VERLAINE (to YOUNG RIMBAUD)
You have the bluest eyes I've ever seen.
MATHILDE (taking VERLAINE aside)
Paul, he says you told him he could stay here. Who is he?
VERLAINE
A new Baudelaire.
MATHILDE
He's filthy! He smells!
VERLAINE (irritated)
Hold your nose.
MATHILDE
He may stay to dinner; afterwards he must leave. And, please, Paul, no arguments. I'm feeling ill.
VERLAINE (angrily)
You are forever ill. (to RIMBAUD) Come, you dear, great soul, we'll go for an aperitif. To the Cafe du Cluny, home to the best writers in Paris.
MATHILDE
Paul!
The Verlaine sitting room 'leaves' (as does MATHILDE) in the changing light as VERLAINE, his arms around YOUNG RIMBAUD, escords him to the cafe coming to meet them.
YOUNG RIMBAUD
Merde! I am weary of respectability!
VERLAINE
So am I.
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YOUNG RIMBAUD
Yet you stay in the company of such ordinary women.
VERLAINE
Lead and I will follow you. I already feel as though I must.
YOUNG RIMBAUD
Thank you for the money you sent; I had none. The few centimes I get from Maman pay for my seat at Sunday Mass.
VERLAINE
A collection among the Parnassians. We all wanted you here.
YOUNG RIMBAUD
And now that I am here, I am never going back.
At the cafe, both men stop just inside the door to overhear WRITER #1 reading his latest work.
[8] WRITER #1
A summer dawn, and all the thirsty roses drink as new-born sun paints Eastern skies a luscious pink.
YOUNG RIMBAUD (aside; to VERLAINE)
And pompous scribblers start their day by pissing ink.
VERLAINE (with a smile)
Behave! (introducing RIMBAUD)
Gentelmen, from the country, Arthur Rimbaud. Big hands, big feet, and already a poet. A genius.
WRITER #2
What do you intend to do in Paris, young genius?
YOUNG RIMBAUD
Manufacture gold.
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