[Blanche laughs breathlessly as she touches the cologne-dampened handkerchief to her temples.]

BLANCHE:

I'm afraid he does have me mixed up with this "other party." The Hotel Flamingo is not the sort of establishment I would dare to be seen in!

STANLEY:

You know of it?

BLANCHE:

Yes, I've seen it and smelled it

STANLEY:

You must've got pretty close if you could smell it

BLANCHE:

The odor of cheap perfume is penetrating.

STANLEY:

That stuff you use is expensive?

BLANCHE:

Twenty-five dollars an ounce! I'm nearly out. That's just a hint if you want to remember my birthday!

[She speaks lightly but her voice has a note of fear.]

STANLEY:

Shaw must've got you mixed up. He goes in and out of Laurel all the time so he can check on it and clear up any mistake.

[He turns away and crosses to the portieres. Blanche closes her eyes as if faint. Her hand trembles as she lifts the handkerchief again to her forehead.

[Steve and Eunice come around corner. Steve's arm is around Eunice's shoulder and she is sobbing luxuriously and he is cooing love-words. There is a murmur of thunder as they go slowly upstairs in a tight embrace.]

STANLEY [to Stella]:

I'll wait for you at the Four Deuces!

STELLA:

Hey! Don't I rate one kiss?

STANLEY:

Not in front of your sister.

[He goes out. Blanche rises from her chair. She seems faint; looks about her with an expression of almost panic.]

BLANCHE:

Stella! What have you heard about me?

STELLA:

Huh?

BLANCHE:

What have people been telling you about me?

STELLA:

Telling?

BLANCHE:

You haven't heard any--unkind--gossip about me?

STELLA:

Why, no, Blanche, of course not!

BLANCHE:

Honey, there was--a good deal of talk in Laurel.

STELLA:

About you, Blanche?

BLANCHE:

I wasn't so good the last two years or so, after Belle Reve had started to slip through my fingers.

STELLA:

All of us do things we--

BLANCHE:

I never was hard or sell-sufficient enough. When people are soft--soft people have got to shimmer and glow--they've got to put on soft colors, the colors of butterfly wings, and put a--paper lantern over the light.... It isn't enough to be soft. You've got to be soft and attractive. And I--I'm fading now! I don't know how much longer I can turn the trick.

[The afternoon has faded to dusk. Stella goes into the bedroom and turns on the light under the paper lantern. She holds a bottled soft drink in her hand.]

BLANCHE:

Have you been listening to me?

STELLA:

I don't listen to you when you are being morbid!

[She advances with the bottled coke.]

BLANCHE [with abrupt change to gaiety]:

Is that coke for me?

STELLA:

Not for anyone else!

BLANCHE:

Why, you precious thing, you! Is it just coke?

STELLA [turning]:

You mean you want a shot in it!

BLANCHE:

Well, honey, a shot never does a coke any harm! Let me! You mustn't wait on me!

STELLA:

I like to wait on you, Blanche. It makes it seem more like home.

[She goes into the kitchen, finds a glass and pours a shot of whiskey into it.]

BLANCHE:

I have to admit I love to be waited on....

[She rushes into the bedroom. Stella goes to her with the glass. Blanche suddenly clutches Stella's free hand with a moaning sound and presses the hand to her lips. Stella is embarrassed by her show of emotion. Blanche speaks in a choked voice.]

You're--you're--so good to me! And I--

STELLA:

Blanche.

BLANCHE:

I know, I won't! You hate me to talk sentimental! But honey, believe I feel things more than I tell you! I won't stay long! I won't, I promise I--

STELLA:

Blanche!

BLANCHE [hysterically]:

I won't, I promise, I'll go! Go soon! I will really! I won't hang around until he--throws me out...

STELLA:

Now will you stop talking foolish?

BLANCHE:

Yes, honey. Watch how you pour--that fizzy stuff foams over!

[Blanche laughs shrilly and grabs the glass, but her hand shakes so it almost slips from her grasp. Stella pours the coke into the glass. It foams over and spills. Blanche gives a piercing cry.]

STELLA [shocked by the cry]:

Heavens!

BLANCHE:

Right on my pretty white skirt!

STELLA:

Oh... Use my hanky. Blot gently.

BLANCHE [slowly recovering]:

I know--gently--gently...

STELLA:

Did it stain?

BLANCHE:

Not a bit. Ha-ha! Isn't that lucky?

[She sits down shaking, taking a grateful drink. She holds the glass in both hands and continues to laugh a little.]

STELLA:

Why did you scream like that?

BLANCHE:

I don't know why I screamed!

[continuing nervously]

Mitch--Mitch is coming at seven. I guess I am just feeling nervous about our relations.

[She begins to talk rapidly and breathlessly]

He hasn't gotten a thing but a goodnight kiss, that's all I have given him, Stella. I want his respect. And men don't want anything they get too easy. But on the other hand men lose interest quickly. Especially when the girl is over--thirty. They think a girl over thirty ought to--the vulgar term is--"put out."... And I--I'm not "putting out." Of course he--he doesn't know--I mean I haven't informed him--of my real age!

STELLA:

Why are you sensitive about your age?

BLANCHE:

Because of hard knocks my vanity's been given. What I mean is--he thinks I'm sort of--prim and proper, you know!

[She laughs out sharply] I want to deceive him enough to make him--want me...

STELLA:

Blanche, do you want him?

BLANCHE:

I want to rest! I want to breathe quietly again! Yes--I want Mitch... very badly! Just think! If it happens, I can leave here and not be anyone's problem....

[Stanley comes around the corner with a drink under his belt.]

STANLEY [bawling]:

Hey, Steve! Hey, Eunice! Hey, Stella!

[There are joyous calls from above. Trumpet and drums are heard from around the corner.]

STELLA [kissing Blanche impulsively]:

It will happen!

BLANCHE [doubtfully]:

It will?

STELLA:

It will!

[She goes across into the kitchen, looking back at Blanche.]

It will, honey, it will.... But don't take another drink!

[Her voice catches as she goes out the door to meet her husband.

[Blanche sinks faintly back in her chair--with her drink. Eunice shrieks with laughter and runs down the steps. Steve bounds after her--with goat-like screeches and chases her around corner. Stanley and Stella twine arms as they follow, laughing.

[Dusk settles deeper. The music from the Four Deuces is slow and blue.]

BLANCHE:

Ah, me, ah, me, ah, me...

[Her eyes fall shut and the palm leaf fan drops from her fingers. She slaps her hand on the chair arm a couple of times. There is a little glimmer of lightning about the building.

[A Young Man comes along the street and rings the bell.]

BLANCHE:

Come in.

[The Young Man appears through the portieres. She regards him with interest.]

BLANCHE:

Well, well! What can I do for you?

YOUNG MAN:

I'm collecting for The Evening Star.

BLANCHE:

I didn't know that stars took up collections.

YOUNG MAN:

It's the paper.

BLANCHE:

I know. I was joking--feebly! Will you--have a drink?

YOUNG MAN:

No, ma'am. No, thank you. I can't drink on the job.

BLANCHE:

Oh, well, now, let's see.... No, I don't have a dime! I'm not the lady of the house. I'm her sister from Mississippi. I'm one of those poor relations you've heard about.

YOUNG MAN: That's all right I'll drop by later.

[He starts to go out. She approaches a little.]