BLANCHE: I wore white dresses, almost invariably I’d walk in white! The color of virgins and brides! And as I drew near to the place of assignation! My blood would begin to boil with—infernal—longings! Yes, I could barely restrain my feet on the pavement! I wanted to run and to leap and give voice to goat-like screeches! But I had to pass demurely through the lounge—ask for my key as if butter wouldn’t melt! “Oh, has anyone called?” “No mail? Ha-ha! I’m forgotten!” “Well—good afternoon, Tommy. I think I’ll go up for my nap . . .” Then, in the shadowy space above the bright street— Then I would literally tear the clothes from my body! And lie all breathless until the knock at the door . . . This is the history of my heart since Belle Reve!

GRACE: And is it true you—had to leave the—high school?

BLANCHE: Did I tell you that? I didn’t mean to tell you.

GRACE: Then it is true, is it, Blanche?

BLANCHE: —Oh, yes.

GRACE: On account of?

BLANCHE: The Fitzgerald boy.

[Grace draws a sharp breath and presses a fist to her mouth.]

I know. Friends of the family for generations!

GRACE: Was it—

BLANCHE: —An open scandal?—I’m not sure. But his father wrote the Principal about it and suggested that I be persuaded to leave town a while . . . So I came here for my summer vacation, Grace. And here I am. And here you are. I met George. I suddenly looked on him as a possible refuge, a cleft in the rock of the world that I could hide in . . . He’d give me peace, sweet peace! Clear days again, and nights not haunted with fever! Then somehow or other—whispers began to reach him—“Marry her? What for! She gives it to strangers!” First I only saw it in his eyes, then he came out and told me—“You’re a liar, Blanche! This lily-white act is a lie! Your lovers, laid feet to forehead, would stretch all the way from here to Frenchman’s Bayou! So come across, Baby or else—I won’t call again . . .” Oh, not exactly in just those words but I am conveying what dear George had in mind! And can you blame him? [She falls silent. She rises and goes to the window and raises the light green blind on the golden blur of the fading afternoon. Children’s distant cries at games are heard.] Now that I’ve told you all this I feel a lot better. The snakes have stopped hissing those awful things in my brain! And if you want me to, I’ll go away now. I’ll let you put me in some—quiet—asylum . . . Then you and Jack can have your baby in peace, and tell him his Aunt sends her love from her home at Belle Reve! Have him grow up believing—Belle Reve—wasn’t lost!