Fine Sweet Words Like The Scent Of Apples

A lovely morning in Neptun. Eleven o'clock. Now there are crowds on the beach.

Albertine has revealed that her aunt Daniel is really her cousin, Gilberte.

They are sharing a white plastic lounge and umbrella, next to the duchess, who is reading.

Gilberte: I couldn't keep it up any longer.

Albertine: Never mind. It's okay.

Proust: No, it isn't.

Albertine: Why not? It was funny. Look, Arthur thinks it was funny.

Arthur: I'm not laughing. I'm grimacing.

Gilberte: Are you in pain?

Arthur: I think there's still glass in my knees.

Proust: Why is it that every time I try to explain why I am not satisfied with an explanation everyone at once turns their attention to Arthur, who never requires the least explanation for anything.

Arthur: I usually know why things happen.

Duchess (to herself): Sharp boy.

Albertine: Marcel, what is the trouble?

Proust: There remains an unresolved issue. Who is the original Daniel?

Duchess (mutters): A solver of riddles, if I remember my Old Testament.

Albertine: Why do you even think there was one?

Gilberte: I know why.

Albertine: Shut UP, Gilberte.

Arthur: Was he your boyfriend?

Gilberte : There were two of them They were both our boyfriend.

Proust: I hope your syntax is at fault, and not your morality.

Gilberte : Hoo! Listen to him!

Duchess: I'm trying to READ, here, young people.

Albertine: Sorry.

Duchess: Why don't you all go for a swim.

Arthur: We're waiting for our aunt, the duchess, to pay the five euros.

Duchess: Haven't you paid for your seat?

Arthur: We haven't brought any money.

Duchess: I couldn't help overhearing that you have glass in your knees. Would you like me to take a look? I was a revolutionary and Sinn Féin politician, so I know about glass in the knees and anywhere else you might care to mention.

Arthur: Or, you could pay the five euros.

Duchess: There is something about you, young man. Are you a poet? All right. Here is five euros.

Proust: Here we go.....watch it go straight in his pocket.

Duchess: You are a rude sort of person.

Proust: And you are strange sort of duchess.

Duchess: True, that is only what the ticket man calls me. My name is Countess Constance Markiewicz. I am a countess.

Gilberte: Are you Polish?

Albertine: She was in Sinn Féin. She must be Irish.

Constance: Well yes, in a manner of speaking. By the way, is that gentleman known to you? He is gesticulating.

Arthur: It's Gaius.

( Gaius wheels his bike over).

Gaius: I imagine you're surprised to see me. For that you can blame the spider.

Daniel O'Connell: Blame the Liberator!

Constance: Who said that?

Daniel O'Connell: Me!

Constance: Oh my lord, a spider! Why isn't there a lid on its bottle?

Albertine: Are you afraid of spiders?

Constance: Of course not!

Gaius: You must be Albertine's aunt. Pleased to meet you. Daniel O'Connell, my spider, has many questions to ask you, concerning his name sake.

Constance: I'm not this young woman's aunt.

Proust: She is an imposter, and not even a duchess.

Constance: What have I done? You are the mad ones. But I do know something of Daniel O'Connell, the Liberator. How could I not?

Daniel O'Connell: Was he a great man?

Constance: He was indeed. It was said that what he achieved was 'not with guns but with fine sweet words, like the scent of apples'.

Daniel O'Connell: So, by using his mouth. I thought so.