Inspired by the celebrated tale by La Motte-Fouqué, Ondina (1939) is a joyful synthesis of humor and drama, textual richness and spectacle, fantasy and theatre of ideas. An unjustly forgotten work, not translated into Spanish for more than half a century.
At Zenda we present the opening pages of Ondina (Ápeiron), by Jean Giraudoux, with translation, introduction and notes by Manuel Fernández Labrada.
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Act One
Fishing cabin. Outside, a storm.
Scene One
THE OLD AUGUSTO. THE OLD EUGENIA.
Augusto.—(Peering out the window.) What could be happening out there, in this darkness?
Eugenia.—What are you so worried about? She can see in the night.
Augusto.—With this storm!
Eugenia.—As if you didn’t know that rain doesn’t wet her!
Augusto.—And now she’s singing! Might she be the one singing? I don’t recognize her voice.
Eugenia.—Who would you like it to be? We are twenty leagues from the nearest house.
Augusto.—The song seems to come as much from the center of the lake as from the top of the waterfall.
Eugenia.—It’s because she is there as much at the center of the lake as at the top of the waterfall.
Augusto.—You mock me! Is it that at her age you too used to laugh at streams overflowing their banks?
Eugenia.—I tried it once, and they caught me by the feet. I attempted once what she does a thousand times a day: jumping over chasms, gathering the cascades in a goblet… Ah, I recall the time I wished to walk on water!
Augusto.—We are too weak with her, Eugenia. A fifteen-year-old girl cannot roam the forest at this hour. I say it seriously. She only agrees to darn her clothes atop the crags, to recite her prayers with her head beneath the water… What would have become of us if you had received the same education?
Eugenia.—Doesn’t she help with the tasks around the house?
Augusto.—There would be much to say about that.
Eugenia.—What do you want then? Doesn’t she wash the dishes? Doesn’t she polish the shoes?
Augusto.—Precisely: I know nothing of any of that!
Eugenia.—Isn’t this dish clean?
Augusto.—That’s not the problem. I’ve never seen her wash or shine anything. And you never have either!
Eugenia.—She prefers to work outside.
Augusto.—Yes, yes… But it makes no difference whether it’s three dishes or a dozen, a pair of shoes or three pairs. She spends the same amount of time on everything. Barely a minute passes and she’s back. The cloth remains unused, the wax untouched. Yet everything is spotless and gleaming. And that tale of the gold dishes… Have you ever deduced anything from it? And her hands are never dirty! Do you know what she did today?
Eugenia.—During these fifteen years, has she ever done a day’s work that would be expected of her?
Augusto.—She raised the hatch of the nursery and the trout she had kept since spring managed to escape. I could only catch one for dinner. (The window opens with a sudden jerk.) What’s happening now?
Eugenia.—You can see it: it’s the wind.
Augusto.—I tell you it is her! And so long as she does not perform her little play, with those heads that always peek out the window on stormy nights! That of the old, gray-haired man fills me with shivers…
Eugenia.—As for me, I much prefer the one with the pearl-adorned woman… Close the window if you’re afraid!
A head of an old man, crowned and with dripping beard, appears in the window gap, lit by a flash of lightning.
Cabeza de viejo.—Too late, Augusto!
Augusto.—You’ll see what late is, Ondina!
The window closes, but opens again with a start. A charming head of a nyad appears, illuminated by another flash of lightning.
Cabeza de Náyade.—Good night, dear Eugenia! (Disappears.)
Eugenia.—Ondina, your father is not at all pleased with you. Return!
Augusto.—Enter at once, Ondina! I will count to three… If by three you have not obeyed, I will bolt the lock. And you’ll sleep out in the open!
A thunder.
Eugenia.—Are you joking?
Augusto.—You’ll see if I’m joking! Ondina, to one!
A thunder.
Eugenia.—Those thunderclaps at the end of your sentences are tiresome.
Augusto.—Am I to blame?
Eugenia.—Hurry before the next one roars. Everyone knows you can count to three!
Augusto.—Ondina, to two!
A thunder.
Eugenia.—You are insufferable!
Augusto.—Ondina, to three!
No thunder is heard.
Eugenia.—(Awaiting the thunder.) End it, end it at once, my poor Augusto!
Augusto.—I have finished. (Bolts the door.) There! Dinner will at least be in peace.
The door flies open. Augusto and Eugenia are drawn by the noise. A knight in armor appears on the threshold.
[…]
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Author: Jean Giraudoux. Title: Ondina. Translation: Manuel Fernández Labrada. Publisher: Ápeiron. Sales: All your books.