Under The Volcano Page #4

I was the ingenue then.

Afraid those days are gone.

This time, I only had a character part.

We closed last week.

I see.

[ Flute:
Melancholic]

Look, his eyes are closed.

The horse knows his way home.

- Gracias.

- Gracias, gracias.

Oh, hello, hello!

Look who comes here!

My little Oedipuss.

Hello!

Oh, there you are.

- Do you think he's forgotten me?

- No, he's not forgotten you.

I never believed it - that cats are not

attached to people but to places.

I've missed you, Oedipuss.

[ Kissing ]

He's missed you too.

Senora, quegusto!

- Oh!

- Buenos dias.

- Buenos dias, Concepta.

- Como la he extranado.

Oh, I've missed you too, Concepta.

What happened to my beautiful garden,

my camellias?

It became a bit of a jungle, I'm afraid.

But look here,

just suppose for argument's sake...

that you, uh, abandoned a besieged town...

and somehow or other,

not long afterwards, you come back.

You can't well expect to invite yourself

into the same green graces...

quite the same, uh, oh...

dear old welcome here and there,

can you, hmm?

Have you come back,

or are you just visiting?

I'm here, aren't I?

Hugh! Come out here!

You'll never guess who's just popped in.

- Is Hugh here?

- Oh. Didn't I tell you?

Oh, he's been back some time.

He came straight

from the Spanish Civil War.

Been playing Florence Nightingale for me.

Hugh. Where are you?

He was quite disappointed when he got back

and, uh, discovered you'd flown the coop.

I do believe he's missed you

full as much as I.

Hugh. Where are you?

Where can the young pup be?

Hugh! An emissary calls.

The Consul of Cuckold's Haven.

Come and give the wife

a "welcome back" kiss.

Oh, I forgot. He's in Mexico City.

Be back some time today.

He'd gotten a wind of some,

uh, rumor, and he -

he chased off

like a hound after a hare.

Geoffrey. Just tell me.

I can go.

This is Hugh's home cure for alcoholism.

Strychnine.

He bribes Concepta to poison me.

- Veneno.

- Senora, eso no es verdad.

- It's dreadful.

- It is.

Uh, would you like a whiskey?

I haven't had breakfast yet.

Geoffrey?

- Geoffrey. Take it.

- What?

For God's sake, drink it.

I'm not expecting miracles.

No, no, no, no. I'll stick to the old,

uh, medicine, thank you.

[ Groans, Shudders ]

- Have you really resigned?

-Absolutely.

No more diplomacy for me.

Well, then there's nothing really

holding you here anymore.

Magic.

"He on whose heart

the dust of Mexico has lain...

will find no peace

in anyother land. "

But nothing's really holding you.

There's nothing more real than magic.

All right, Geoffrey, we can

talk about it when you're rested.

When I'm sober, you mean.

Surely you know by this time that I can't

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