in front, so as to conceal the person entirely. This garment may be made of ordinary cotton cloth, for the desert women; for the city women, it should be made of sateen, of a fine quality. The custom is changing so rapidly as regards the use of the veil that it is impossible to give any fixed rule for it. The conservative woman of the city would probably still wear the white face veil, which fastens about the head, over the black chudder, and falls down almost to the waist-line in front. A narrow oblong section is cut out over the eyes, but this is covered by a strip of fine net. This makes it possible for the wearer to see out, but impos- sible for anyone to see her eyes. The progressive modern woman has generally discarded this badge of seclusion and has substituted for it the new black “veil” worn largely in Cairo. This is nothing more than a small square, or oblong, of a stiff black net, bound at the edges and having ties attached. It is actually made of horse-hair and, amusingly enough, is manufactured in France. This shield is placed over the top of the head, under the black chudder, and fastened so as to extend several inches out over the forehead. The older, or more timorous, woman may tip this ‘veil’? down over her face so as to conceal her eyes from the passerby; but the true “modern” wears it in a horizontal position and looks out upon the world with fearless eyes. In this play we have both the conservative and progressive types repre- sented. The different articles of dress should be worn as follows: In Scene I, when Rogieh and her mother first appear, they are about to go out, and therefore they wear the enveloping black chudder. The white face veil is optional. When they come out from the anderuni later, to serve tea, they have discarded the black chudder, and wear the indoor chudder. In Scene II, Fatimah at her first appearance may wear the indoor chudder somewhat negligently, allowing it to fall apart in front so as to show the picturesque costume underneath. When she appears in the balcony, while the men are drinking tea, she may wear it in the same careless fashion until the moment when she perceives the strangers; then she clutches the chudder about her, hiding even her face, as she retreats. The next time she comes in, she is a little more cautious. Zeinab and Sakineh have become so modernized that they wear European dresses in the privacy of their own quarters, and even in the beiruni may allow the indoor chudder to fall apart so as to show the dainty silk of a Parisian frock underneath. However, on the entrance of the visitors, they draw the chudder closely about them, holding a fold of the silk across the face so that only the eyes are seen. And at their first entrance, having been on the street, they are shrouded in black. On ascending to the balcony, they throw back the upper part of the black chudder, unfasten the ties at the waist, and allow the whole garment to slip to the floor. Then they step out of it and push it back out of the way with their feet. 1See illustrations, p. 12, for a better understanding of the women’s costume. o The Aga Ali has also become sufficiently modern to discard at least a part of the traditional Persian costume. He may be dressed in a European business suit, with a small round cap made of black fur such as astrakhan; or it is possible that he would wear European trousers but retain the figured coat with the gathered skirt. It is altogether likely that he would wear Euro- pean shoes, as would Zeinab and Sakineh. All the other characters should wear soft slippers of leather or felt. Make-up. The Persians belong to the white race, but their coloring is, in general, darker than that of the English, for example. However, they should not be made to look like Arabs, who, while Semitic, are deeply browned by the hot sun. It might be well to make the men of the desert village somewhat darker than the city merchant. The complexion of the women is well pro- tected and should therefore be fair, Dark brown eyes and brown or black hair would be realistic. It should be remembered also that exceedingly heavy eyebrows are admired in Persia. In fact the description of a beauty will often include the point that her eyebrows meet in a straight line across her forehead. The most essential part of the make-up consists in beards for the men. These should not be omitted under any circumstances, since the wearing of a beard is considered as a duty by all orthodox Moslems. It is more satisfactory, generally, to use crépe hair—which is attached to the face with spirit gum, and can then easily be trimmed to make a natural effect—than it is to rent beards ready-made. The Dervish may have a long beard of iron-’ gray; Hussein, a bushy black beard; Ali, one of trimmer effect; and Kasim, a very short, close beard, or possibly none. In considering physical characteristics, it may be well to remember that the traditional ideas of feminine beauty in Persia do not run to slenderness, and that a favorite phrase in describing the face of the beloved is “the moon in its fourteenth night.” Furniture. Cushions are the only necessary furniture in either scene. These should be very thick and rather hard. The seat cushion of a modern “over- stuffed” chair would serve the purpose. If one or two cylindrical cushions, in bolster effect, can be procured, or made, so much the better. The cushions are not so much to sit upon as to lean against, when seated on the rug. There should be at least one for the Dervish in Scene I, and in Scene II, the two guests should have them placed for their convenience; and also the women in the balcony. A brazier would add realism and local color. Properties. In Scene I, the following properties are needed: two water-jars (of pottery, in Oriental design); two prayer-rugs (small narrow rugs of a rather soft weave, that can be easily folded and tucked into the belt); two lamps (which may be ordinary kerosene lamps of European manufacture), or one lamp and one large candle in a high candle-stick; the tea-service, consisting of a tray, three small cups, and a metal tea-pot hung on a standard over a small stove, somewhat like a Russian samovar in design. In addition, if desired, there may be a basin and pitcher of water, for the ceremonial hand: washing. The only properties required in Scene II are the articles of the tea-service, which should be of the same general nature as Hake in Scene I, but should be richer in material and ornamentation. Music. The melody of Kasim’s song, which is to be sung off- stage, at the beginning of the play, will be found Bai page 8. A very good record is made by the Victor Company giving the Call to Prayer in Arabic. This may be successfully used if the phonograph is placed at a sufficient distance from the audience (back-stage) so as to minimize the mechanical effect. It will be just as well if the “Call” seems to come from a considerable distance. This record will be much more realistic than an Amer- ican imitation is likely to be. However, if it is desired to have one of the players give the Call to Prayer, the musical setting may be found in Lane’s Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians. In cases where the alternative ending is used for Scene I, the music speci- fied is, “The March of the Magi Kings,” an organ composition, but if an organ is not available, it would be wiser to substitute a composition better suited to the-piano. Miscellaneous notes. The ritual of the Evening Prayer, which should be carried out by the Dervish and Kasim in Scene I, may be found in Lane’s Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, with pictures showing the exact forms of prostrations, etc. The etiquette of serving tea, if carried out completely, is as follows: First, a basin and a pitcher of water are brought to each person. The hands are held over the basin and the water is poured over them.? As each man receives his cup, he murmurs, “Shuk’r Allah” (Thanks to God). After the guests have finished their tea, they say to the host, “Allah barakakum” (God bless you abundantly). Pronunciation. The following are phonetic pronunciations given as accurately as is possible inasmuch as certain sounds are unfamiliar to Western people. Names of the characters: Kau’ sIM Aun’ GAH AH’ LEE Faun’ ti-MAuH (The second syllable Ro’ KEE-AY : is scarcely sounded) Lay’ LA esate ety ater ZAY’ NUB Dair-vEESH’ May’ DEE Moor’ sHID Shar REE NAY Aun’ GAn Hus-sayn’ MoNn-s00’ REE Other proper names: AHL-LAH’ (Allah) TaAy-RAHN’ (Tehran) \ i ,. / *. 7 r ReaeeK an) AH’ BOO AW" LEE SEE’ NAH (Abu Ali Sina) ErE-RAHK’ (Iraq) Er’ mom Ris’ aw (Imam Riza) Other words: BaAy-roon’ EE (Beirunt) ON-DE-ROON’ EE (Anderunt) Cuay’ LA (Chela) Pee’ LAF (Pilaf) Fer-ENG’ GEE (Hard “g”) (Firenght) SHeEr’ AH (Shia) GrE-HAN’ NuM (Soft “g”) (Jehannum) Str-oc’ co (Sirocco) Hay’ JEE (Broad “a”) (Hajjt) Soo’ FEE (Sufi) KHAN (Broad “a”) Soon’ NEE (Sunni) Vi 1a (Long “i’—Vate) 2In Scene I, this ceremony should properiy be performed by the Dervish and Kasim before their Evening Prayer, and therefore need not be repeated before the serving of the tea, which follows this so closely. A Persian Rose Kasim’s Song H. L. Witicox 7s Ee eee: 2 eS One light - ly touched the Rose, and _ said: 2 aria ate) = eS See eee = G feted ofS et a is but thorns, It is but thorns! An - oth - er, paus-ing, D -: a a pee = +— Fee oe see ee gazed, and cried: Nay, Beau - ty too! A third looked a ox oN ~ oN o~ Ret SS SS ey os meets s, in - to its heart and sighed: More, Love is here. FOR PARTIAL PRODUCTION There may be groups that would like to include a brief dramatic presenta- tion as a part of a program, but would not care to use a play of this length. For such groups the following arrangement is suggested as practicable, though it is not particularly recommended. The first scene may be omitted, and the sec- end scene introduced by a speech made by the servant Mansouri, in character, as he appears in the play. Introductory Speech To be used when Scene I is omitted Mansouri comes out from the men’s quarters, at left, and ascends the small platform at left front. He puts his finger to his lips and looks cautiously about, to make sure no one is listening. Mansourt: S-s-s-sh! I will tell you a secret. My master is in trouble. And, especially, my mistress! What! You do not know my master? He is the Aga Ali, who has a house in the Ispahan Road, near the fruit bazaar. He is well known to the people of Tehran because he is so hospitable. And, besides, he belongs to a good family. I, Mansouri, am proud to serve him! . But now, the hand of Allah is heavy upon him, and he knows not which way to turn. You see, he has a daughter. Several years ago, she was betrothed to the son of Aga Hussein. He is the Khan, or Headman, of a village out on the edge of the desert. The son’s name is Kasim. Of course, no one at my master’s house has ever seen him, but it, is rumored that he is a fine and manly youth. Zeinab, my master’s daughter, is now fifteen years old, and Aga Hus- sein came about a week ago to make arrangements for the wedding. Now this put my master into a difficult position. Let me see—have I told you about Cousin Sakineh? No? Well, my master has a cousin who is a widow, about twenty-three years old. She lives with the family, and has a great influence over Zeinab. In fact, the whole trouble is largely her fault! She has taught the girl all sorts of strange ideas, and has taken her to hear speeches by the Firenghi, the Westerners, even by Christians. Indeed, I have reason to suspect that she has a copy of the Sacred Book of the Infidels! But of all the foolishness she has put into the child’s head, the worst is this: she has persuaded her that she is too young to marry!) So—Zeinab refuses to be married now. Whoever heard of a well-brought-up Moslem girl doing such a thing? The Khan stayed here two whole days, arguing about the matter, but my master would not force his daughter to be married against her will, and she would not give in. Finally, Aga Hussein went home, very angry! My mistress, Fatimah, has been wailing and scolding about the house ever since. But that is not the worst of it! I’m going to tell you something that no Y) one in my master’s household knows. I heard it from a servant in a - country inn, some miles outside the city. He says that two days ago, a wandering Dervish stopped at the inn, His name is Mehdi Murshid, and he has often been a guest in the house of Aga Ali. My master likes to hear him talk. Well, this time, he was on his way back from the Great Pilgrimage to Mecca, and a few days before, he had stopped at the house of Aga Hussein, the father of Kasim. In fact, he was there when the Khan returned from his visit here, and my friend overheard him telling someone what happened. It seems that when the Khan reported the state of affairs here, Kasim was at first very angry, and threatened to come with the men of his tribe and carry off my master’s daughter by force. But then, his heart turned completely around in him, and he resolved to forget Zeinab entirely—to put away the thought of marriage, and go out with the wandering Dervish, as a Seeker after Truth. And sure enough, there he was at the inn with the Dervish—as proper a chela as ever you saw! My friend thought they were bound for Tehran, but (he looks off, right back)—hush! I cannot tell you any more, because I hear my mistress, Fatimah, coming out on to the women’s balcony. And now I remember, I must go to bring the young mistress and her cousin home from a meeting ! (He makes a low bow and goes out, left front.) Note. It is perhaps hardly necessary to add that if this arrangement is used, the players should be thoroughly familiar with the text of Scene T. 10 CHARACTERS Kasim, son of Aga Hussein Roaten, his sister, a girl about fourteen years of age Leixa, his mother Dervish Merenupi Mursuip, a wandering dervish, a man of middle age Aca Hussern, the Khan of the village, a man about forty years of age ~ = Aca Aut, a merchant of Tehran, a man about thirty- five years of age FaTIMAH, his wife, a woman about thirty years of age, but appearing much older ZEINAB, their daughter, a girl fifteen years of age SAKINEH, a cousin of Ali, a widow about twenty-three years of age but appearing somewhat older Mansour, a man-servant in the house of Aga Ali 11 ~Saud HHL YAO NYOM SI Wadd aHL N IT IAW £0 HONA N AHM ANOLSOD AOOCNI NHS WOOGNT STHI ONIDV1daa ST QTHIHS MOVId AHL G4HL “ANNLSOD WOOaGL ‘UAAAMOH “NVWO i Ad TIWA ALIHM 10 ‘TIVNOILIGVEL AHL M NAACOW AHL NVINOM NV HHL AO ANWNLSOD WOOANI : 8 i * Isuad IVNOILIGVUL AHL 2 KASIM SCENETI SettinG. The beiruni (public court) of the dwelling of Aga Hussein, the Khan of * a Persian village in the region of Tehran. At the rear a wide doorway opens on to the desert country, with a glimpse of snow-capped peaks in the distance against the blue sky. There is a door at left leading to the men’s sleeping quarters, and one at right leading to the anderuni, or women’s side of the house. There is no furniture, but there should be a platform about six feet square and six or eight inches high, at left front. This should be covered with a Persian rug. The walls should be a light gray. At the beginning of the scene the rays of the setting sun pour into the court through the opening at the rear, slanting from the right; and also from overhead at right, since the court is unroofed. This throws the right side of the court into shadow, which deepens until dusk, when the moonlight falls on that side of the court. The time is just before sunset on a summer evening. The court is empty. As the auditorium is darkened for the play to begin, a man’s voice is heard from off left, singing the follow ng .song (see page 8): One lightly touched the Rose, and said: “Tt is but thorns!” Another, pausing, gazed and cried: “Nay-—Beauty, too!’ A third looked into its heart, and sighed: “More: Love is here!” During the singing Rogieh comes in quietly from right, listens an imstant, then laughs silently, motioning to someone off right, her finger on her lips. On the last note of the song she breaks out in @ trill of laughter and moves a few steps toward center. Kasim enters from left. RogigH: Singing of your bride again, brother? (Turning off right) Mother, did you hear? She is a rose! Whoever thought of such a thing before! Kasim, startled, is inclined for a moment to resent her badinage. Then he turns with a shrug and comes down to the platform at left front, where he seats himself cross-legged on the rug, looking straight out front. This action does not interrupt Rogieh, who goes right on speaking, only coming down a few steps, at right. At the same time Leila enters, right, and pauses near center. Yesterday, she was “the moon in its fourteenth night.” (IVith mock sympathy) But truly, Kasim, the more you dream of her beauty, the more sadly disappointed you may be. Suppose she is not beautiful at all? 13 Kasim: (Still looking straight out, and speaking in a low voice, as though to himself) I shall have had the dreams. (Then, speaking quickly over his shoulder) But she is beautiful! At the betrothal it was said— Rogen: “It was said!” Yes, by her own family. You know very well that none of us were there—except our father—and of course he did not see her. LeiLa: Come, Roqieh, we must get the water. And you should not tease your brother. A young man must have some picture in his mind of the girl he is to marry. That is only natural. (Turning to Kasim) And not all bridegrooms are disappointed, my son. RogreH: Well, he will soon know the worst. Father should return home tonight, and (eagerly) if all has gone well in Tehran, we shall have the wedding soon—shall we not, Mother? Leita: Very soon, I think. Come, child! (She goes back, takes up a water-jar from the ground, places it on her shoulder, and starts to go out at rear.) RogieH: But it is almost the hour of evening prayer. Is it safe to leave Kasim alone? Last night I caught him bowing toward Tehran instead of Mecca. (She runs down to center front and points off right.) That way is south, brother. (Leila goes out rear, turning to right. Roqieh runs back laughing merrily, takes up her water-jar and pauses in the opening at rear, looking off right. Immediately she runs back, comes down front, and speaks quietly.) Brother, the Dervish, Mehdi Murshid is here! He has just come by the desert road—from the south. Kasim: (Jumping up eagerly) From the south! Returning from the Pilgrimage! (With awe) He has seen Mecca! RogigeH: (Turning toward rear) He is here! Mehdi enters at rear. Rogieh passes him silently and goes out. Kasim goes quickly to meet him at center, drops on his knees, bends low, and places lis hands on Mehdi’s feet, then bends to kiss them. Mehdi ' leans over and lifts him tenderly. Meupr: (With feeling) My son, my son! Kasim is incoherent from excitement and awe. Still on his knees, he lifts the hem of Mehdi’s robe and murmurs. Kasim: The dust of the Sacred City! (He es his head and rubs the cloth upon his cheeks reverently.) Meupr: (Smiling indulgently, as if in vicarious sympathy with Kasim’s ecstasy) Dust, indeed—and plenty of it! (Half to himself) But the sand of the desert is cleaner. Rise, my son, and embrace me. 14 Kasim rises and they embrace. Then Kasim takes a step backward and surveys Mehdi. Kasim: The green turban! (With a low bow) Hajji—my father! Meupt: Yes, I have made the Great Pilgrimage; and, not being so young as you, | am weary. Kasim: Forgive me, my father! Come and rest. (He leads Mehdi to the platform and hovers about him as he seats himself on the rug.) Th women have gone for water and soon we shall have tea. : Meupr: (Sighing) That is well. (He looks closely at Kasim) And while we wait, you shall tell me to what your destiny has led you in my absence, son of my heart. Kasim: I am to be married. My father went to Tehran three days ago to complete the arrangements. He should be at home tonight. Meupr: (Slowly) Ah? So! Strange, how that which is to be can change us. Kasim: Change? You find me—different ? Meupt: (Gazing at him for a moment without speaking) I thought so, for a little. Now I perceive that it is but the difference of the desert, which at the hour of sunset vibrates tenderness through all its breathing and, in the blue-gold silence of the dawn, lifts us above our human selves and human loves into the stern beauty of Allah. Kasim: (After thinking deeply) I had thought the dawn-light was over for me, but—O my father, when you stood before me, and I knew you came from Mecca, it rose again in my heart. I forgot my bride! Menor: I shall pray to Allah that the dawn-light may never fail for you, my son. Kastm: What does it mean? It comes upon me when the dream. of hap- piness has wrapped me round and folds me in great silence where my- self{—my dreams—are lost—and there is nothing but a Voice that calls— and calls—I know not whence, or whither. I only feel that I must follow. Meupr: Do I not know, my son? I have followed the Voice through a lifetime of wandering—and finally, I have followed it to Mecca. Kasim: (With a keen look) And the Pilgrimage has brought you—? Menpi: (With a little shrug) Wisdom it is well to have—though dis- appointing. Kasim: (Shocked) You were disappointed—in Mecca? 15 Menpr: (Slowly) Everything is bought and sold—in Mecca. But faith and peace come not through barter. I have known truer Seekers in the Wilderness. (/Te turns with a self-quizzical smile to Kasim.) This too I learned, that Pride has his hand upon the camel-goad,of many a pilgrim—aye, and even pricks some of us who go afoot. Kasim smiles affectionately in response to this self-revelation; then sighs and looks away. Kasim: But, my father, before you went to Mecca—where had your seek- ing led? Meupi: (After thought) My seeking has not led to much, Kasim. In the eyes of the world, to nothing. I have not even a home in which to rest from my long journey. But here and there along the way a young soul waits my coming—looks to me for a rekindling of the dawn-light of which we spoke—and loves me. These are the homes of my spirit— more precious than palaces. And dearest of all art thou, my son. Kasim: (Musing) It is strange! Meupr: I-believe it is thy destiny to find what I have only sought. (Eagerly) When I am rested, I have much to tell you! I have talked with pilgrims from all the lands where men bless the name of the Holy Prophet—upon him be peace! Kasim: Ah! I should like to have been there! Menpr: There is a pulse a-thrill from Egypt to Bombay—from the Gold Coast to Shanghai! I do not know its meaning fully—cannot see—but you will see! In your time it will be clear. And so—(he finishes with great tenderness )—through you, though I am here no longer, shall my seeking find its goal. Kasim: (Wrapt im revery) And—Mecca—? Meupr: (Understanding the incomplete question) Ah!—Mecca is the symbol of the Search; and so, when I bow my body toward the Holy City, my spirit bows before that inner Light that leads men on. Kasim is thinking deeply. Through the silence comes the call of the muezzin to evening prayer. Quietly, Mehdi and Kasim spread their prayer rugs and kneel, facing south (right). They go through the prescribed movements. The light changes from rose to violet. As they rise, the women enter hastily from rear. RogieH: (Standing in the doorway and pointing off left rear) It is my father! I am sure that is his horse. Kasim: (Running to door and looking off, left) You are right, Roqieh! It is indeed my father. (Coming down, excitedly) In five minutes he will be here, and I shall know when the wedding is to be! 16 The women hasten out, right. Menpt: (Seating himself again on the platform, snuiling with sympathetic “interest) Let me see—I remember! You were betrothed to the daugh- ter of a merchant of Tehran? Kasim: Yes—a good family. She is now fifteen years old, and my father said we should be married. Meupt: (Nodding silently, then turning to Kasim with @ quizzical but friendly smile) So you will soon be lording it over a young bride, How will you tame her if she be wilful? Kasim: (Smiling a little, then sobering suddenly and looking off) There is a question I would ask you, O my father. Menpi: Yes? Kasim: Must a wife be tamed? Is there—no other way? Menpr: “Other way”? What is it that knocks at the gates of your under- standing, my son? Kasim : I will tell you. I must tell you! I went with my father to Tehran on his last trip. I saw a picture at the Cinema theater. Meupr: (Nodding) I have seen such—twice. Kasim: An American play it was, and it showed a young man and his wife, in their home. They did not live with his people—they had a home of their own. Menupr: Yes—yes. That is true. Kasim: (With growing eagerness) But that was not the strangest thing. (He hesitates, feeling for words) Hehe did not even try to tame her. He did not tell her what to do! They seemed to decide things together. Why—(he pauses as if fearing that what he has to say will be incredible) —it was almost as if they were friends. Mehdi is watching Kasim keenly, with a sort of repressed excitement. Kasim: (With a sudden revulsion of feeling, as if half-ashamed of his credulity) Of course, it is probably not true. It is just what someone has imagined, but— Menpt: It is a part of that whereof I spoke—that new pulse throbbing ‘n the world of Islam! Men are dreaming of it in Morocco, and in India; in Syria, and on the Nile. Kasim: Dreaming! Ha! My little sister thinks I have been dreaming of thei beauty of my bride. It is true that I have thought of that, but the thing that has held me in the courts of Silence for months past has been 17 the dream of this—this love that has the strength and loyalty of friend- ship—this friendship that has the ecstasy of love. My father, tell me the truth! Do you believe it can be—possible ? Meupr: (Looking Kasim squarely in the eyes) I do believe it. Kasim leaps to his feet and stands looking straight out, tense with a great exaltation and a great purpose. Before he has time to speak, Leila and Rogieh enter, right. Leila brings two lamps, or lanterns, which she places, one on a platform, or ona standard, at right, and the other at left. She then withdraws to the doorway, at rear, to watch for the Khan. Rogieh brings a tray with tea-things, which she places on the platform at Kasim’s right. Then she goes to doorway at rear. Kasim pours the tea and passes a cup to Mehdi, then takes one him- self. Mehdi murmurs “Shuk’r Allah!” and drinks. Kasim also drinks. When he has finished, Mehdi puts his cup on the floor, and Kasim does likewise. RogieH: (Dashing out to meet the Khan) Father! The mother also steps outside for the greeting. Kasim rises quickly and crosses to right center to meet his father. As the Khan enters, the two women enter behind him and slip out quietly, right. Kasim bows low before the Khan. Kasim: My father! “Welcome! See, the Dervish, Mehdi Murshid, is here—home from the Pilgrimage! The Khan comes down and bows low before Mehdi, with every sign of deference, placing his hands upon those of the Dervish. HusseE1n: Hajji, you are thrice welcome! Kasim: (Unable to contain his anxiety any longer) And the wedding, Father? What of the wedding? Is the day fixed upon? HussEIn: (Stiffening with indignation) They have all gone mad together ! Your bride is maddest of all! Kasim: Ha! What is this? Meupi: What words are these! Under the exclamations of the men are heard faint, repressed screams of excitement from the women, who have remained in the passage at right, to hear the news. Husse1n: They have laughed at my beard! Ha! The man is ruled by a girl-child! His own daughter! Kasim: (Getting his breath) My father! What has happened ? 18 Hussein: (Passing his hand across his eyes with a sigh of great weariness ) Ah! The wings of my soul are weary! Let me rest. (//e moves toward the platform, and Kasim hastens to pour lum some tea.) Meupt: (Nodding sympathetically) Anger is hard labor to the spirit. Kasim: Rest, my father, and drink some tea! The Khan seats himself on the platform. Kasim hands a cup of tea to his father, who takes it, murmuring, “Shuk’r Allah!’ He drinks. The two women can be seen peering anxiously into the court from the passage at right. During the conversation that follows, they make excited whispered comments to each other. Now and then, in a pause, one is audible. Kasim: (Unable to restrain his impatience longer) My father, cannot you tell us, now, what has happened ? Hussein: (Grimly) Yes—I will tell you! The men of Tehran have handed the reins of their households over to the women! At least, the father of your bride has done so—and many others. Kasim and Mehdi gaze at him in incredulous silence. He looks from one to the other, sees their unbelief, and speaks sharply. You think my mind is loosed from its moorings? It would not be strange, after what 1 have seen and heard! But I am telling you the truth. Kasia: But—the betrothal? The wedding? Hussein: (With scornful sarcasm) The wedding, my son, will take place when the bride determines upon the date. Kasim: (Utterly at sea) Wha—what is your meaning, my father? Hussein: Well, well—how should I expect you to comprehend, all in a moment, what required two days to penetrate to the outer court of my own understanding! I suppose I must begin at the beginning (thought- fully), though how far back that goes, I do not know—perhaps to the first mother. (He sinks into thought.) Kasim: Yes, Father? Hussern: (Beginning his tale with an effort) The father of your bride received me with all hospitality. I had sent a message saying I would visit him to complete arrangements for the wedding, and I could not ep as why it was so difficult to bring him to the point—until after- wards! Kasim: Was he not satisfied ? 19 Hussein: Yes. We went over all the details, and he professed himself much pleased—but still he balked at fixing on a day. Kasim: (Alarmed) Has anything happened to——? Hussein: To your bride? No—nothing except that she has gone mad, as I told you. Kasim: But I do not wish to marry a mad woman! HussEIN: (Grimly) This madness may be cured—if taken in time. But her father—pouf! A weakling! Throughout the following scene Mehdi watches the Khan and Kasim, especially the latter, with intense and sympathetic interest. Meup1: How does her infirmity manifest itself, Aga? HussEIN: (Counting off the points on his fingers, as having memorized a difficult lesson) She will not marry until she is older—she will have a hand in choosing her husband—Humph!—she will not live the veiled life of her mother—and all decent women—but must be free to go and come as she pleases, Kasim: (Still bewildered) But her husband is already chosen. I am he! And as to the kind of life she will lead—that will be for me to say. Hussein: (/ronically) She thinks not. Kasim: (Strutting; for the moment quite the young lord of creation) Ha! She will find out the length of her tether when I get my hand on it! Mehdi looks at him with a little thoughtful smile. Why does not her father command her to get ready? Ffussein: (Looking quickly at his son, then away, and musing for a moment) Strange matters are afoot in Tehran. It seems that some years ago a group of women got together secretly and swore they would not allow their daughters to marry until they had reached a certain age. Kasim: But why? HusskE1n : Well—they had heard, somewhere, that the women of the West are married later, and that they do not grow old so soon. Moreover, a foreign doctor, in the hospital, had persuaded them that more of their babies would live to grow up. Kasim: How absurd! Hussein: We do not know, my son, whether that is absurd or not—but there are enough who do grow up, as it is! 20 His wife, in doorway at right, hfts a hand in silent protest, but the men do not see. However, this secret society of women has grown until it numbers hundreds. Their daughters have been taught to think of marriage, and of life, in a new light. They have learned many things. Some of them can read and write. They claim they have a right to education—to more time to prepare for the respon- sibilities of life—more time to enjoy their girlhood. that Zeinab—has heard of all this? Hussein: Heard of it! She is in the thick of it. She goes to meetings— studies English with a Firenghi woman—has opinions on_ political conditions. Kasim: You mean that my Kasim: Her mother—she is a member of that Society? Hussein: No; I believe her mother is a good woman-—but she cannot control her daughter ! Kasim: But how does all this prevent her father from arranging for the wedding? Hussein: (Slowly, evidently trying to be fair) Her father, also, has heard strange things. He has talked with men of the West—with travel- ers from the East. He told me that hundreds of Chinese women are studying in universities and schools! He says that in Constantinople and in Cairo women go freely about the streets unattended! Kasim: There are many Christians in those cities. Husse1n: But these are Moslem women. There are men, of his acquain- tance who begin to wonder. Menptr: (Speaking half unconsciously) The pulse throbs even in Tehran. Kasim: (Sternly, not noticing the Dervish's remark) And therefore, he refuses to consummate the marriage ? : HusseEIn: He does not refuse. But he is unwilling to force his daughter to marry against her will. His counsel is to wait for time to change her point of view, and her interests. (Jn spite of himself a note of irony creeps into his tone at the end of this speech.) Kasim: But we are betrothed. She belongs to me. To our family. If her father is to be allowed to repudiate his obligations in this way, what becomes of law, and justice? Hussein: (With a hopeless shrug) Two days have I consumed with words, my son, and it was unavailing, Kasim: (With sudden violence) I shall not trust to words. The time has come for deeds. Zeinab is mine. By the beard of the Imam Riza, I shall take her! The two older men look up at the youth, startled. The Khan gazes at him as if suddenly realizing that he has grown up. He speaks to his son, not as to a child, but as to a man. Hussein: How will you take her, Kasim? Tehran is a large city, well guarded by police. Kasim: I can easily gather half a hundred of our tribe—or more. The Khan nods. I will lead them to a place outside the city. Then I shall reconnoitre, and lay my plans for the attack. On the second night, I shall bring her away. (The gleam of triumph is in his eye. It is clear that he fancies himself in a herotc role.) Hussein: (After thinking intently, rising quickly) They have laughed at our beards! I will go with you, my son, and we shall take your bride, as befits strong and valiant men! Kasim: (Realizing that the Dervish is silent) Hajji, is not my plan a good one? Meupi: (Slowly) The oasis of your dream will hardly be possessed by force of arms, Kasim. Kasim: (After a startled instant) Dreams can wait, my father. This is a time for action. Menpt: Hasty action has dried the springs of many a dream. Kasim attempts to swagger, 1s uncertain, finally yields to the mys- terious influence of the Dervish. Kasim: Hajji, you have drained the fighting blood from my heart. But —what else is there to do? Menp!: Wait, my son, in patience, for a time. Hussein: (Who feels himself somewhat left out) Perhaps it would be wiser to give them a little more time. Kasim: Oh, it is easy for old men to counsel patience! The Khan straightens lis shoulders and opens his mouth to protest, but lets it pass. I will have her now, or else forget her! After all, she is only a woman; why should I be bo bo eating so much grief! Marriage would interfere with my search—almost certainly it would. (To the Dervish) You.have said I should succeed in that! And that is older and deeper in my heart than—this other, which is only a dream. (He is evidently torn between two elements in his nature, and speaks jerkily, with pauses between, almost UNCONSCIOUS of the others.) Why should I not be free—to follow the Quest un- hampered? I am a wanderer at heart! I too must talk with pilgrims from afar. I must know what men are dreaming, in Iraq, and in Cathay! (He stands silent for a moment, head lifted, the ecstasy of the mystic im his eyes. Then he turns suddenly to the Dervish.) Hajji, I will go with you! I will fold up the carpet of my dreams and go out upon the Quest. As your disciple will I go—(with tender playfulness)—if you will have me. Meuptr: (Rising, almost overwhelmed) My son—my son! (He embraces Kasim.) So, every camp upon the desert would be home. Ah—no! I am not worthy—too much happiness—and you— (he is almost breathless with his inner struggle )—your path lies not that way.—I said that you will find—True! But first you must find a surer way of seeking —You must learn—far more than I can teach you. No—no! It is not as my disciple that you will find the Truth. (He gives a great sigh and sits suddenly, as though spent.) Ah—me! In youth we fancy that age frees us from temptations ! Kastm: (Vaguely puzzled by the depth of his emotion, and trying to make light of it) Whether you will or not, I am going with you, my father! It is you who have aroused this deepest passion in my life. Meup1: (Jn quick protest) Not I, my son! It is Allah himself who lights that fire. Kasim is silent, a little awed. In the pause, the Khan, who has been speechless with amazement, speaks. Hussein: What is all this, Kasim? Do you mean that you will leave your home—your mother and sister—(the little pause suggests that he hesi- tates to urge his own claim)—to follow a wandering dervish? Your pardon, Hajji—I mean no disrespect. Kasim: (In quick defense) Surely, you know that the Hajji is no ordi- nary dervish, Father! Yes, it is true—l see, now—the only thing that has been keeping me from setting forth upon my Search has been this dream—this foolish dream! (He laughs a trifle bitterly.) It is clear that women all need taming. Menpt: Perhaps we need it, too, Kasim. Kasim looks sharply at the Dervish, but makes no reply. 23 Hussein: Then I am to send a message to Tehran that the betrothal is broken off ? Meupi: Must that be done at once? They have asked for time; why not wrap the matter in the garment of silence for a little? And, Kasim, you shall come with me, at the start. I can put you on the road, at least. Yes—yes! There are things that I must show you. (He rises, hs strength renewed by his enthusiasm.) Kasim: Let us start at once—tonight ! Menor: It is well said! I am refreshed—by hospitality (with a gracious bow to the Khan), and joy. Let us go forth! HussEIn: (Bewildered) Must you go so soon, my son? Kasim: This is the writing of Destiny, Father! I see it, now. When one’s destiny becomes clear, there is nothing left to do but follow. HussEIn: (Nodding slowly) That is a true word. Well—I will prepare the women ; be you prepared for lamentation! (He turns toward right.) The women, who have been motionless with amazement for several minutes, withdraw hastily. The Khan goes out. He pauses at the entrance of the anderuni and gives a little cough, as warning of his ap proach. Menpr: (Absorbed in his vision of the future) Ah! the things that you will see, my son! Things that your father never saw even in a dream. Kasim: My father has visited Tehran—many times. Where shall we see finer things than the Shah’s palace—the mosques—the Peacock Throne? Menpr: There are matters hid from the eyes of the flesh but revealed to the eye of the spirit. (He pauses, and then repeats the following in a sustained and reverent tone, obviously quoting.) The eye of man hath not seen, nor his ear heard; neither hath entered into the heart of man the things that God hath prepared, for them that love Him. Kasim: (Impressed by the words) Is that from the Koran, Hajji? Menpr: No—it is from the Christians’ Book. Kasim: The Christians’—the Infidels? How——? Menupi: (Turning to him and speaking with authority, as a teacher) Be not too quick to call them Infidels, my son. There are many among them who believe in the infinite wisdom and mercy of Allah, and seek his guidance devoutly, as any Moslem. KastM: (Amazed and shocked) Is this indeed so, my father? Menpt: It is one of the things I must make clear to you, upon the road. 24 Kasim: But how—? Meupt: How do I know? I have talked with more than one of them— especially a teacher at Beirtit. He was a learned man—his brain stocked full of wisdom. He knew the blessed Koran from cover to cover—also strange writings from far-distant lands—from India and China. Our own poets of Iraq he had read; and the name of our immortal Abu Ali Sina’ was well known to him. Kasim: And still he remained an Inf—er—a Christian? The Dervish turns slowly and looks at Kasim with a mild gleam of humor im Ins eye. He nods slowly. Before he has time to speak, the Khan enters, right. Hussein: Kasim, your sister is preparing food for the road. The Hajji will desire to wash away the dust of his last journey before setting out again. I will take him to the guest-room while you say farewell to your mother. Her heart is heavy, son. Be tender with her. Kasim bows assent and goes to door, right. He coughs, and then goes in. The Khan invites the Dervish by a gesture to accompany lim off, left. He picks up the lamp and leads the way. . Meno: (Pausing, just before the Khan reaches the door) Aga, I would know the name and residence of the merchant of Tehran—the father of Kasim’s betrothed. Hussein: (Looking at him curiously, but answering with prompt cour- tesy) His name is Ali, and his house is in the Ispahan Road, near the fruit bazaar. Meup1: Ali—in the Ispahan Road! I know him well. Often have I drunk tea and eaten a pilaf in his house. Hussein: The man is affable enough—if he were not under the thumbs of his women-folk! Meupi: (Thoughtfully) It is hard for me to make a picture of him in my mind as under anybody’s thumb. He is a man of great curiosity. It may be that he watches to see what these women will do next. Hussein: It may be. Shall you be going to Tehran? Meupt: (With alittle shrug) Sooner or later my road brings me back to the capital. The Khan nods and leads the way off, left. Just before the Dervish disappears, the voice of the mother is heard from off right, in a sort of wail, 1 Avicenna is the European form of this name. 25 Lreita: Vaie! Vaie! My son, my son! Would that Allah gave thought to women when he writes the destinies of men! The Dervish, standing in the door, left, turns back toward center. The light from the Khan’s lamp in the passage falls upon him. Menpt: Allah has often put the pen of Destiny into a woman’s hands! (He turns and follows the Khan off.) End of Scene I Scene I may be ended as here indicated, or the following may be added, provided it is possible to control the lighting of the stage skillfully and effectively. The light of the lamp dies away. After an instant’s silence music (“March of the Magi Kings”) is heard faintly, as from a distance. Shadows envelop the court, but the light on the desert scene beyond grows gradually brighter, until it is of an almost unearthly radiance. The music increases in volume. When both music and light have reached the height of their crescendo, the Dervish comes from the left, and Kasim from the right. They meet in the opening at center, pause a moment and then go out through the opening, the Dervish first, Kasim following, several paces behind. They move silently, turning to the left. The music continues for several minutes after they have disappeared, becoming fainter, until it seems to die away in the distance. KY SN SCENE II Sertinc. The beiruni of the house of Aga Ali, in the Ispahan Road, Tehran. There is a balcony at the right, partly screened by draperies, where, however, players can be easily seen and heard. Access to this is from the right, both by steps leading from the court, and by a door opening to the balcony. Below, there is a wide opening at rear into a passage leading to the garden, and thence to the street. A glimpse of the garden may be seen through the passage. There is a door at left leading to the men’s quarters and another at right leading to the anderunt. There may be a basin with a fountain at center, but this is not essential. There should be rugs on the floor, and several large thick cushions to serve for seats. The walls may also be hung with rugs or Oriental tapestries or prints. The time is afternoon, a week later. A moment after the curtain rises, Ali enters from left, carrying his outer cloak in his hand. He pauses near center and throws the cloak over his shoulders. At the same instant, his wife appears om the bal- cony, from the door on the upper level, as though she had been watch- ing for him. Fatimau: Where is the father of my obstinate and wayward daughter going? Aut: (Looking up with a slow smile while framing a propitiating answer) To the jewel bazaar, to buy a new bracelet for the mother of his child. Fatimah smiles in spite of herself, but immediately assumes an implacable expression. | Fatima: What have I done that I should be visited with such disgrace: a disobedient and unmaidenly daughter, and a husband who cannot gov- ern his own child! Att: Patience a littlk—patience! The child has a good spirit—and she may make the Aga’s son a better wife in the end if she is driven with a light hand now—who knows? Fatimau: “Who knows,” indeed! Who troubles himself to know any- thing about her? Do you know where she is at this moment? ALT oINO, Fatrmau: No? Well, I will tell you! She has gone to another of those meetings—where she learned all this nonsense, about not being mar- ried at an age when all respectable girls are married. Wah! I was a mother at her age! 1 For a simpler setting, see ‘Production Notes,” page 3. 27 Aut: (Nodding slowly, then looking up at her with a keen glance) Try to think—one little minute. When you see Zeinab, eager, carefree, happy, and beautiful, even as her mother was beautiful at fourteen, are you really sorry that she is not nursing a baby? Fatima: (Avoiding a direct answer with a gesture of impatience) But how will it end? Perhaps the son of the Aga will not want her when he hears of her wilfulness, and then how shall we ever get her married? Aut: (Thoughtfully) There are young men in Persia who are demand- ing educated wives. Girls’ voices are heard, off rear. Oh, here is Zeinab now! Cousin Sakineh is with her, I suppose? Fatiman: (With a snort of disgust) Cousin Sakineh! Is she not always with her? Would Zeinab ever have gone to this mad length of folly if it had not been for Cousin Sakineh? Please remember that she is a cousin of yours, not Ali hfts a hand to warn her, but Zeinab and Sakineh have already appeared in the doorway at rear, followed by Mansouri, Sakineh glances up at the balcony, and hesitates. Aur: I do remember it, with satisfaction. (To the servant) That will do, Mansouri. Mansouri bows and goes out, left. Ah turns to Zeinab. Well, was your meeting interesting? ZEINAB: Wonderful, Father! SAKINEH: (Dreamily) It has opened the tents of our souls toward the sunrise. FatimaH: (To the world in general) In my youth it was considered heresy for a woman to talk about her soul—and bad taste, besides. Zeinab looks at Sakineh with a little shrug, then turns to her father. ZEINAB: My English teacher was there and spoke to us about the lives of women in America. FatimaH: More of these infidel notions! As if it were not enough that you should wear the indecent dress of the Firenghi! How your father can allow you to go to those meetings— Ali turns away with a shrug of impatience, and starts for door at rear, with an evident impulse to leave the women to fight it out. Fatimah- seeing him, demands: Where are you going? 28 Aut: (Glancing from his wife to Zeinab and back; incisively) To the leather bazaar, to buy a pair of English boots for your daughter! (He goes out quickly.) Fatiman: (Lifting her hands with a gesture of despair) Aie! Aie! The Aga spoke a true word when he said you had all gone mad! I could have told him of one member of the family who is still sane, but I am only a woman, so what does it matter? (She goes off right, wailing, “Ate! Atel’) ZEINAB: Oh, Sakineh, will my mother ever understand? SAKINEH: I think she will, Zeinab. Your life will make it clear. ZEINAB: My life! What will it be? Where is the prophet who can tell me? SAKINEH: Allah does not give us a pattern in advance, such as is given to the rug-weavers. ZEINAB: Are you quite sure, Sakineh, that we do not—make our own? SAKINEH: (Glancing quickly up at the balcony; half playfully and half in earnest) My dear little cousin, do you not know that what you say is, in truth, heresy, in Islam? (More seriously) It may be that our experi- ments in designing are, in themselves, a part of the plan of the A'l-Wise. Zeinab turns from philosophy to her personal problem with a little shrug. ZEINAB: But see what I have woven into my life! The father of my betrothed thinks me mad-—and my mother agrees with him! As for my father, I do not know what he really thinks—do you? SAKINEH: I think he waits to see more of the pattern before making up his mind. ZrinaB: And, besides (she tries to speak lightly, but it is clear that this is her most serious concern), my betrothal may be broken off for good— when the Aga reaches home. (The laugh which she bravely attempts might easily be mistaken for a sob. Sakinch looks at her with quick and tender concern, then speaks casually. ) SAKINEH: Come up to the balcony, dear, where we can remove these stuffy wraps, and then we will talk it over. Sakineh goes up the steps, and Zeinab follows. On reaching the bal- cony, they remove their outer wraps and then seat themselves on cushions on the balcony floor. Sakineh speaks solemnly. I have something to tell you, little sister, a very strange thing. ZEINAB: What is it, Sakineh? Sakinen: I have not told you because—well, the idea had to make itself at home in my mind. Three days ago I had a talk with the wife of the American missionary. She told me that within the last few years num- bers of young men have asked the missionaries to choose wives for them from among the girls who have been educated in their school. A quick intake of breath expresses Zeinab’s amazement. In several cases the girls had become Christians before they were se- lected by the missionaries, but this made no difference to the young men, One man even said, “So much the better!’’ Now it has been working itself out in my mind that if you could persuade your father to send you to that school for a year or so— ZeINAB: (Jumping up in her excitement) Oh, Sakineh, I’d love to! SAKINEH: You already know some English, and a little geography and history— ZEINAB: And I have read some in their Book— Sakineh puts her finger quickly to her lips with a startled glance around to see if anyone has overheard. Zeinab also is startled for an instant, but is too much excited to remain silent. Oh, I see! I see what you mean, Sakineh. I will do it! Who cares for the son of a village Khan, anyway? I don’t wish to bury myself in the desert! Saxinen: (With some hesitation) And, Zeinab, she said that there had been some young men—educated men—who had married widows— like me. ZEINAB: Oh, Sakineh! How wonderful it would be if— SAKINEH: She says that most girls in America are just getting married at my age—and I have been a widow for eight years! ZetnAB: After being a wife for less than one! SaxineH: If my baby had lived, it would have been different. ZEINAB: I know, Sakineh, dear. Saxinen: (Smiling fondly at her) But you have been my daughter— my little sister—my joy. Zeinab, you can never know what a delight it has been to me to see you take this stand. ZEINAB: You need not fear that I shall give in now, Sakineh, Ali enters from rear, quickly, and glances about the court and the balcony. Zeinab leans over the railing and greets him gaily. ZEINAB: Oh, Father! Did you find those English boots so quickly? Do let me see them! Aut: No, child. On my way to the bazaar, I met Dervish Mehdi Murshid, who has just returned from the Pilgrimage. I have brought him home with me, for I would hear his tale. He is waiting in the garden. His tone and gesture indicate gently that the women are expected to retire. Sakineh rises and draws her chudder more closely around her, Zeinab also draws her chudder about her, but at the same time speaks eagerly to her father. ZEINAB: Oh, Father, you promised me that the next time he came, I might stay and listen to the talk. And now Cousin Sakineh is here, to stay with me! I want so much to hear about the Pilgrimage—you will let us stay, won’t you? Ati: (Slowly) It is true that I promised you, Zeinab, but— ZEINAB: Well? Aut: This time the Dervish has a chela—a disciple—with him—a young man. ZEINAB: But since he is a “holy man,” Father,—what harm? Aut: Well—well—I cannot disappoint you, child. (He goes out.) The women assist each other to arrange their chudders, fluttering with excitement. ZEINAB: Oh, Sakineh, I feel that this day will stand out in the pattern of my life as if it were woven in bright red! They sit down. Immediately Ali ushers in Mehdi and Kasim. Aut: (Indicating the corner of the court at left front) Be seated, Hajji. (He turns to door at left and claps his hands loudly.) Mehdi and Kasim seat themselves on the rug, or on cushions at left front; Mehdi is facing front, and Kasim, at his left, is so placed that he can easily see the women in the balcony. Kasim: (Leaning toward Mehdi and speaking very low) What is his name? Meupr: (Glancing over his shoulder and percewing Ali coming down toward them, speaks hastily and low) What matter? He is courteous. Ali comes down at right of Mehdi. Aut: (Indicating the women by a slight nod) My daughter, and cousin, desire to listen to your story, Hajji. 31 Meupr: I am honored! Both Mehdi and Kasim bow slightly, but do not look directly at the women. Mansouri enters from left and bows. Aut: Bring tea, Mansouri. Mansouri bows again and goes out, left. Ali seats himself at right of Mehdi. With a courteous desire to include the young man in the con- versation Ali says: Hy af Hajji, did your new disciple accompany you to ecca ! Meup1: No, he has but recently joined me—for a short time. He has just decided to go into the American school here, for a year, at least. Glances of surprise and interest pass between Zeinab and Sakineh. Aut: The Christian School? Menor: It will do him no harm, Aga, to know their sacred writings. Another glance passes between the women. Ali also looks a little sur- prised. Our Blessed Prophet—upon whom be peace!—never denounced Jesus of Nazareth, or spoke of him with aught save reverence. Att: (Smiling quizzically) Is it such talk you heard in Mecca, Hajji? Menpr: I met pilgrims in the Holy City who had read the Christian Scriptures—yes, and found therein new light upon their way. Aut: (Still smiling) Ah? Then there were other free-thinkers on pil- grimage this year, besides yourself ¢ Meupr: Some who were good Shias or Sunnis on arrival were Sufis before they left. Aut: (Laughing) If they met you there, I can believe it! Menpr: I was by no means the chief disturber of their peace, Aga. Aut: What, then? (He has grown suddenly serious, and awaits Mehdi’s answer with intense interest.) Menupr: (Eagerly, to Kasim) What was it I said to you upon the road, my son? Did I not tell you that a wind of freedom sweeps across our Eastern world? Kasim: (Bowing in assent, speaking with great deference toward both the Dervish and the Aga, but as if lis enthusiasm will not be denied expression) You have not only told me, O my father, but you have made me feel it, as it were the sirocco on the desert! 32 Meupi: (Sighing deeply) Aie! In many places it is hot as though it blew straight from Jehannum. (Turning to Ali) For the most part, men see in it the freedom of the nations from oppression. And so ea gives up the Caliphate, that the Nation may be supreme— : (With sudden grim ferocity) And the Druses turn upon the French pati are shot down by hundreds! Menuptr: Aie! It is all illusion! Self-determination among the races will not save the world, so long.as the human spirit is in shackles. Kasim: But here and there, you said, the spirit moves to free itself—? Meupr: And so it does—among all faiths. As the Aga meditates this answer, Mansouri enters from left with the tea service. He places it before Ali, who pours the tea. Mansouri hands the cups to the men. They receive them with the phrase, “Shuk’r Allah!” and when the three men are served they drink to- gether. During this action the two women carry on a conversation in low tones, which, however, must be heard by the audience. ZEINAB: (Leaning toward her companion) Sakineh, this disciple—did you hear his voice when he spoke of freedom? SAKINEH: (Nodding cautiously) Yes! He knows the stirring of that desire. ZEINAB: He would understand— (She breaks off suddenly as if startled by her own thought.) ; SAKINEH: How a girl might feel it, too? Yes, I think he would. During the following moments, while the men are finishing their tea, Zeinab steals several cautious glances in the direction of the young chela. And Kasim, in the cessation of general conversation, finds his attention drawn to the presence of Zeimab. After several glances at alternate moments, their eyes finally meet, for an appreciable instant of tume. Zeinab immediately turns away and draws her chudder a little more closely about her face. Kasim is plainly startled, glances at her an instant, then gazes straight out, thinking deeply. He then tries to surprise another glance from her, but she is very cautious and he does not succeed. Fatimah appears for a moment in the balcony behind the young women, is horrified on seeing the men below, flings up both hands in despair, draws her chudder more closely about her, and withdraws quickly. Meanwhile, Mehdi puts down his cup. Kasim does likewise. Ali summons Mansouri, who has been waiting at rear, and motions for him to remove the service. He does so, going out, left. 33 Aut: (Resuming the conversation where it was broken off) You were saying, Hajji, that the human spirit frees itself. What is the secret of that freedom? Meupr: Ah! Men have sought it by lifting the yoke of the strong nations from the necks of the weaker—by breaking the bonds of slaves—by setting free the workers from the spell of those who claim ownership of the gifts of Allah. They have sought it everywhere save in their own hearts. And yet, hundreds of years before the time of our Blessed Prophet, it was written, Peace on Earth, among men of Good Will. How simple, after all, Aga! Good Will to one’s fellow men—that is the only power that can crush the head of the serpent, Hate. And only when that serpent shall be bound, will humanity be truly freed, to live the life to which Allah has destined it upon this earth. Aut: (who has been listening with intense absorption, gives a deep sigh as of immense relief from some mner burden) Hajji, I believe it is the Truth. Menot: It is this that men begin to understand. Even the Christians, after two thousand years, during which the serpent has used their relig- ion to weave new coils about them, are awaking. Many among them know that the real power of their faith lies in this principle of love as an active, moving force in human life, whether in racial and national affairs, in the labor and commerce of the world, in religion, in science, or— (he ends slowly) —in—the home. The word brings all the listeners back, with a start, to the immediate situation. Kasim looks up, and out, remembering his dream. Then he looks toward Zeinab. At the same moment she has ventured to steal another glance at him, and their eves meet again for an instant. Kasim draws a long breath and straightens his shoulders. Then he turns to Mehdi. Kasim: My father, you said that you had only sought. But I feel, in my heart, that this is Truth which you have found. Meupi: Ah! I see that much of Truth—and so do many others—East and West. The way to make that Truth prevail—that must be found by you young men—and (with a glance at Zeinab) —women. Zeinab and Sakineh look at each other quickly. Aut: (Musing) “And—women.” (He turns slowly and glances toward the balcony over his shoulder, then addresses the Dervish deliberately.) Hajji, you have touched, unknowingly, upon a question of importance in this household. (He thinks a moment.) Since we have here two holy men who have reflected upon these matters, I think my daughter will forgive me if I beg wisdom for our guidance. 34 Zeimab sits breathlessly still, her chudder drawn closely about her face. Kasim is greatly interested in what is to follow. The Dervish cannot keep a momentary gleam of triumph and amusement out of his eyes, but no one sees it, and he is immediately grave again. Menpr: Aga, my poor understanding is at your service. Aut: (Bowing us head shghtly in thanks to the Dervish, and meditating for a moment) Briefly, there are women in Tehran who feel that the time has come for them to take an active share in “making Truth pre- vail.” (Slowly) My daughter is among them. They believe that mar- riage should be deferred until a later age; that a woman should have some education before entering on the responsibilities of life; that she should be allowed some part in the selection of her husband; and that, when married, she should be free to do her part in the activities of the community, instead of being secluded in the home, as Moslem women have been for centuries. (He pauses for comment.) Meupr: (Nodding slowly) I have heard something like that before. (He glances at Kasim, but the youth is seemingly paralyzed by aston- ishment. ) Aut: And you think—? The Dervish meditates his answer for a moment; then he turns to look Ali squarely in the eyes, and speaks with authority. © Menor: I believe, Aga, that all this is a necessary part of the liberation . of the human spirit. I believe that woman’s growth is checked and thwarted by our customs, and the race can never attain the summit of its destiny so long as woman lags behind. There is a hush for a moment. Zeinab ts ‘stirred out of: her self- consciousness. She lifts her head, and takes a deep breath, looking straight out. Aut: But consider my situation, Hajji. My daughter was betrothed, some years ago, and recently the father of the young man, knowing she had reached the customary age of marriage, came to make arrangements for the wedding. Thereupon, my daughter declared she would not be married, now, and — er — made other conditions. The father has gone _ away in wrath, the mother of my daughter is in perpetual lamentation, and— Ali’s attention is here attracted by an inarticulate gasp of amazement from Kasim, who has been staring at him open-mouthed during the preceding speech. Mehdi has been watching Kasim furtively, As Ali pauses, Kasim leaps to his feet. Kastm: (Breathlessly) Aga—what is the name of your daughter? Att: (Gazing at him in surprise) Her name is Zeinab. 35 Kasim: And yours? Aut: (His curiosity submerging possible resentment at the youth's im- petuosity) My name is Ali. What—-? Kasim: And I am Kasim, the son of Hussein. I am your daughter’s betrothed. Zeinab, from age-old habit, rises quickly and starts to run from the balcony, through the upper door, drawing her chudder over her face. Sakineh also rises and follows her, In the sudden silence below, the rustle of their garments is plainly heard. Ali rises quickly and speaks gently, but in a tone to be obeyed. Att: Wait, Zeinab! Zeinab pauses, but keeps her head turned away. Ali turns to the Dervish. Is this true, Hajji? Menpi: (Rising also) It is true, Aga. But the young man did not know this was your house. ; Ali looks at Kasim and sees confirmation of this in lis round-eyed — bewilderment. He thinks an instant, then turns to the balcony with a slow smile. Aut: Zeinab, you have claimed the right to choose your husband. Now, at the first opportunity, would you run away? Courage, my daughter! Remain here, and—let us consider. Do you still wish to choose for yourself ? Zeinab gives a helpless look of appeal at Sakineh, who smiles at her encouragingly. She turns, timidly, and comes slowly to the railing. She casts one or two fleeting glances toward Kasim, who is gazing at her, wholly unconscious of anything else. Then she speaks, in a low but clear voice, with lowered eyes. ZrEINAB: My father, I have already chosen. Aut: (Smiling, but not intending to let her off so easily) And who is the favored man? ZEINAB: (In a voice hardly above a whisper, her head drooping still lower) I will marry—my—betrothed. There is a moment's silence, Zeinab remaining with head bowed, and Kasim gazing at her, utterly absorbed. In the pause, the Dervish makes a sign to Ali, suggesting that they withdraw. Ali is at first doubtful, but presently nods in agreement, and leads the way off left. Sakineh, watching, takes the hint and slips out silently, through the 36 upper door. Kasim moves slowly, silently, and half-unconsciously, across to the foot of the balcony steps. When he reaches them, Zeinab becomes aware of his approach, looks up, and sees that the other men have disappeared. She looks wildly about for Sakineh, and, finding herself alone with Kasim, 1s minded to flee. Kasim: (Quickly) Oh, do not go away! This is a part of the new way, Zeinab—it is, indeed! Zeinab hesitates, slowly turns back, and finally dares to look at him for an instant. Ze1NAB: And shall we—follow the new way? Kasim: Through the whole journey, Zeinab—if light be given us. ZEINAB: (With a child’s delight) Then I can go to school—for a year or two? Kasim: (Smiling with joy at her pleasure) Yes. I am going to school myself. ZEINAB: And—afterwards? Kasim: Afterwards—we shall work together—to help “make the Truth prevail”—in Persia! ZEINAB: Oh, Kasim! Iam so happy! (With sudden reverent gratitude) I could never have imagined so lovely a pattern, for my weaving! Kasim looks up, and, for a moment, they gaze into each other's eyes, forgetting convention and custom. Kasim: (Speaking half to himself) My dream grows clearer! I had thought to pluck’ the rose. But it is better to watch it growing. At this instant Fatimah appears in the door on the balcony. Fatiman: (To Zeinab) Well—have they gone? (She moves a step or two forward and sees Kasim standing at the foot of the steps, gazing up at Zeinab. She screams.) Aie! A strange man—alone, with you! Go in! Goin! Aie! Ali enters quickly from left, followed, more slowly, by the Dervish. Aut: Hush! It is all right! This is Kasim, the betrothed of Zeinab—and she has just agreed to marry him. This little conference between them was permitted. It is a part, I understand, of the new custom. Fatiman: (In utter astonishment) Wah! (Helpless in the grip of cir- cumstances, she has a sudden impulse of common sense.) Well—the world has been upside down for a long time; if it keeps on turning, I suppose it will come right side up again, some day! . 37 This breaks the tension, and there is quiet laughter among the men. Sakineh has followed Fatimah into the balcony. Zeinab goes to her quickly and speaks rapidly but inaudibly to her. Sakineh smiles and nods, evidently much pleased. Fatimah gazes curiously at Kasim, who has joined the Dervish and Ali at center. The Dervish is saying farewell. Aut: Farewell, Hajji. You will come again? And— (he hesitates, glances at the balcony, then speaks with a little smile)—I do not see that any harm would be done if you should bring your chela with you, now and then. The Dervish smiles understandingly, nods, and turns to go out. Kasim, delighted at Ali’s words, turns to see 1f Zeinab has heard. She has, and they exchange one final glance before he follows the Dervish out, at rear. Ali accompanies the quests into the garden. They talk quietly as they go out. Zeinab runs quickly to the steps and part way down, leaning forward to catch a last glimpse of Kasim. FatimaH: (To Sakineh, with a last feeble attempt at defiance) Well— now are you satisfied? SAKINEH: (Smiling at her good-naturedly) Yes, Fatimah. Are you not satisfied ? FaTIMAH: (Surprised into admission of the truth) He is a well-favored youth—and Zeinab is happy. (She smiles fondly at her daughter.) Come, child! I go to mix that new pilaf I promised to teach you how to make. These new-fangled husbands may be willing to let you go ( to meetings and study and gad about the town, but mark my words, they like good food, as well as any man. The girls both laugh and follow Fatimah out, chatting happily together. THE END 38