[A French prison cell. Death row. 1968. The illustrations of Jean Cocteau’s Holy Terrors have long been engraved into the cell’s stone walls. MAURICE stands in front of a small, cracked mirror hung indifferently. CASSIEL is stationed opposite him and enshrined with the wings of an angel. He wears a long gray wool coat and looks like Albert Camus. There is no telling how long the two of them have been here.]

CASSIEL

To look in the mirror is to watch yourself think . . .what are you thinking, friend?

MAURICE

[As if in a trance:] I am thinking I have the right to be afraid, but I am thinking not to think about it.

CASSIEL

You must feel fear; You have to ride it.

MAURICE

I suppose. [He turns towards CASSIEL:] Who are you? [Beat. No answer:] How did you get in here?

CASSIEL

You are alive. I am not. What else is there to explain?

MAURICE

You’re a ghost?

CASSIEL

An angel.

MAURICE

[Silence:] Am I going to die?

CASSIEL

I am not permitted to discuss-

MAURICE

I’m afraid.

CASSIEL

[Silence:] You should be.

MAURICE

[Silence:] How much time do I have left before it starts?

CASSIEL

Two minutes.

MAURICE

And if you’re my angel, you’ll be there with me the whole time?

CASSIEL

I will. In the old world and through the next.

MAURICE

In the old world. [He laughs sadly:] I lived in Paris . . . I suppose you were with me then.

CASSIEL

When you came to Paris you had no money. I remember; I was there.

MAURICE

In the old world . . .

CASSIEL

Yes.

[From a distance, the sound of church

bells. Four times. Slow. With each

chime CASSIEL mystically evaporates

from view until MAURICE is alone in

his cell. MAURICE doesn’t notice

until-]

MAURICE

He’s gone . . . Are you still . . .

VOICE OF CASSIEL

I can’t stay. He is coming . . .

MAURICE

For what? I don’t want to-

VOICE OF CASSIEL

Not yet death, no. I shouldn’t tell you this. Not yet, but soon. He will reveal himself to you; He is comfort, conduit and message.

MAURICE

What are you talking about, I . . .

VOICE OF CASSIEL

Tell him the truth.

[Enter FATHER GABRIEL, led by a prison

official and played by the same actor as CASSIEL. Once in the cell, he stations himself on a small wooden stool, holding a bible.]

FATHER GABRIEL

Good morning, child . . . you haven’t slept?

[Silence.]

What do you want?

MAURICE

[In a whisper:] I’m not sure I know what you mean.

FATHER GABRIEL

I’m sure you do . . . I’ll ask again . . . before you wrestle with the hereafter, what do you want from me?

MAURICE

[Beat:] No judgement, no guilt.

FATHER GABRIEL

The destination is Judgement, child-

MAURICE

I’m not religious-

FATHER GABRIEL

Let me finish . . . all will be judged based on their actions in life, determining some kind of fate. You, child, already have been. I suppose it won’t be much different . . . your actions in life. If you’re religious or not, you still have life in you yet. You can never make the final decision, for that isn’t up to you to make - In a way, it’s a gift - But in this moment in your life the only judgement to overcome is that of the flesh. That of the old world, not the new.

MAURICE

What about guilt?

FATHER GABRIEL

What about it?

MAURICE

I don’t feel it.

FATHER GABRIEL

And you think you should?

MAURICE

Yes.

FATHER GABRIEL

[Beat:] God has put within us an inner sense of right and wrong-

MAURICE

I’m not religious-

FATHER GABRIEL

Then do you have a better answer?

[Silence.]

It’s bleak . . . to think nobody knows what causes it. And nobody knows how to cure it.

MAURICE

I know.

[Silence.]

FATHER GABRIEL

Is that all you want?

MAURICE

I’m sorry?

FATHER GABRIEL

From me. No judgement, no guilt.

MAURICE

Yes.

FATHER GABRIEL

Why do you need it?

MAURICE

What?

FATHER GABRIEL

Why do you need-

MAURICE

I don’t know-

FATHER GABRIEL

If you aren’t religious-

MAURICE

I’m not-

FATHER GABRIEL

Right, so why do you need it?

[Silence.]

Few people know this and I’m telling you this only because . . . I’m not afraid of judgement. What can judgement bring that I haven’t already experienced? I’ve heard a lot. Listen to me, my child, you must do this. You must absolve yourself. Judgement comes from you, not at you. You must confess. I tell you this, life is full of fear, you must feel it. Save yourself. Whatever pulls on you, fears you, threatens you . . . is trying to tell you something. Listen. Don’t be afraid. People can be so afraid, almost naked. It’s coming from you, my child, and truth is your only escape. If not told to me, tell it to yourself.

[First bell toll.]

I must go. May the true Shepherd acknowledge you as one of his flock.

[Second bell toll. MAURICE is alone

now.]

MAURICE

In the old world, I lived in Paris. For a time, I hung around with two prostitutes and slept between four in the morning and four in the afternoon. Lived by my wits . . . mostly I begged, maybe I stole if I needed a métro ticket. For me, Paris never lived up to its romantic reputation. I was 32 and had just arrived from Hyde Park and was staying with a friend of a friend - a member of the French student demonstrations who draped himself in a Rothko coat. I had nothing to do so naturally I became caught up in the month-long mini revolution really just so I could tail them and frequent a small bistro tucked away at the back of the antique stalls. They’d buy me a cognac because I had no money then.

[Third bell toll. MAURICE is no longer in his cell. Dark.]

A chance visit to La Coupole in Montparnasse changed my life. I found myself squeezed between my company of students and some haute decor in Parisian style . . . wood, leather seats, brass fittings, a mirror. Through its reflection stood this dark-haired girl from Florence, she wore this black knit dress like Piaf and dangled a cigarette out of the corner of her crooked smile. We started up a conversation but all I wanted to do was rip off her clothes and have her right then in front of my friends. She asked me for a light, told me her name was Cléo, and we sat in a booth and talked. In the morning it started to rain, and she was renting this studio apartment nearby, so I offered to walk her home. Outside, the black around her eyes began to melt down her face. I looked at her. I fell in love with her.

[Fourth bell toll. The prison officer reappears out of the darkness alongside a hauntingly plain electric chair. He straps

MAURICE into it. MAURICE, too focused on his confession, doesn’t seem to fear the contraption.]

For months and months, I was with Cléo, although she never let me go to bed with her. I’d sit in her apartment and play her records while she got ready for what I now know to be affairs. She wouldn’t take her clothes off in front of me to change, but I knew her body . . . every inch. I loved her, but Cléo had many lovers and when I found out I tried to hide my jealousy. Several months ago, she began seeing this American writer and I knew I had to do something. Cléo and her writer went to see a film, so I went too and sat six rows behind them. I had no money and snuck in, so the attendant went out to

MAURICE (cont.)

call the cops. I stayed quiet as they kissed, but I couldn’t cool myself as I watched the writer crawl onto the floor and grasp her thighs . . . as she threw her head back with pleasure, I started to beat on him, and I couldn’t stop beating on him even when I saw the red on my hands. Cléo was screaming and I was covered in the writer’s blood when the film attendant and several police officers pulled me off his dead body.

[Silence.]

I showed no remorse so . . . conviction for life and twenty-two years . . . life.

[Fifth bell tolls. The sound of

electric whirring. CASSIEL, his

wings outstretched, looms over

MAURICE.]

I’m afraid.

[Blackout. The sound of an electric shock, overwhelming loud. A single, glorious light on CASSIEL.]

CASSIEL

He knows.

[Blackout.]

[End of Play.]