Quick, you lazy devils! By the Lord’s blood,
you’re dragging it like a corpse,
the Infanta’s birthday table.
Over here! Now decorate it.
It will be decked out like a maiden on her wedding night.
The Infanta’s birthday table!
Do you mind!
The nicest present is from Don Estoban.
He’s giving her a prayer book with a blank page for self-reflection.
How lovely this soft, delicate lace is,
and this cross of topaz and ivory.
This incense has come
from the far north.
Oh, I’d love to be the Infanta!
She wants to be the Infanta!
Infanta Ghita!
And if you were the Infanta, what would you do?
People who are joyless and ugly,
I’d make them happy with my love.
You lazy sluts!
Get back to work!
Put those things in order and decorate the table.
Separate the fabrics from the jewels.
It will soon be time for the congratulations.
Look at this dainty puppet.
- How nice! - How sweet!
The dress is brocade.
The eyes are blue, and the head has got real women’s hair.
Come on, time won’t stand still for you!
The grass is warm in the sunshine.
Hey, Ceresita, catch the ball!
It’s so nice playing in the soft grass.
Careful about the flowers, they’re so beautiful!
Forget about the ball.
Bring flowers instead.
Let’s crown the Infanta
with a May garland
of young flowers.
- An armful of flowers! - What will the gardener say?
The dying flowers offer their congratulations on this day!
Let’s dance on the meadow in the sunshine!
Infanta, you should be our princess.
Your locks blow...
...as you dance.
Infanta,
you’re beautiful,
your shoulder is cool,
you’re icily slender,
your sparkling hair is a web of rays.
Your shoulder is cool,
your sparkling hair is a web of rays.
We say thank you
for all your loveliness.
Infanta,
we’re so fond of you.
Rejoice!
Let’s dance
in the sunshine.
Look, they smarten up the presentation table.
- Come on, now. - Watch out, the Infanta is trying to enter.
Let me see my lovely presents!
No, Infanta, no! It’s supposed to be a surprise.
- Most gracious Infanta! - Don Estoban!
A dragon guarding the golden treasure!
- It’s not time for the reception yet. - Estoban, shoo away the chamber maids!
Etiquette forbids you to inspect the presents before it’s time, Infanta.
Block the entrance, quick!
They want to look at the presents.
Curiosity is killing us,
- we are so curious, Don Estoban! - They’re about to charge up the stairs.
Leave us in peace, Infanta.
Ah, my Ghita is there, too.
Just you wait, my Ghita. I’ll force my way past you.
Just you wait. You shall not pass!
We’ll bite you and beat you.
- We won’t give way. - Follow me!
Help! Rebellion! My position, my reputation!
- I’ll be dismissed. - Trying to run away?
We won’t give way, you won’t see a thing!
- We won’t give way! - We’ll show you.
- Give way! You won’t see a thing! - Hit them!
- We’ve won, - They’re giving way!
- we’ve broken through! - Anyone brave, gather round me!
Let’s make for the table!
How lovely this soft, delicate lace is!
And this cross of topaz and ivory.
We have to force them back into the garden.
Oh look, a coronet of gold and rubies!
We’ll advance on them
and attack again. Come, sisters, come!
We’re not afraid. We’ll advance on them again.
Peace! Concord! Infanta, mercy.
I’ll lose my daily bread. The King will be furious,
the ceremony is sacrosanct!
I beg you, go into the garden, Infanta!
Since he asks so charmingly, let’s obey the faithful servant.
Follow me into the garden, sisters!
Let’s dance on the meadow in the sunshine!
Infanta, you should be our princess.
I’ll give the Madonna a hundred candles
for saving me from danger!
Those mad girls have wrecked everything.
Down to work, quick. Time won’t stand still!
We’re already hard at work.
But you shall tell us.
Tell us, Don Estoban,
what are the best presents?
A golden rose with gemstone thorns
from His Holiness the Pope.
>From His Most Christian Majesty
a costume of a thousand pearls.
Two magnificent horses from the Emperor.
But the finest thing...
The finest thing?
The finest thing is horrid!
The finest thing, horrid?
Tell us what it is!
We’ve heard all sorts of rumours.
The Sultan has sent a dwarf...
...one of cruel nature’s amusements.
He limps;
he has fiery bristles for hair.
His head squats between shoulders that are too high.
And he is bent over by the weight of a hump.
He’s small and deformed.
He may be but twenty years old,
or as old as the sun.
In that distant land he has a reputation as a singer.
- How odd. - A dwarf!
What a peculiar gift.
But the strangest thing is yet to come:
he doesn’t know how ugly he is.
He thinks he’s noble and acts like a knight.
He has never seen himself in a mirror.
Never seen himself in a mirror?
He takes our laughter to be friendliness, as everyone laughs when they see him
with his gallant poses and ever so tragic songs.
He is a consummate fool!
That will be amusing!
Now go! The mirrors still have to be covered.
Honest reflections would show him the truth.
We can’t have that yet. The fool must remain foolish,
and truth for the poor fool would mean death.
Go and cover them.
It’s time for the congratulations.
The Sultan gives the Infanta a gift from a distant realm,
a knight handsome and well proportioned like Narcissus.
Apollo smiles on him as a singer through almighty music
that hallows and transfigures everything,
bestowing beauty of tone on his poet’s words,
and infusing his own beauty into songs
that are as radiant as himself.
Will the gracious Infanta deign
to receive this sublime hero?
What did Don Estoban say?
He called him well proportioned! A hero! But look, a monster!
I’ve seen nothing worse! Look, he’s listening!
He doesn’t laugh like other fools.
What a sight! He doesn’t reflect the ridicule back on us.
See that proud face!
His dignified walk!
Those suave glances!
What a marvellous man!
My Prince, the lady wishes to speak to you.
Where is the Princess?
I see women that are very beautiful,
and one that is more
than beautiful.
Princesses are earthly.
Where is the Princess?
In front of you.
I bid the noble knight from a distant land welcome.
Greetings.
I hear your poetry surpasses your speech.
Bring the lute!
Would you care to sing?
Yes, I will sing,
because I have reached my destination and behold the Princess.
You speak our language?
As you hear.
A Spaniard held me captive on his ship for ten years.
I saw seas, distant coasts, paradises.
Till he sold me for gold to the Sultan.
- You have no homeland? - No.
Only a childhood that has faded away.
People smile at me in goodness,
wherever I go.
God has given me all love...
But I’ve never seen eyes that shine like yours.
Pardon me, the lute.
We request a joyous song.
A joyous song?
“Drink, friends, and strike the harps!”
“Pleasure is wide and narrow...”
No, no! Princess!
I’ve never seen a fool
- that’s so serious. - So serious it’s laughable!
- It’s priceless, the way he looks at me! - His loving gazes!
- What do you think of the gift? - He’s staging a fine comedy for us.
He wants to make fun of us.
You won’t sing, my Prince? Perhaps a flogging will help!
Are you mad, boy? I’ll kill you!
Don Estoban!
Forgive him, my friend. Please, sing!
The petals of joyous singing have blown away in the storm.
I stammer,
because you are a song that God has sung,
Princess.
Melancholy weeps.
Then sing a sad song, my Prince,
like the sun’s lament as it dies in the sea.
Girl, take the blood orange
that has ripened in my garden.
Take it!
I am poor; my garden only
has one small tree. Take this blood orange
that ripened on it.
The girl has a proud, hard laugh.
She takes a silver needle from her soft hair
and stabs his blood orange woundingly, laughingly, in the dust.
Girl,
your laughter and your needle
did not pierce the blood orange.
The sharp needle and sharp laughter instead pierced me!
Behold, I die,
for the bleeding orange was my heart.
- Did you hear that? - He sang something about love.
- It sounded like dying. - How amusing!
You should give these geese a fright.
Tell him he should marry one of these larvae.
- Marry one of them! Yes, I will! - He’s good enough for the Mass.
Quiet!
You are a gifted singer, my Prince.
We’ve heard nothing like it.
I wish to bind you to this court.
Choose one of the ladies as a Christian bride.
- Have mercy, Infanta! - Out of the question! That’s going too far.
I’d rather marry Satan.
- I’m engaged! - Me too! - Religion and morality!
- I’d rather marry Satan. - Protest and veto!
Mercy, Infanta, we’re good-looking!
Even if the most blessed women of paradise were here,
I’m so blinded by a blazing torch;
if all love were in these vessels,
and you spelled my death:
I would choose you, Princess!
What was that?
- The Infanta? - Oh, the handsome man spurns us...
Ghita, he doesn’t know! See, he’s smiling.
He’s pleased because we’re laughing.
- Yes, I’m blinded by a blazing torch. - I almost feel sorry for him.
Even if you spelled death for me, I’d choose only you, Princess!
I must speak to him, alone.
Oh, how enviable the woman he chose to be his wife.
Be quiet!
I thank the knight for his courtesy.
We’d like to talk a little.
Leave me, ladies, Don Estoban.
But gracious Infanta!
I don’t want to be disturbed!
Come and get me later for the dancing!
Why does my friend run away?
There’s something dangerous in your eyes. Pardon me.
My soul feels...
I don’t know what.
How bright...
It’s the echo of your song, which was beautiful
like a dark shadow in a tapestry of coloured silk.
Come!
Let’s crouch on these steps
and wait till the garden exudes tranquillity.
Shall we?
My will has fled and hidden like a swallow in a storm.
I feel myself waiting, beside you, without knowing what for.
Speak to me.
I dreamed a quantity of songs, but they’re gone.
Scattered before something more than reverie.
I only know three things now.
An old house in which my mother died,
a ten-year long sea
and you.
But let me make up a romance for you.
A rock tomb, and you, guarded by a dragon.
Then me and a fiery steed
from battles and hunting at the royal court.
I hear this little-told tale.
And armed with God and my spear, I go over footbridges and ravines,
to free you, glorious hero that I am!
Glorious hero that you are...
I’ll carry on with the song:
The dragon is dead, and the man who freed me
takes my hand and enters the city in triumph!
Madrid in wild celebration,
flags flying, kerchiefs waving,
and all spring’s flowers,
strewn at your feet,
fragrant flowers for the young hero
that rescued me from my dire plight.
And in the sunlight your armour has a liquid gleam,
and you are strong and beautiful like Donatello’s David!
A king greets Infanta Klara
and her husband Don Adonis!
No!
I’m of a different kind, barely even earthly.
Where I tread,
sorrow flees.
I must exude peace
and good cheer,
the benevolence of a foreign world.
Everyone that sees me laughs:
people are glad.
I don’t want to be your husband.
I just want to lie before the steps of your majesty.
So people are glad at the sight of me
and no dismal things trouble you.
Yes, I must spread peace,
because everyone who sees me smiles.
How sweet! You wish to be my herald.
Always with me, like my green parakeet
or my slender whippet,
so then I may tell you that I love you!
That you love me, Princess...
Your soul doesn’t know what your mouth utters.
I never asked you to, Princess,
never even dared!
I don’t know what love is...
Though if love be fear, Princess,
then I love you.
Here’s what you must do if you love:
you must ride and hunt with me,
and send the falcon after the gentle doves.
You must not grow weary in the tournament with Don Alvarez, who’s very strong.
And then, come evening, when the big candelabras burn,
you must carry the train of my dress, which is very heavy.
You must compose lovesick verses,
which Don Alvarez may then sing.
You must be very beautiful if you love me.
For I love holy beauty.
And if you serve it, you serve me!
It may be that a god enlightens me
and I hate you because you’re ugly.
No, you love me! You alone didn’t smile when I entered.
Then you laughed differently to the others.
I thank you for that strange laughter.
Now I know I love you!
You’re as beautiful as a harp in the night,
as acacia flowers scattered by the wind.
Your eyes, those veiling eyes,
with irises that engulf the whites,
your veiling eyes
are full of yearning.
Why tell me that? I know I’m beautiful,
just as you know what you’re like.
What I’m like? I don’t know that.
You don’t know?
You tell me!
You are...
- You love me! - Love you?
- Now I know you love me! - Maybe I hate you,
- Your eyes and your strange laughter, - and you think it’s love.
- that strange laughter, betray your love. - If you knew
how I like you and in how strange a way...
- I sang my way into your soul... - ...you would go mad!
Do you hear that?
- ...and your pride dissipates, like chaff in the wind. - You would go mad!
You love me,
you love me, Princess!
Kiss me.
Not so fast, my friend.
- Infanta, you must come to the dance. - Ah, Ghita. Yes, I’m coming.
Go before me. It’s you I’ll dance with first.
With me?
But you must be gentle.
Me? Dance with the Princess?
He doesn’t know what he looks like, Ghita!
Yes, like Don Estoban said.
I thought it was just slyness, but it’s true: he loves me.
He dares to?
He thinks he’s worthy of his love and charges like a colt.
That’s dangerous.
We’ll have to reveal to him his own self.
His ugliness? How?
You must show him a mirror, so he realizes.
- You are cruel, Infanta. - It has to be done.
You hurt him, and I have to heal him?
It has to be done! Come on. Just show yourself to the guests
and then wait here. I’ll send him to you.
She’s tormenting him.
I can’t bear to see it.
- Are you crazy? - That dwarf! - That ogre!
Why shouldn’t she play with him?
I can’t bear to look, that’s all.
If he knew how laughable he is.
- A frog that’s swelled to bursting! - Like a turkey in the chicken run!
Be quiet, you cruel magpies!
I teased him at the start, poor man.
I thought he was pretending to be artless.
A Pulcinella, cunning like the others, I thought.
But I can’t bear to see anyone suffer.
- Hey look! - Look!
She’s given him a white rose.
And he’s kissing it, in front of them all.
He’s bowing to her...
And she’s laughing with the young Alvarez.
The dwarf is hurrying this way through the hall, with the rose.
Maybe I’m too weak
to tell a person the truth.
Dwarf! Court jester! Sir Knight!
Yes,
what is it, child?
I’ve something to tell you, something new.
Something new... you?
That I’m in love, I know.
Is that your announcement?
Or do you herald death?
And is that much?
Do you know what you look like?
What I look like?
That you’re a laughing stock,
deformed, ugly?
You insult me!
If you have a brother that loves the Infanta,
let’s fight a duel.
But don’t be underhand with me.
She gave me a white rose.
She confessed her love for me.
You shouldn’t tell lies!
Oh, dwarf! God gave you the most terrible affliction:
you are blind to yourself!
People see you as a plaything,
but cruelly hide that from you.
Say,
have you ever seen yourself in the mirror?
A mirror, what’s that?
A dazzling thing that tells the truth,
the pure truth.
If you have a friend,
don’t believe him.
But believe the mirror.
You hold the miraculous thing up before your eyes
and see the person you are.
Ah, I know. That’s my evil enemy, the one who apes me.
I’m unable to kill him.
On board the Spaniard I first saw that fiend,
in my drawn sword.
I struck him,
the steel clinked. The skipper took it from me.
Since then I’ve often seen him,
in darkened glass, in polished marble,
deviously immersed in flowing water.
He follows me, yet is only a ghost
conjured from dreams, and lifeless.
There, you see, the image!
Hah, it’s tame!
It squats on the blade, grinning and babbling,
aping me. Away, stupid ghost!
Oh, dwarf, God made all of us blind to ourselves, and vain.
Those that see themselves...
- I can’t! - Child, what is it?
You are artless and good.
You’re trembling?
What are you hiding in your hand?
Nothing, my friend.
I can’t! What would it do to him?
Yes, beware of the Infanta’s throne.
Strange, the moods of that foolish child!
“Beware of the Infanta’s throne.”
Does she mean traps?
Intrigues?
No! It’s the Princess I want to think about.
She gave me a white rose.
She confessed her love for me
and danced with me.
How beautifully evening is coming.
I’ll take her into the garden,
which is thick with flowering shrubs.
Then night will come.
I’ll swathe her in love,
in a robe heavy with mystery
and things not spoken of.
At her feet I will sing songs
that quiver to the endless stars.
I will kiss her mouth
and perhaps unfasten the agate on her belt,
as the night is balmy...
When will you come?
Will you come soon?
She’s dancing, her feet flitting round the hall like little mice.
I have to wait.
Then let me kiss the cushion she was carrying
when I saw that she was beautiful.
Sublime seat, your silk kissed her body,
and I shall kiss her neck’s trace.
Is it you, fiendish image?!
Get away from me! I don’t want to dream you.
Did you escape from my sword? And you’ve grown?
He’s talking inaudibly, moving about, spitting bile at me.
Go! Go!
He gestures me to leave.
I’ll smash your face in!
The table, too?! Is everything in you?!
Why these tormented features? You’re afraid?
With my fear?
No, no!
You’re a ghost. I’m not!
Are you a blaze of colour now?
How colourful you are! In the sword there was just your face.
But you’re standing, clothed... Oh no!
Dressed up in honour of the Princess!
With ruff and embroidery.
He is
like me!
Are you crying? Lying on the ground?
I did not cry. I don’t believe you.
It’s unthinkable
that anything so ugly can exist on a beautiful Earth.
No!
She gave me a white rose.
She danced with me.
She confessed her love for me.
She gave me a white rose.
Where is her white rose?
You have it! You! I’ll wrest it from you.
This cannot be!
Do you cry out, like my heart?
He is!
I can see you, you are the mirror.
So I am the ghoul, the mockery of God,
the hunchbacked horror. I am!
Sir Knight!
Oh, he knows.
Dwarf, what’s wrong?!
Princess, tell me it isn’t true.
What shouldn’t be true, that you’re ugly?
You need to tell me it isn’t true.
And if I said so, would you believe it?
- Didn’t you see yourself in the mirror? - It lies!
You need to tell me it isn’t true,
I’m not ugly, not deformed.
Don’t toy with me, Princess.
All the misery of the world is pressing down on me.
All the agony is hammering into my heart.
I’m freezing!
There, don’t cry.
You’ve got to be jolly with me.
Sing a happy song.
And then I’ll dance with you again,
my funny puppet.
Then say it isn’t true!
I can’t live like this, in doubt.
Is all creation laughing? Did you laugh too?
Yes, because you’re laughable and a funny old thing.
No! Say it isn’t true.
- Say that I’m handsome and you love me. - I love you out of pity and disgust.
You gave me a white rose.
You danced with me first.
You must love me,
- you must kiss me... - Are you out of your mind?
Love you, like one loves a normal person?
- All horror would fall from me - Listen, you are ugly,
- if you kissed me... - a dwarf, and misshapen!
You’re so ugly you’re a laughing stock!
...and told me it isn’t true.
You’re a monster, not a person!
You have to: otherwise I’ll die.
You’re such a horrid freak
- you’re a laughing stock! - I’m dying and want to kiss you.
I’m a dwarf and I love you!
I want to dance and play with you,
but I can only love a human being, and you
are like an animal!
Dwarf?
Are you dying?
Tell me it isn’t true.
Say that I’m handsome.
Infanta,
do come back to the dance!
What’s happened?
Dwarf! My dwarf!
My present is spoiled already,
the toy for my eighteenth birthday.
Right, then. I’ll go on dancing.
Pity about the good toy.
Such a shame!
God has shattered a poor heart,
a beautiful one.
Give me the white rose...