The Playwright

Joseph's life afterward had indeed been as hard as Armand had predicted. Every day, all he had to live on was black bread and cold water. This went on for about two months, and Joseph succeeded in making himself look more like a bamboo pole.

"Joseph, there's a troupe preparing a comedy called The Governor of the Island. Well, the story was adapted from Don Quixote. I think your figure would be perfect for playing the knight Don Quixote in it," Armand said with a grin.

"Damn it!" Joseph said. "Don Quixote definitely isn't the lead in this play, is he? The lead should be Sancho."

At that, he looked Armand up and down, then said, "I have to say, you'd need to put in a lot of effort to play the lead."

"Who said I was going to play the lead? How could that be?" Armand said. "Sancho's a short, fat man, and I may be a tiny bit shorter than you, but neither short nor fat has anything to do with me. Joseph, is something wrong with your brain or your eyes? Or have you gotten so completely into character that you can see giants where there are windmills?"

Joseph burst out laughing. "Ah, Armand, why is your mind so rigid? Isn't a comedy a comedy precisely because it's absurd? You have to understand, Armand: the world is absurd, and life is painful. My friend, that is the truth of the world.

"Long ago, King Midas searched for a long time in the forest for the wine god's companion, the wise Silenus, but couldn't find him. When Silenus finally fell into his hands, the king asked him, 'What is the best and most wonderful thing for a human being?' The god sat as if struck dumb and said nothing. When the king pressed him, he finally answered with a loud laugh: 'Wretched creature, born to live but a day, child of chance and sorrow, why force me to say what it would be best for you not to hear? The best thing in the world is something you can never have—that is, never to be born, never to exist, to be nothing. But the next best thing is still within your reach: hurry up and die!'

"What a dreadful story. When we lift the fog shrouding lofty Mount Olympus and lay its foundations bare before our eyes, what do we see? We find ourselves face to face with the absolute terror of nature's violence, with the merciless fate that rules all knowledge, with the eagle tormenting Prometheus, that great lover of humankind, with the terrible fate of wise Oedipus, and with the curse of the House of Atreus that drove Orestes to murder his mother. Behind the sacred majesty of the Greek gods, we see that what lurks is the terrifying Titans. To go on living, the sensitive Greeks had to create a dream to shield them from the terror of reality. Just as Apollo held aloft Medusa's head, driving all kinds of terrifying monsters away, comedy and all the other arts are that dream.

"A dream can be absurd; indeed, it has to be absurd. Only the terrifying Medusa can scare off the other terrifying specters. So why are you so hung up on Sancho being a short, fat man?"

"You despicable fellow, Joseph," Armand said. "You're just using your learning to pull the wool over my eyes. You've got my head spinning. What you say does seem to make some sense, but the audience wants a sweet dream, not a nightmare that gives them a fright. I don't think they'd accept a Sancho as tall and handsome as me."

"Indeed, Sancho's appearance and his wisdom make for an amusing contrast, and that contrast delights the audience. If you simply went on stage as you are, that contrast would be lost. But my friend, have you forgotten that there's a way to turn a Graeae—those three hideous gray witches from Greek myth who shared one eye and one tooth—into Helen, and yet turn Helen into a Graeae?" Joseph said with a laugh.

"You mean makeup, don't you? But makeup can only change a person's face. How could it make a tall man short?" Armand asked, puzzled.

"How could there be no way? The world never lacks solutions to problems; it only lacks clever minds capable of thinking them up." As he spoke, Joseph picked up a pencil and a sheet of scratch paper covered in math problems from the table beside him.

"Look, if we use the method for making a whale-bone skirt, we can make a..." Joseph said as he began to draw on the paper.

"What's this..." Armand stared, eyes wide. "Huh, that really might work. But it'll be exhausting for the actor."

"It'll be a little challenging, but dwarves who can act are hard to find. Actors who can act and endure hardship, on the other hand, are easy to find, aren't they?" Joseph glanced at Armand. "Of course, a fellow like you, who loves art but lacks the spirit to sacrifice for it, probably couldn't stand such hardship. There's another advantage, too: when the play ends and the actors come out to take their bows, the actor playing the dwarf can suddenly stand up straight. The effect will be hilarious."

"Heh, heh..." Armand laughed as he tucked the sheet Joseph had drawn on into his pocket. "Joseph, you should go to Britain and patent this design. Though there'd be no point, since France doesn't recognize British patents, and there's no patent legislation in France."

"That's why Britain is ahead of France in technological invention," Joseph replied.

Two days passed after that conversation. Then Armand came to see Joseph again.

"Joseph, that idea of yours last time was great. Especially that final moment during the curtain call—the whole place erupted in laughter. It worked perfectly. I think you could even become a playwright. You know, the plays by the Greeks and Romans are very good, but a lot of them are too old and don't quite suit the stage today. The works from the Renaissance, which came a little later, are the same. And even the works of modern writers often imitate the ancients so closely that they can't really be staged without revisions. That's why so many troupes need a playwright.

"Most playwrights are ordinary actors by background. They understand the stage, but their grasp of art is too limited. So many troupes, in addition to having a playwright who's a former actor, also hire one with a good artistic sensibility, so the two can work together. For instance, the Dragon and Rose Troupe, which performed The Governor of the Island last time, is now hoping to hire a playwright like that. Besides, a lot of artists got their start in a position like this.

"At first, they asked me to write for them. But you know, I'm busy, and you're the one who needs money right now. Still, Joseph, my friend, do you have the energy and time to take on this job?"

"Ah, thank you so much, my friend," Joseph said gratefully. "As for energy and time, my friend, they're like water in a sponge. If you squeeze hard enough, you can always get some out."

"Joseph, you know one of the interesting things about talking with you is that you always come out with particularly philosophical things. You're actually a very interesting person. If you didn't deliberately put on that priestly air, the girls would certainly favor you. Of course, you might still come in a little behind me, but you'd definitely beat Lucien. Look, Lucien's already got a mistress."

"Lucien's got a mistress now?" The news surprised Joseph. Lucien's family had a fair bit of money, but he had very little he could actually spend, and his father certainly didn't seem like the sort to support him keeping a mistress.

"Of course," Armand said, his eyes shining. "Just now, near the Church of Saint Genevieve, I ran into Lucien's new coat, his new hat, and his shiny new shoes, with Lucien wrapped up inside them. He was holding a bouquet and looking like a blockhead. He didn't even hear me greet him. The look on his face—nervous and full of anticipation—made him seem as if he were heading to defend a dissertation and a general marching off to battle at the same time. Ah, I know that expression well—I've seen it plenty. I've given that state a biological name: 'being in heat.' And Lucien is in that state now. I'm sure he's got a little mistress. No doubt about it!"

"From the way you're talking, you haven't confirmed it?" Joseph said. "That doesn't sound like you. Didn't you sneak after Lucien to see what kind of girl could charm him so completely?"

"Of course I followed him. I thought that fellow would go to the little garden behind the church to meet his sweetheart. At the time, I even thought, 'That guy really knows how to pick a place.' But then he got into a public carriage over there, and..."

"And then you lost him, right?" Joseph said with a laugh.

"Exactly. But I'll find out what kind of little enchantress could turn our Lucien into that. Hahaha..." Armand laughed.

"Oh, right. Mr. Thenardier, the head of the Dragon and Rose Troupe, would like to meet you and buy you a cup of coffee. When would you have time?"

"How about Sunday afternoon? I don't have anything going on then," Joseph replied.

"Good. I'll arrange a time with Mr. Thenardier, then. Any preference for the location?"

"Anywhere is fine," Joseph replied.