Donkey Skin (Peau d'âne)

DONKEY SKIN

Based on the Fairy Tale by Charles Perrault

Once upon a time there was a king so great,

so loved by his people and so respected by neighboring kingdoms

that he was the happiest of monarchs.

And his happiness was even greater

for having chosen a beautiful and virtuous wife.

The couple lived in perfect harmony.

They had a daughter of such grace and charm

that they never regretted having but one child.

Their palace was a marvel of taste and abundance.

The buildings were magnificent,

and the vast stables were filled with the most handsome steeds.

But what most surprised visitors

was a donkey displayed in the most prominent place.

This iniquity may surprise you.

but when you learn of the creature’s rare ability,

you will agree that this honor was its due.

However, the vicissitudes of life fall on kings as well,

and the greatest good is always mixed with misfortune.

The queen was suddenly stricken with a cruel malady,

and neither the physicians well-versed in Greek

nor the quacks in vogue could do aught for her.

Allow me, before I die, to make one request.

If you should wish to remarry –

No, my dearest queen. I would never think of it.

Ask instead that I follow you.

Our love says I can believe you,

but the state demands heirs.

I gave you only a daughter.

Your advisors will demand a son in your image.

Hush.

Listen to me.

Swear by the love you bear me

to marry again only when you’ve found

a woman more beautiful than myself.

Impossible!

Swear it so that I may die content.

I swear it.

The queen is dead!

Come, Father.

Leave me, child.

I never wish to see you again.

The royal cabinet!

Speak.

We think it is bad for you to remain alone –

and bad for the state.

Solitude is unhealthy for kings. It is time you remarried.

Why do you always ask the impossible?

The state needs a male heir for its peace and tranquility.

The kingdom is at peace and does not desire war.

Your advisors can but approve of your policy,

but we are supposed to advise you as well.

I understand your reasons. I can remarry,

but I swore to the queen to wed only a princess

more beautiful than she.

- That was a vain promise. - How so?

A queen’s beauty matters little provided she’s virtuous and fertile.

I do not agree,

and I will not break my promise.

Seek in neighboring kingdoms

a princess who might suit me.

I wish but to please.

The prime minister!

Now the trouble begins.

You’re burning me!

I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.

Well?

Two of our messengers have brought us

some charming portraits.

If they’re like the others, no, thank you.

Those were so badly done that you couldn’t tell

whether the girl was pretty or stupid.

Let me see.

This one’s father has the largest kingdom you could –

Come now! Let me see!

She’s hideous!

Her father would give you half his land –

Let him keep it all.

Would you have an ugly woman on my arm?

This one is no youth,

but her fortune exceeds by far –

The number of her years!

Sadness.

Boredom.

Pride.

Hypocrisy.

They’re all one-eyed or hunchbacks

or perhaps deaf.

Have fairy-tale princesses

all disappeared?

There is this one.

Let me see.

Good God, she’s lovely!

You kept her a secret, you traitor.

How sweet! How pure!

How graceful!

Look at the line of that shoulder.

Who is she?

Your daughter, Sire.

Love is worn around the neck

The heart is mad

Four arms entwined

The soul is glad

Like a scarf woven of white wool

Love forms a knot

Love, love

Has made me mad

Love often makes a clamor

In youth

It cries, it stings

It swears false oaths

It makes those lovers suffer

Who refuse to turn the page

Love, love

Is never wise

How lovely she is!

Lovelier than the queen, Sire,

and much more charming and intelligent.

When it has lived too long

With contented heart

Love, at the slightest snag

Frays

Caught on the nail of memory

Love dies in time

Love, love

I love you so!

Love, love

I love you so!

Your father, the king, has sent for you.

Love, love, I love you so!

You sent for me, Father?

Does that surprise you?

You’ve refused to see me since my mother’s death.

Did that hurt you?

- Yes, Father. - I am sorry.

Solitude has been my sole companion.

I have decided that that must end.

Arise, dear daughter.

I was listening to you.

Your singing enchanted me.

If your soul is sensitive to music,

perhaps you do not dislike poetry either.

I know little poetry, but I enjoy it.

I have some poems from the future.

The ancients wrote well,

but the poets of tomorrow

may delight you more.

“Listening to your fairy lute,

trees and stones follow you, Orpheus,

letting you shape them as you choose.

Clio, the barmaid,

Calliope phoning in a scoop...

Urania turning on the gaslights

that paint the trees from below.”

Do you like it?

It’s troubling.

Your godmother, the lilac fairy, gave it to me.

Her knowledge of the future amazes me.

Listen to this one. It suits the moment so well.

“The ring is slipped on the finger

after a kiss seals our vows.

What our lips murmured

is in the ring on the finger.

Weave roses through your hair.”

I love you, my daughter, and wish to marry you.

Poetry deranges you, Father.

I beg you to stop.

- Do you love me? - Very much.

Very much is not enough.

Allow me to go, Father. I feel weary and troubled.

Be that as it may, I have decided to marry you,

and marry you I will.

Ask not such a crime of me. Let me think on it.

I give you until tomorrow.

You are wise and learned.

Your counsel has never led me astray.

I love the princess and wish to marry her.

Is mine a sinful love?

Is the princess fond of Your Majesty?

She says she loves me very much,

yet she’s confused.

Do you see what I mean?

The princess is too young to understand

the stirrings of her heart.

It’s written here

that all little girls who are asked,

“Whom do you wish to marry when you grow up?”

reply without fail, “I want to marry Daddy.”

Do you have a daughter?

Alas, no.

But if I did,

I would certainly marry her.

You are the wisest of the wise.

I shall marry the princess.

You at this hour!

You know I hate to be taken unawares.

Forgive me, godmother, but it’s terribly urgent.

Come now.

Don’t cry, child.