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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5060.txt b/5060.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5cdeccd --- /dev/null +++ b/5060.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5007 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Six Short Plays, Complete, by John Galsworthy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Six Short Plays, Complete + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: October 27, 2006 [EBook #5060] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX SHORT PLAYS, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + +SIX SHORT PLAYS OF GALSWORTHY + +By John Galsworthy + + + Contents: + + The First and The Last + The Little Man + Hall-marked + Defeat + The Sun + Punch and Go + + + + +THE FIRST AND THE LAST + +A DRAMA IN THREE SCENES + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +KEITH DARRANT, K.C. +LARRY DARRANT, His Brother. +WANDA. + + + +SCENE I. KEITH'S Study. + +SCENE II. WANDA's Room. + +SCENE III. The Same. + +Between SCENE I. and SCENE II.--Thirty hours. +Between SCENE II. and SCENE III.--Two months. + + + + +SCENE I + +It is six o'clock of a November evening, in KEITH DARRANT'S +study. A large, dark-curtained room where the light from a single +reading-lamp falling on Turkey carpet, on books beside a large +armchair, on the deep blue-and-gold coffee service, makes a sort of +oasis before a log fire. In red Turkish slippers and an old brown +velvet coat, KEITH DARRANT sits asleep. He has a dark, clean-cut, +clean-shaven face, dark grizzling hair, dark twisting eyebrows. + + [The curtained door away out in the dim part of the room behind + him is opened so softly that he does not wake. LARRY DARRANT + enters and stands half lost in the curtain over the door. A + thin figure, with a worn, high cheek-boned face, deep-sunk blue + eyes and wavy hair all ruffled--a face which still has a certain + beauty. He moves inwards along the wall, stands still again and + utters a gasping sigh. KEITH stirs in his chair.] + +KEITH. Who's there? + +LARRY. [In a stifled voice] Only I--Larry. + +KEITH. [Half-waked] Come in! I was asleep. [He does not turn his +head, staring sleepily at the fire.] + + The sound of LARRY's breathing can be heard. + + [Turning his head a little] Well, Larry, what is it? + + LARRY comes skirting along the wall, as if craving its support, + outside the radius of the light. + + [Staring] Are you ill? + + LARRY stands still again and heaves a deep sigh. + +KEITH. [Rising, with his back to the fire, and staring at his +brother] What is it, man? [Then with a brutality born of nerves +suddenly ruffled] Have you committed a murder that you stand there +like a fish? + +LARRY. [In a whisper] Yes, Keith. + +KEITH. [With vigorous disgust] By Jove! Drunk again! [In a +voice changed by sudden apprehension] What do you mean by coming +here in this state? I told you---- If you weren't my brother----! +Come here, where I can we you! What's the matter with you, Larry? + + [With a lurch LARRY leaves the shelter of the wall and sinks into + a chair in the circle of light.] + +LARRY. It's true. + + [KEITH steps quickly forward and stares down into his brother's + eyes, where is a horrified wonder, as if they would never again + get on terms with his face.] + +KEITH. [Angry, bewildered-in a low voice] What in God's name is +this nonsense? + + [He goes quickly over to the door and draws the curtain aside, to + see that it is shut, then comes back to LARRY, who is huddling + over the fire.] + +Come, Larry! Pull yourself together and drop exaggeration! What on +earth do you mean? + +LARRY. [In a shrill outburst] It's true, I tell you; I've killed a +man. + +KEITH. [Bracing himself; coldly] Be quiet! + + LARRY lifts his hands and wrings them. + +[Utterly taken aback] Why come here and tell me this? + +LARRY. Whom should I tell, Keith? I came to ask what I'm to do-- +give myself up, or what? + +KEITH. When--when--what----? + +LARRY. Last night. + +KEITH. Good God! How? Where? You'd better tell me quietly from +the beginning. Here, drink this coffee; it'll clear your head. + + He pours out and hands him a cup of coffee. LARRY drinks it + off. + +LARRY. My head! Yes! It's like this, Keith--there's a girl---- + +KEITH. Women! Always women, with you! Well? + +LARRY. A Polish girl. She--her father died over here when she was +sixteen, and left her all alone. There was a mongrel living in the +same house who married her--or pretended to. She's very pretty, +Keith. He left her with a baby coming. She lost it, and nearly +starved. Then another fellow took her on, and she lived with him two +years, till that brute turned up again and made her go back to him. +He used to beat her black and blue. He'd left her again when--I met +her. She was taking anybody then. [He stops, passes his hand over +his lips, looks up at KEITH, and goes on defiantly] I never met a +sweeter woman, or a truer, that I swear. Woman! She's only twenty +now! When I went to her last night, that devil had found her out +again. He came for me--a bullying, great, hulking brute. Look! +[He touches a dark mark on his forehead] I took his ugly throat, and +when I let go--[He stops and his hands drop.] + +KEITH. Yes? + +LARRY. [In a smothered voice] Dead, Keith. I never knew till +afterwards that she was hanging on to him--to h-help me. [Again he +wrings his hands.] + +KEITH. [In a hard, dry voice] What did you do then? + +LARRY. We--we sat by it a long time. + +KEITH. Well? + +LARRY. Then I carried it on my back down the street, round a corner, +to an archway. + +KEITH. How far? + +LARRY. About fifty yards. + +KEITH. Was--did anyone see? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. What time? + +LARRY. Three in the morning. + +KEITH. And then? + +LARRY. Went back to her. + +KEITH. Why--in heaven's name? + +LARRY. She way lonely and afraid. So was I, Keith. + +KEITH. Where is this place? + +LARRY. Forty-two Borrow Square, Soho. + +KEITH. And the archway? + +LARRY. Corner of Glove Lane. + +KEITH. Good God! Why, I saw it in the paper this morning. They +were talking of it in the Courts! [He snatches the evening paper +from his armchair, and runs it over anal reads] Here it is again. +"Body of a man was found this morning under an archway in Glove Lane. +From marks about the throat grave suspicion of foul play are +entertained. The body had apparently been robbed." My God! +[Suddenly he turns] You saw this in the paper and dreamed it. +D'you understand, Larry?--you dreamed it. + +LARRY. [Wistfully] If only I had, Keith! + + [KEITH makes a movement of his hands almost like his brother's.] + +KEITH. Did you take anything from the-body? + +LARRY. [Drawing au envelope from his pocket] This dropped out while +we were struggling. + +KEITH. [Snatching it and reading] "Patrick Walenn"--Was that his +name? "Simon's Hotel, Farrier Street, London." [Stooping, he puts it +in the fire] No!--that makes me----[He bends to pluck it out, stays +his hand, and stamps it suddenly further in with his foot] What in +God's name made you come here and tell me? Don't you know I'm--I'm +within an ace of a Judgeship? + +LARRY. [Simply] Yes. You must know what I ought to do. I didn't, +mean to kill him, Keith. I love the girl--I love her. What shall I +do? + +KEITH. Love! + +LARRY. [In a flash] Love!--That swinish brute! A million creatures +die every day, and not one of them deserves death as he did. But but +I feel it here. [Touching his heart] Such an awful clutch, Keith. +Help me if you can, old man. I may be no good, but I've never hurt a +fly if I could help it. [He buries his face in his hands.] + +KEITH. Steady, Larry! Let's think it out. You weren't seen, you +say? + +LARRY. It's a dark place, and dead night. + +KEITH. When did you leave the girl again? + +LARRY. About seven. + +KEITH. Where did you go? + +LARRY. To my rooms. + +KEITH. To Fitzroy Street? + +LARRY. Yes. + +KEITH. What have you done since? + +LARRY. Sat there--thinking. + +KEITH. Not been out? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. Not seen the girl? + + [LARRY shakes his head.] + +Will she give you away? + +LARRY. Never. + +KEITH. Or herself hysteria? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. Who knows of your relations with her? + +LARRY. No one. + +KEITH. No one? + +LARRY. I don't know who should, Keith. + +KEITH. Did anyone see you go in last night, when you first went to +her? + +LARRY. No. She lives on the ground floor. I've got keys. + +KEITH. Give them to me. + + LARRY takes two keys from his pocket and hands them to his + brother. + +LARRY. [Rising] I can't be cut off from her! + +KEITH. What! A girl like that? + +LARRY. [With a flash] Yes, a girl like that. + +KEITH. [Moving his hand to put down old emotion] What else have you +that connects you with her? + +LARRY. Nothing. + +KEITH. In your rooms? + + [LARRY shakes his head.] + +Photographs? Letters? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. Sure? + +LARRY. Nothing. + +KEITH. No one saw you going back to her? + + [LARRY shakes his head. ] +Nor leave in the morning? You can't be certain. + +LARRY. I am. + +KEITH. You were fortunate. Sit down again, man. I must think. + + He turns to the fire and leans his elbows on the mantelpiece and + his head on his hands. LARRY Sits down again obediently. + +KEITH. It's all too unlikely. It's monstrous! + +LARRY. [Sighing it out] Yes. + +KEITH. This Walenn--was it his first reappearance after an absence? + +LARRY. Yes. + +KEITH. How did he find out where she was? + +LARRY. I don't know. + +KEITH. [Brutally] How drunk were you? + +LARRY. I was not drunk. + +KEITH. How much had you drunk, then? + +LARRY. A little claret--nothing! + +KEITH. You say you didn't mean to kill him. + +LARRY. God knows. + +KEITH. That's something. + +LARRY. He hit me. [He holds up his hands] I didn't know I was so +strong. + +KEITH. She was hanging on to him, you say?--That's ugly. + +LARRY. She was scared for me. + +KEITH. D'you mean she--loves you? + +LARRY. [Simply] Yes, Keith. + +KEITH. [Brutally] Can a woman like that love? + +LARRY. [Flashing out] By God, you are a stony devil! Why not? + +KEITH. [Dryly] I'm trying to get at truth. If you want me to help, +I must know everything. What makes you think she's fond of you? + +LARRY. [With a crazy laugh] Oh, you lawyer! Were you never in a +woman's arms? + +KEITH. I'm talking of love. + +LARRY. [Fiercely] So am I. I tell you she's devoted. Did you ever +pick up a lost dog? Well, she has the lost dog's love for me. And I +for her; we picked each other up. I've never felt for another woman +what I feel for her--she's been the saving of me! + +KEITH. [With a shrug] What made you choose that archway? + +LARRY. It was the first dark place. + +KEITH. Did his face look as if he'd been strangled? + +LARRY. Don't! + +KEITH. Did it? + + [LARRY bows his head.] + +Very disfigured? + +LARRY. Yes. + +KEITH. Did you look to see if his clothes were marked? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. Why not? + +LARRY. [In an outburst] I'm not made of iron, like you. Why not? +If you had done it----! + +KEITH. [Holding up his hand] You say he was disfigured. Would he +be recognisable? + +LARRY. [Wearily] I don't know. + +KEITH. When she lived with him last--where was that? + +LARRY. In Pimlico, I think. + +KEITH. Not Soho? + + [LARRY shakes his head.] + +How long has she been at this Soho place? + +LARRY. Nearly a year. + +KEITH. Living this life? + +LARRY. Till she met me. + +KEITH. Till, she met you? And you believe----? + +LARRY. [Starting up] Keith! + +KEITH. [Again raising his hand] Always in the same rooms? + +LARRY. [Subsiding] Yes. + +KEITH. What was he? A professional bully? + + [LARRY nods.] + +Spending most of his time abroad, I suppose. + +LARRY. I think so. + +KEITH. Can you say if he was known to the police? + +LARRY. I've never heard. + + KEITH turns away and walks up and down; then, stopping at + LARRY's chair, he speaks. + +KEITH. Now listen, Larry. When you leave here, go straight home, +and stay there till I give you leave to go out again. Promise. + +LARRY. I promise. + +KEITH. Is your promise worth anything? + +LARRY. [With one of his flashes] "Unstable as water, he shall not +excel!" + +KEITH. Exactly. But if I'm to help you, you must do as I say. +I must have time to think this out. Have you got money? + +LARRY. Very little. + +KEITH. [Grimly] Half-quarter day--yes, your quarter's always spent +by then. If you're to get away--never mind, I can manage the money. + +LARRY. [Humbly] You're very good, Keith; you've always been very +good to me--I don't know why. + +KEITH. [Sardonically] Privilege of A brother. As it happens, I'm +thinking of myself and our family. You can't indulge yourself in +killing without bringing ruin. My God! I suppose you realise that +you've made me an accessory after the fact--me, King's counsel--sworn +to the service of the Law, who, in a year or two, will have the +trying of cases like yours! By heaven, Larry, you've surpassed +yourself! + +LARRY. [Bringing out a little box] I'd better have done with it. + +KErra. You fool! Give that to me. + +LARRY. [With a strange smite] No. [He holds up a tabloid between +finger and thumb] White magic, Keith! Just one--and they may do +what they like to you, and you won't know it. Snap your fingers at +all the tortures. It's a great comfort! Have one to keep by you? + +KEITH. Come, Larry! Hand it over. + +LARRY. [Replacing the box] Not quite! You've never killed a man, +you see. [He gives that crazy laugh.] D'you remember that hammer +when we were boys and you riled me, up in the long room? I had luck +then. I had luck in Naples once. I nearly killed a driver for +beating his poor brute of a horse. But now--! My God! [He covers +his face.] + + KEITH touched, goes up and lays a hand on his shoulder. + +KEITH. Come, Larry! Courage! + + LARRY looks up at him. + +LARRY. All right, Keith; I'll try. + +KEITH. Don't go out. Don't drink. Don't talk. Pull yourself +together! + +LARRY. [Moving towards the door] Don't keep me longer than you can +help, Keith. + +KEITH. No, no. Courage! + + LARRY reaches the door, turns as if to say something-finds no + words, and goes. + +[To the fire] Courage! My God! I shall need it! + + + CURTAIN + + + + +SCENE II + + At out eleven o'clock the following night an WANDA'S room on the + ground floor in Soho. In the light from one close-shaded + electric bulb the room is but dimly visible. A dying fire burns + on the left. A curtained window in the centre of the back wall. + A door on the right. The furniture is plush-covered and + commonplace, with a kind of shabby smartness. A couch, without + back or arms, stands aslant, between window and fire. + + [On this WANDA is sitting, her knees drawn up under her, staring + at the embers. She has on only her nightgown and a wrapper over + it; her bare feet are thrust into slippers. Her hands are + crossed and pressed over her breast. She starts and looks up, + listening. Her eyes are candid and startled, her face alabaster + pale, and its pale brown hair, short and square-cut, curls + towards her bare neck. The startled dark eyes and the faint + rose of her lips are like colour-staining on a white mask.] + + [Footsteps as of a policeman, very measured, pass on the + pavement outside, and die away. She gets up and steals to the + window, draws one curtain aside so that a chink of the night is + seen. She opens the curtain wider, till the shape of a bare, + witch-like tree becomes visible in the open space of the little + Square on the far side of the road. The footsteps are heard + once more coming nearer. WANDA closes the curtains and cranes + back. They pass and die again. She moves away and looking down + at the floor between door and couch, as though seeing something + there; shudders; covers her eyes; goes back to the couch and + down again just as before, to stare at the embers. Again she is + startled by noise of the outer door being opened. She springs + up, runs and turns the light by a switch close to the door. By + the glimmer of the fire she can just be seen standing by the + dark window-curtains, listening. There comes the sound of + subdued knocking on her door. She stands in breathless terror. + The knocking is repeated. The sound of a latchkey in the door + is heard. Her terror leaves her. The door opens; a man enters + in a dark, fur overcoat.] + +WANDA. [In a voice of breathless relief, with a rather foreign +accent] Oh! it's you, Larry! Why did you knock? I was so +frightened. Come in! [She crosses quickly, and flings her arms +round his neck] [Recoiling--in a terror-stricken whisper] Oh! Who +is it? + +KEITH. [In a smothered voice] A friend of Larry's. Don't be +frightened. + + She has recoiled again to the window; and when he finds the + switch and turns the light up, she is seen standing there + holding her dark wrapper up to her throat, so that her face has + an uncanny look of being detached from the body. + +[Gently] You needn't be afraid. I haven't come to do you harm-- +quite the contrary. [Holding up the keys] Larry wouldn't have given +me these, would he, if he hadn't trusted me? + + WANDA does not move, staring like a spirit startled out of the + flesh. + +[After looking round him] I'm sorry to have startled you. + +WANDA. [In a whisper] Who are you, please? + +KEITH. Larry's brother. + + WANDA, with a sigh of utter relief, steals forward to the couch + and sinks down. KEITH goes up to her. + +He'd told me. + +WANDA. [Clasping her hands round her knees.] Yes? + +KEITH. An awful business! + +WANDA. Yes; oh, yes! Awful--it is awful! + +KEITH. [Staring round him again.] In this room? + +WANDA. Just where you are standing. I see him now, always falling. + +KEITH. [Moved by the gentle despair in her voice] You--look very +young. What's your name? + +WANDA. Wanda. + +KEITH. Are you fond of Larry? + +WANDA. I would die for him! + + [A moment's silence.] + +KEITH. I--I've come to see what you can do to save him. + +WANDA, [Wistfully] You would not deceive me. You are really his +brother? + +KEITH. I swear it. + +WANDA. [Clasping her hands] If I can save him! Won't you sit down? + +KEITH. [Drawing up a chair and sitting] This, man, your--your +husband, before he came here the night before last--how long since +you saw him? + +WANDA. Eighteen month. + +KEITH. Does anyone about here know you are his wife? + +WANDA. No. I came here to live a bad life. Nobody know me. I am +quite alone. + +KEITH. They've discovered who he was--you know that? + +WANDA. No; I have not dared to go out. + +KEITH: Well, they have; and they'll look for anyone connected with +him, of course. + +WANDA. He never let people think I was married to him. I don't know +if I was--really. We went to an office and signed our names; but he +was a wicked man. He treated many, I think, like me. + +KEITH. Did my brother ever see him before? + +WANDA. Never! And that man first went for him. + +KEITH. Yes. I saw the mark. Have you a servant? + +WANDA. No. A woman come at nine in the morning for an hour. + +KEITH. Does she know Larry? + +WANDA. No. He is always gone. + +KEITH. Friends--acquaintances? + +WANDA. No; I am verree quiet. Since I know your brother, I see no +one, sare. + +KEITH. [Sharply] Do you mean that? + +WANDA. Oh, yes! I love him. Nobody come here but him for a long +time now. + +KEITH. How long? + +WANDA. Five month. + +KEITH. So you have not been out since----? + + [WANDA shakes her head.] + +What have you been doing? + +WANDA. [Simply] Crying. [Pressing her hands to her breast] He is +in danger because of me. I am so afraid for him. + +KEITH. [Checking her emotion] Look at me. + + [She looks at him.] + +If the worst comes, and this man is traced to you, can you trust +yourself not to give Larry away? + +WANDA. [Rising and pointing to the fire] Look! I have burned all +the things he have given me--even his picture. Now I have nothing +from him. + +KEITH. [Who has risen too] Good! One more question. Do the police +know you--because--of your life? + + [She looks at him intently, and shakes her, head.] + +You know where Larry lives? + +WANDA. Yes. + +KEITH. You mustn't go there, and he mustn't come to you. + + [She bows her head; then, suddenly comes close to him.] + +WANDA. Please do not take him from me altogether. I will be so +careful. I will not do anything to hurt him. But if I cannot see +him sometimes, I shall die. Please do not take him from me. + + [She catches his hand and presses it desperately between her + own.] + +KEITH. Leave that to me. I'm going to do all I can. + +WANDA. [Looking up into his face] But you will be kind? + + Suddenly she bends and kisses his hand. KEITH draws his hand + away, and she recoils a little humbly, looking up at him again. + Suddenly she stands rigid, listening. + +[In a whisper] Listen! Someone--out there! + + She darts past him and turns out the light. There is a knock on + the door. They are now close together between door and window. + + [Whispering] Oh! Who is it? + +KEITH. [Under his breath] You said no one comes but Larry. + +WANDA. Yes, and you have his keys. Oh! if it is Larry! I must open! + + KEITH shrinks back against the wall. WANDA goes to the door. + +[Opening the door an inch] Yes? Please? Who? + + A thin streak of light from a bull's-eye lantern outside plays + over the wall. A Policeman's voice says: "All right, Miss. + Your outer door's open. You ought to keep it shut after dark, + you know." + +WANDA. Thank you, air. + + [The sound of retreating footsteps, of the outer door closing. + WANDA shuts the door.] + +A policeman! + +KEITH. [Moving from the wall] Curse! I must have left that door. +[Suddenly-turning up the light] You told me they didn't know you. + +WANDA. [Sighing] I did not think they did, sir. It is so long I +was not out in the town; not since I had Larry. + + KEITH gives her an intent look, then crosses to the fire. He + stands there a moment, looking down, then turns to the girl, who + has crept back to the couch. + +KEITH. [Half to himself] After your life, who can believe---? Look +here! You drifted together and you'll drift apart, you know. Better +for him to get away and make a clean cut of it. + +WANDA. [Uttering a little moaning sound] Oh, sir! May I not love, +because I have been bad? I was only sixteen when that man spoiled +me. If you knew---- + +KEITH. I'm thinking of Larry. With you, his danger is much greater. +There's a good chance as things are going. You may wreck it. And +for what? Just a few months more of--well--you know. + +WANDA. [Standing at the head of the couch and touching her eyes with +her hands] Oh, sir! Look! It is true. He is my life. Don't take +him away from me. + +KEITH. [Moved and restless] You must know what Larry is. He'll +never stick to you. + +WANDA. [Simply] He will, sir. + +KEITH. [Energetically] The last man on earth to stick to anything! +But for the sake of a whim he'll risk his life and the honour of all +his family. I know him. + +WANDA. No, no, you do not. It is I who know him. + +KEITH. Now, now! At any moment they may find out your connection +with that man. So long as Larry goes on with you, he's tied to this +murder, don't you see? + +WANDA. [Coming close to him] But he love me. Oh, sir! he love me! + +KEITH. Larry has loved dozens of women. + +WANDA. Yes, but----[Her face quivers]. + +KEITH. [Brusquely] Don't cry! If I give you money, will you +disappear, for his sake? + +WANDA. [With a moan] It will be in the water, then. There will be +no cruel men there. + +KEITH. Ah! First Larry, then you! Come now. It's better for you +both. A few months, and you'll forget you ever met. + +WANDA. [Looking wildly up] I will go if Larry say I must. But not +to live. No! [Simply] I could not, sir. + + [KEITH, moved, is silent.] + +I could not live without Larry. What is left for a girl like me-- +when she once love? It is finish. + +KEITH. I don't want you to go back to that life. + +WANDA. No; you do not care what I do. Why should you? I tell you I +will go if Larry say I must. + +KEITH. That's not enough. You know that. You must take it out of +his hands. He will never give up his present for the sake of his +future. If you're as fond of him as you say, you'll help to save +him. + +WANDA. [Below her breath] Yes! Oh, yes! But do not keep him long +from me--I beg! [She sinks to the floor and clasps his knees.] + +KEITH. Well, well! Get up. + + [There is a tap on the window-pane] + +Listen! + + [A faint, peculiar whistle. ] + +WANDA. [Springing up] Larry! Oh, thank God! + + [She runs to the door, opens it, and goes out to bring him in. + KEITH stands waiting, facing the open doorway.] + + [LARRY entering with WANDA just behind him.] + +LARRY. Keith! + +KEITH. [Grimly] So much for your promise not to go out! + +LARRY. I've been waiting in for you all day. I couldn't stand it +any longer. + +KEITH. Exactly! + +LARRY. Well, what's the sentence, brother? Transportation for life +and then to be fined forty pounds'? + +KEITH. So you can joke, can you? + +LARRY. Must. + +KEITH. A boat leaves for the Argentine the day after to-morrow; you +must go by it. + +LARRY. [Putting his arms round WANDA, who is standing motionless +with her eyes fixed on him] Together, Keith? + +KEITH. You can't go together. I'll send her by the next boat. + +LARRY. Swear? + +KEITH. Yes. You're lucky they're on a false scent. + +LARRY. What? + +KEITH. You haven't seen it? + +LARRY. I've seen nothing, not even a paper. + +KEITH. They've taken up a vagabond who robbed the body. He pawned a +snake-shaped ring, and they identified this Walenn by it. I've been +down and seen him charged myself. + +LARRY. With murder? + +WANDA. [Faintly] Larry! + +KEITH. He's in no danger. They always get the wrong man first. +It'll do him no harm to be locked up a bit--hyena like that. Better +in prison, anyway, than sleeping out under archways in this weather. + +LARRY. What was he like, Keith? + +KEITH. A little yellow, ragged, lame, unshaven scarecrow of a chap. +They were fools to think he could have had the strength. + +LARRY. What! [In an awed voice] Why, I saw him--after I left you +last night. + +KEITH. You? Where? + +LARRY. By the archway. + +KEITH. You went back there? + +LARRY. It draws you, Keith. + +KErra. You're mad, I think. + +LARRY. I talked to him, and he said, "Thank you for this little +chat. It's worth more than money when you're down." Little grey man +like a shaggy animal. And a newspaper boy came up and said: "That's +right, guv'nors! 'Ere's where they found the body--very spot. They +'yn't got 'im yet." + + [He laughs; and the terrified girl presses herself against him.] + +An innocent man! + +KEITH. He's in no danger, I tell you. He could never have +strangled----Why, he hadn't the strength of a kitten. Now, Larry! +I'll take your berth to-morrow. Here's money [He brings out a pile +of notes and puts them on the couch] You can make a new life of it +out there together presently, in the sun. + +LARRY. [In a whisper] In the sun! "A cup of wine and thou." +[Suddenly] How can I, Keith? I must see how it goes with that poor +devil. + +KEITH. Bosh! Dismiss it from your mind; there's not nearly enough +evidence. + +LARRY. Not? + +KEITH. No. You've got your chance. Take it like a man. + +LARRY. [With a strange smile--to the girl] Shall we, Wanda? + +WANDA. Oh, Larry! + +LARRY. [Picking the notes up from the couch] Take them back, Keith. + +KEITH. What! I tell you no jury would convict; and if they did, no +judge would hang. A ghoul who can rob a dead body, ought to be in +prison. He did worse than you. + +LARRY. It won't do, Keith. I must see it out. + +KEITH. Don't be a fool! + +LARRY. I've still got some kind of honour. If I clear out before I +know, I shall have none--nor peace. Take them, Keith, or I'll put +them in the fire. + +KEITH. [Taking back the notes; bitterly] I suppose I may ask you +not to be entirely oblivious of our name. Or is that unworthy of +your honour? + +LARRY. [Hanging his head] I'm awfully sorry, Keith; awfully sorry, +old man. + +KEITH. [sternly] You owe it to me--to our name--to our dead mother +--to do nothing anyway till we see what happens. + +LARRY. I know. I'll do nothing without you, Keith. + +KEITH. [Taking up his hat] Can I trust you? [He stares hard at his +brother.] + +LARRY. You can trust me. + +KEITH. Swear? + +LARRY. I swear. + +KEITH. Remember, nothing! Good night! + +LARRY. Good night! + + KEITH goes. LARRY Sits down on the couch sand stares at the + fire. The girl steals up and slips her arms about him. + +LARRY. An innocent man! + +WANDA. Oh, Larry! But so are you. What did we want--to kill that +man? Never! Oh! kiss me! + + [LARRY turns his face. She kisses his lips.] + +I have suffered so--not seein' you. Don't leave me again--don't! +Stay here. Isn't it good to be together?--Oh! Poor Larry! How +tired you look!--Stay with me. I am so frightened all alone. So +frightened they will take you from me. + +LARRY. Poor child! + +WANDA. No, no! Don't look like that! + +LARRY. You're shivering. + +WANDA. I will make up the fire. Love me, Larry! I want to forget. + +LARRY. The poorest little wretch on God's earth--locked up--for me! +A little wild animal, locked up. There he goes, up and down, up and +down--in his cage--don't you see him?--looking for a place to gnaw +his way through--little grey rat. [He gets up and roams about.] + +WANDA. No, no! I can't bear it! Don't frighten me more! + + [He comes back and takes her in his arms.] + +LARRY. There, there! [He kisses her closed eyes.] + +WANDA. [Without moving] If we could sleep a little--wouldn't it be +nice? + +LARRY. Sleep? + +WANDA. [Raising herself] Promise to stay with me--to stay here for +good, Larry. I will cook for you; I will make you so comfortable. +They will find him innocent. And then--Oh, Larry! in the sun-right +away--far from this horrible country. How lovely! [Trying to get +him to look at her] Larry! + +LARRY. [With a movement to free 'himself] To the edge of the +world-and---over! + +WANDA. No, no! No, no! You don't want me to die, Larry, do you? I +shall if you leave me. Let us be happy! Love me! + +LARRY. [With a laugh] Ah! Let's be happy and shut out the sight of +him. Who cares? Millions suffer for no mortal reason. Let's be +strong, like Keith. No! I won't leave you, Wanda. Let's forget +everything except ourselves. [Suddenly] There he goes-up and down! + +WANDA. [Moaning] No, no! See! I will pray to the Virgin. She will +pity us! + + She falls on her knees and clasps her hands, praying. Her lips + move. LARRY stands motionless, with arms crossed, and on his + face are yearning and mockery, love and despair. + +LARRY. [Whispering] Pray for us! Bravo! Pray away! + + [Suddenly the girl stretches out her arms and lifts her face + with a look of ecstasy.] + +What? + +WANDA. She is smiling! We shall be happy soon. + +LARRY. [Bending down over her] Poor child! When we die, Wanda, +let's go together. We should keep each other warm out in the dark. + +WANDA. [Raising her hands to his face] Yes! oh, yes! If you die I +could not--I could not go on living! + + + CURTAIN + + + +SCENE III. + +TWO MONTHS LATER + + WANDA'S room. Daylight is just beginning to fail of a January + afternoon. The table is laid for supper, with decanters of + wine. + + WANDA is standing at the window looking out at the wintry trees + of the Square beyond the pavement. A newspaper Boy's voice is + heard coming nearer. + +VOICE. Pyper! Glove Lyne murder! Trial and verdict! [Receding] +Verdict! Pyper! + + WANDA throws up the window as if to call to him, checks herself, + closes it and runs to the door. She opens it, but recoils into + the room. KEITH is standing there. He comes in. + +KEITH. Where's Larry? + +WANDA. He went to the trial. I could not keep him from it. The +trial--Oh! what has happened, sir? + +KEITH. [Savagely] Guilty! Sentence of death! Fools!--idiots! + +WANDA. Of death! [For a moment she seems about to swoon.] + +KEITH. Girl! girl! It may all depend on you. Larry's still living +here? + +WANDA. Yes. + +KEITH. I must wait for him. + +WANDA. Will you sit down, please? + +KEITH. [Shaking his head] Are you ready to go away at any time? + +WANDA. Yes, yes; always I am ready. + +KEITH. And he? + +WANDA. Yes--but now! What will he do? That poor man! + +KEITH. A graveyard thief--a ghoul! + +WANDA. Perhaps he was hungry. I have been hungry: you do things +then that you would not. Larry has thought of him in prison so much +all these weeks. Oh! what shall we do now? + +KEITH. Listen! Help me. Don't let Larry out of your sight. I must +see how things go. They'll never hang this wretch. [He grips her +arms] Now, we must stop Larry from giving himself up. He's fool +enough. D'you understand? + +WANDA. Yes. But why has he not come in? Oh! If he have, already! + +KEITH. [Letting go her arms] My God! If the police come--find me +here--[He moves to the door] No, he wouldn't without seeing you +first. He's sure to come. Watch him like a lynx. Don't let him go +without you. + +WANDA. [Clasping her hands on her breast] I will try, sir. + +KEITH. Listen! + + [A key is heard in the lock.] + +It's he! + + LARRY enters. He is holding a great bunch of pink lilies and + white narcissus. His face tells nothing. KEITH looks from him + to the girl, who stands motionless. + +LARRY. Keith! So you've seen? + +KEITH. The thing can't stand. I'll stop it somehow. But you must +give me time, Larry. + +LARRY. [Calmly] Still looking after your honour, KEITH! + +KEITH. [Grimly] Think my reasons what you like. + +WANDA. [Softly] Larry! + + [LARRY puts his arm round her.] + +LARRY. Sorry, old man. + +KEITH. This man can and shall get off. I want your solemn promise +that you won't give yourself up, nor even go out till I've seen you +again. + +LARRY. I give it. + +KEITH. [Looking from one to the other] By the memory of our mother, +swear that. + +LARRY. [With a smile] I swear. + +KEITH. I have your oath--both of you--both of you. I'm going at +once to see what can be done. + +LARRY. [Softly] Good luck, brother. + + KEITH goes out. + +WANDA. [Putting her hands on LARRY's breast] What does it mean? + +LARRY. Supper, child--I've had nothing all day. Put these lilies in +water. + + [She takes the lilies and obediently puts them into a vase. + LARRY pours wine into a deep-coloured glass and drinks it off.] + +We've had a good time, Wanda. Best time I ever had, these last two +months; and nothing but the bill to pay. + +WANDA. [Clasping him desperately] Oh, Larry! Larry! + +LARRY. [Holding her away to look at her.] Take off those things and +put on a bridal garment. + +WANDA. Promise me--wherever you go, I go too. Promise! Larry, you +think I haven't seen, all these weeks. But I have seen everything; +all in your heart, always. You cannot hide from me. I knew--I knew! +Oh, if we might go away into the sun! Oh! Larry--couldn't we? [She +searches his eyes with hers--then shuddering] Well! If it must be +dark--I don't care, if I may go in your arms. In prison we could not +be together. I am ready. Only love me first. Don't let me cry +before I go. Oh! Larry, will there be much pain? + +LARRY. [In a choked voice] No pain, my pretty. + +WANDA. [With a little sigh] It is a pity. + +LARRY. If you had seen him, as I have, all day, being tortured. +Wanda,--we shall be out of it. [The wine mounting to his head] We +shall be free in the dark; free of their cursed inhumanities. I hate +this world--I loathe it! I hate its God-forsaken savagery; its pride +and smugness! Keith's world--all righteous will-power and success. +We're no good here, you and I--we were cast out at birth--soft, +will-less--better dead. No fear, Keith! I'm staying indoors. [He +pours wine into two glasses] Drink it up! + + + [Obediently WANDA drinks, and he also.] + +Now go and make yourself beautiful. + +WANDA. [Seizing him in her arms] Oh, Larry! + +LARRY. [Touching her face and hair] Hanged by the neck until he's +dead--for what I did. + + [WANDA takes a long look at his face, slips her arms from him, + and goes out through the curtains below the fireplace.] + + [LARRY feels in his pocket, brings out the little box, opens it, + fingers the white tabloids.] + +LARRY. Two each--after food. [He laughs and puts back the box] Oh! +my girl! + + [The sound of a piano playing a faint festive tune is heard afar + off. He mutters, staring at the fire.] + + [Flames-flame, and flicker-ashes.] + +"No more, no more, the moon is dead, And all the people in it." + + [He sits on the couch with a piece of paper on his knees, adding + a few words with a stylo pen to what is already written.] + + [The GIRL, in a silk wrapper, coming back through the curtains, + watches him.] + +LARRY. [Looking up] It's all here--I've confessed. [Reading] + +"Please bury us together." +"LAURENCE DARRANT. +"January 28th, about six p.m." + +They'll find us in the morning. Come and have supper, my dear love. + + [The girl creeps forward. He rises, puts his arm round her, and + with her arm twined round him, smiling into each other's faces, + they go to the table and sit down.] + + The curtain falls for a few seconds to indicate the passage of + three hours. When it rises again, the lovers are lying on the + couch, in each other's arms, the lilies stream about them. The + girl's bare arm is round LARRY'S neck. Her eyes are closed; his + are open and sightless. There is no light but fire-light. + + A knocking on the door and the sound of a key turned in the + lock. KEITH enters. He stands a moment bewildered by the + half-light, then calls sharply: "Larry!" and turns up the light. + Seeing the forms on the couch, he recoils a moment. Then, + glancing at the table and empty decanters, goes up to the couch. + +KEITH. [Muttering] Asleep! Drunk! Ugh! + + [Suddenly he bends, touches LARRY, and springs back.] + +What! [He bends again, shakes him and calls] Larry! Larry! + + [Then, motionless, he stares down at his brother's open, + sightless eyes. Suddenly he wets his finger and holds it to the + girl's lips, then to LARRY'S.] + + [He bends and listens at their hearts; catches sight of the + little box lying between them and takes it up.] + +My God! + + [Then, raising himself, he closes his brother's eyes, and as he + does so, catches sight of a paper pinned to the couch; detaches + it and reads:] + +"I, Lawrence Darrant, about to die by my own hand confess that I----" + + [He reads on silently, in horror; finishes, letting the paper + drop, and recoils from the couch on to a chair at the + dishevelled supper table. Aghast, he sits there. Suddenly he + mutters:] + +If I leave that there--my name--my whole future! + + [He springs up, takes up the paper again, and again reads.] + +My God! It's ruin! + + [He makes as if to tear it across, stops, and looks down at + those two; covers his eyes with his hand; drops the paper and + rushes to the door. But he stops there and comes back, + magnetised, as it were, by that paper. He takes it up once more + and thrusts it into his pocket.] + + [The footsteps of a Policeman pass, slow and regular, outside. + His face crisps and quivers; he stands listening till they die + away. Then he snatches the paper from his pocket, and goes past + the foot of the couch to the fore.] + +All my----No! Let him hang! + + [He thrusts the paper into the fire, stamps it down with his + foot, watches it writhe and blacken. Then suddenly clutching + his head, he turns to the bodies on the couch. Panting and like + a man demented, he recoils past the head of the couch, and + rushing to the window, draws the curtains and throws the window + up for air. Out in the darkness rises the witch-like skeleton + tree, where a dark shape seems hanging. KEITH starts back.] + +What's that? What----! + + [He shuts the window and draws the dark curtains across it + again.] + +Fool! Nothing! + + [Clenching his fists, he draws himself up, steadying himself + with all his might. Then slowly he moves to the door, stands a + second like a carved figure, his face hard as stone.] + + [Deliberately he turns out the light, opens the door, and goes.] + + [The still bodies lie there before the fire which is licking at + the last blackened wafer.] + + +CURTAIN + + + + + + +THE LITTLE MAN + +A FARCICAL MORALITY IN THREE SCENES + + + +CHARACTERS + +THE LITTLE MAN. +THE AMERICAN. +THE ENGLISHMAN. +THE ENGLISHWOMAN. +THE GERMAN. +THE DUTCH BOY. +THE MOTHER. +THE BABY. +THE WAITER. +THE STATION OFFICIAL. +THE POLICEMAN. +THE PORTER. + + + + +SCENE I + + Afternoon, on the departure platform of an Austrian railway + station. At several little tables outside the buffet persons + are taking refreshment, served by a pale young waiter. On a + seat against the wall of the buffet a woman of lowly station is + sitting beside two large bundles, on one of which she has placed + her baby, swathed in a black shawl. + +WAITER. [Approaching a table whereat sit an English traveller and +his wife] Two coffee? + +ENGLISHMAN. [Paying] Thanks. [To his wife, in an Oxford voice] +Sugar? + +ENGLISHWOMAN. [In a Cambridge voice] One. + +AMERICAN TRAVELLER. [With field-glasses and a pocket camera from +another table] Waiter, I'd like to have you get my eggs. I've been +sitting here quite a while. + +WAITER. Yes, sare. + +GERMAN TRAVELLER. 'Kellner, bezahlen'! [His voice is, like his +moustache, stiff and brushed up at the ends. His figure also is +stiff and his hair a little grey; clearly once, if not now, a +colonel.] + +WAITER. 'Komm' gleich'! + + [The baby on the bundle wails. The mother takes it up to soothe + it. A young, red-cheeked Dutchman at the fourth table stops + eating and laughs.] + +AMERICAN. My eggs! Get a wiggle on you! + +WAITER. Yes, sare. [He rapidly recedes.] + + [A LITTLE MAN in a soft hat is seen to the right of tables. He + stands a moment looking after the hurrying waiter, then seats + himself at the fifth table.] + +ENGLISHMAN. [Looking at his watch] Ten minutes more. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Bother! + +AMERICAN. [Addressing them] 'Pears as if they'd a prejudice against +eggs here, anyway. + + [The ENGLISH look at him, but do not speak. ] + +GERMAN. [In creditable English] In these places man can get +nothing. + + [The WAITER comes flying back with a compote for the DUTCH + YOUTH, who pays.] + +GERMAN. 'Kellner, bezahlen'! + +WAITER. 'Eine Krone sechzig'. + + [The GERMAN pays.] + +AMERICAN. [Rising, and taking out his watch--blandly] See here. If +I don't get my eggs before this watch ticks twenty, there'll be +another waiter in heaven. + +WAITER. [Flying] 'Komm' gleich'! + +AMERICAN. [Seeking sympathy] I'm gettin' kind of mad! + + [The ENGLISHMAN halves his newspaper and hands the advertisement + half to his wife. The BABY wails. The MOTHER rocks it.] + + [The DUTCH YOUTH stops eating and laughs. The GERMAN lights a + cigarette. The LITTLE MAN sits motionless, nursing his hat. + The WAITER comes flying back with the eggs and places them + before the AMERICAN.] + +AMERICAN. [Putting away his watch] Good! I don't like trouble. +How much? + + [He pays and eats. The WAITER stands a moment at the edge of + the platform and passes his hand across his brow. The LITTLE + MAN eyes him and speaks gently.] + +LITTLE MAN. Herr Ober! + + [The WAITER turns.] + +Might I have a glass of beer? + +WAITER. Yes, sare. + +LITTLE MAN. Thank you very much. + + [The WAITER goes.] + +AMERICAN. [Pausing in the deglutition of his eggs--affably] Pardon +me, sir; I'd like to have you tell me why you called that little bit +of a feller "Herr Ober." Reckon you would know what that means? +Mr. Head Waiter. + +LITTLE MAN. Yes, yes. + +AMERICAN. I smile. + +LITTLE MAN. Oughtn't I to call him that? + +GERMAN. [Abruptly] 'Nein--Kellner'. + +AMERICAN. Why, yes! Just "waiter." + + [The ENGLISHWOMAN looks round her paper for a second. The DUTCH + YOUTH stops eating and laughs. The LITTLE MAN gazes from face + to face and nurses his hat.] + +LITTLE MAN. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. + +GERMAN. Gott! + +AMERICAN. In my country we're very democratic--but that's quite a +proposition. + +ENGLISHMAN. [Handling coffee-pot, to his wife] More? + +ENGLISHWOMAN. No, thanks. + +GERMAN. [Abruptly] These fellows--if you treat them in this manner, +at once they take liberties. You see, you will not get your beer. + + [As he speaks the WAITER returns, bringing the LITTLE MAN'S + beer, then retires.] + +AMERICAN. That 'pears to be one up to democracy. [To the LITTLE +MAN] I judge you go in for brotherhood? + +LITTLE MAN. [Startled] Oh, no! + +AMERICAN. I take considerable stock in Leo Tolstoi myself. Grand +man--grand-souled apparatus. But I guess you've got to pinch those +waiters some to make 'em skip. [To the ENGLISH, who have carelessly +looked his way for a moment] You'll appreciate that, the way he +acted about my eggs. + + [The ENGLISH make faint motions with their chins and avert their + eyes.] + + [To the WAITER, who is standing at the door of the buffet] + +Waiter! Flash of beer--jump, now! + +WAITER. 'Komm' gleich'! + +GERMAN. 'Cigarren'! + +WAITER. 'Schon'! + + [He disappears.] + +AMERICAN. [Affably--to the LITTLE MAN] Now, if I don't get that +flash of beer quicker'n you got yours, I shall admire. + +GERMAN. [Abruptly] Tolstoi is nothing 'nichts'! No good! Ha? + +AMERICAN. [Relishing the approach of argument] Well, that is a +matter of temperament. Now, I'm all for equality. See that poor +woman there--very humble woman--there she sits among us with her +baby. Perhaps you'd like to locate her somewhere else? + +GERMAN. [Shrugging]. Tolstoi is 'sentimentalisch'. Nietzsche is +the true philosopher, the only one. + +AMERICAN. Well, that's quite in the prospectus--very stimulating +party--old Nietch--virgin mind. But give me Leo! [He turns to the +red-cheeked YOUTH] What do you opine, sir? I guess by your labels +you'll be Dutch. Do they read Tolstoi in your country? + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +AMERICAN. That is a very luminous answer. + +GERMAN. Tolstoi is nothing. Man should himself express. He must +push--he must be strong. + +AMERICAN. That is so. In America we believe in virility; we like a +man to expand. But we believe in brotherhood too. We draw the line +at niggers; but we aspire. Social barriers and distinctions we've +not much use for. + +ENGLISHMAN. Do you feel a draught? + +ENGLISHWOMAN. [With a shiver of her shoulder toward the AMERICAN] I +do--rather. + +GERMAN. Wait! You are a young people. + +AMERICAN. That is so; there are no flies on us. [To the LITTLE MAN, +who has been gazing eagerly from face to face] Say! I'd like to +have you give us your sentiments in relation to the duty of man. + + [The LITTLE MAN, fidgets, and is about to opens his mouth.] + +AMERICAN. For example--is it your opinion that we should kill off +the weak and diseased, and all that can't jump around? + +GERMAN. [Nodding] 'Ja, ja'! That is coming. + +LITTLE MAN. [Looking from face to face] They might be me. + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +AMERICAN. [Reproving him with a look] That's true humility. +'Tisn't grammar. Now, here's a proposition that brings it nearer the +bone: Would you step out of your way to help them when it was liable +to bring you trouble? + +GERMAN. 'Nein, nein'! That is stupid. + +LITTLE MAN. [Eager but wistful] I'm afraid not. Of course one +wants to--There was St Francis d'Assisi and St Julien L'Hospitalier, +and---- + +AMERICAN. Very lofty dispositions. Guess they died of them. [He +rises] Shake hands, sir--my name is--[He hands a card] I am an +ice-machine maker. [He shakes the LITTLE MAN's hand] I like your +sentiments--I feel kind of brotherly. [Catching sight of the WAITER +appearing in the doorway] Waiter; where to h-ll is that glass of +beer? + +GERMAN. Cigarren! + +WAITER. 'Komm' gleich'! + +ENGLISHMAN. [Consulting watch] Train's late. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Really! Nuisance! + + [A station POLICEMAN, very square and uniformed, passes and + repasses.] + +AMERICAN. [Resuming his seat--to the GERMAN] Now, we don't have so +much of that in America. Guess we feel more to trust in human +nature. + +GERMAN. Ah! ha! you will bresently find there is nothing in him +but self. + +LITTLE MAN. [Wistfully] Don't you believe in human nature? + +AMERICAN. Very stimulating question. + + [He looks round for opinions. The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +ENGLISHMAN. [Holding out his half of the paper to his wife] Swap! + + [His wife swaps.] + +GERMAN. In human nature I believe so far as I can see him--no more. + +AMERICAN. Now that 'pears to me kind o' blasphemy. I believe in +heroism. I opine there's not one of us settin' around here that's +not a hero--give him the occasion. + +LITTLE MAN. Oh! Do you believe that? + +AMERICAN. Well! I judge a hero is just a person that'll help +another at the expense of himself. Take that poor woman there. +Well, now, she's a heroine, I guess. She would die for her baby any +old time. + +GERMAN. Animals will die for their babies. That is nothing. + +AMERICAN. I carry it further. I postulate we would all die for that +baby if a locomotive was to trundle up right here and try to handle +it. [To the GERMAN] I guess you don't know how good you are. [As +the GERMAN is twisting up the ends of his moustache--to the +ENGLISHWOMAN] I should like to have you express an opinion, ma'am. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. I beg your pardon. + +AMERICAN. The English are very humanitarian; they have a very high +sense of duty. So have the Germans, so have the Americans. [To the +DUTCH YOUTH] I judge even in your little country they have that. +This is an epoch of equality and high-toned ideals. [To the LITTLE +MAN] What is your nationality, sir? + +LITTLE MAN. I'm afraid I'm nothing particular. My father was +half-English and half-American, and my mother half-German and +half-Dutch. + +AMERICAN. My! That's a bit streaky, any old way. [The POLICEMAN +passes again] Now, I don't believe we've much use any more for those +gentlemen in buttons. We've grown kind of mild--we don't think of +self as we used to do. + + [The WAITER has appeared in the doorway.] + +GERMAN. [In a voice of thunder] 'Cigarren! Donnerwetter'! + +AMERICAN. [Shaking his fist at the vanishing WAITER] That flash of +beer! + +WAITER. 'Komm' gleich'! + +AMERICAN. A little more, and he will join George Washington! I was +about to remark when he intruded: In this year of grace 1913 the +kingdom of Christ is quite a going concern. We are mighty near +universal brotherhood. The colonel here [He indicates the GERMAN] is +a man of blood and iron, but give him an opportunity to be +magnanimous, and he'll be right there. Oh, sir! yep! + + [The GERMAN, with a profound mixture of pleasure and cynicism, + brushes up the ends of his moustache.] + +LITTLE MAN. I wonder. One wants to, but somehow--[He shakes his +head.] + +AMERICAN. You seem kind of skeery about that. You've had experience, +maybe. I'm an optimist--I think we're bound to make the devil hum in +the near future. I opine we shall occasion a good deal of trouble to +that old party. There's about to be a holocaust of selfish +interests. The colonel there with old-man Nietch he won't know +himself. There's going to be a very sacred opportunity. + + [As he speaks, the voice of a RAILWAY OFFICIAL is heard an the + distance calling out in German. It approaches, and the words + become audible.] + +GERMAN. [Startled] 'Der Teufel'! [He gets up, and seizes the bag +beside him.] + + [The STATION OFFICIAL has appeared; he stands for a moment + casting his commands at the seated group. The DUTCH YOUTH also + rises, and takes his coat and hat. The OFFICIAL turns on his + heel and retires still issuing directions.] + +ENGLISHMAN. What does he say? + +GERMAN. Our drain has come in, de oder platform; only one minute we +haf. + + [All, have risen in a fluster.] + +AMERICAN. Now, that's very provoking. I won't get that flash of +beer. + + [There is a general scurry to gather coats and hats and wraps, + during which the lowly WOMAN is seen making desperate attempts + to deal with her baby and the two large bundles. Quite + defeated, she suddenly puts all down, wrings her hands, and + cries out: "Herr Jesu! Hilfe!" The flying procession turn + their heads at that strange cry.] + +AMERICAN. What's that? Help? + + [He continues to run. The LITTLE MAN spins round, rushes back, + picks up baby and bundle on which it was seated.] + +LITTLE MAN. Come along, good woman, come along! + + [The WOMAN picks up the other bundle and they run.] + + [The WAITER, appearing in the doorway with the bottle of beer, + watches with his tired smile.] + + + CURTAIN + + + + +SCENE II + + A second-class compartment of a corridor carriage, in motion. + In it are seated the ENGLISHMAN and his WIFE, opposite each + other at the corridor end, she with her face to the engine, he + with his back. Both are somewhat protected from the rest of the + travellers by newspapers. Next to her sits the GERMAN, and + opposite him sits the AMERICAN; next the AMERICAN in one window + corner is seated the DUTCH YOUTH; the other window corner is + taken by the GERMAN'S bag. The silence is only broken by the + slight rushing noise of the train's progression and the + crackling of the English newspapers. + +AMERICAN. [Turning to the DUTCH YOUTH] Guess I'd like that window +raised; it's kind of chilly after that old run they gave us. + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs, and goes through the motions of raising + the window. The ENGLISH regard the operation with uneasy + irritation. The GERMAN opens his bag, which reposes on the + corner seat next him, and takes out a book.] + +AMERICAN. The Germans are great readers. Very stimulating practice. +I read most anything myself! + + [The GERMAN holds up the book so that the title may be read.] + +"Don Quixote"--fine book. We Americans take considerable stock in +old man Quixote. Bit of a wild-cat--but we don't laugh at him. + +GERMAN. He is dead. Dead as a sheep. A good thing, too. + +AMERICAN. In America we have still quite an amount of chivalry. + +GERMAN. Chivalry is nothing 'sentimentalisch'. In modern days--no +good. A man must push, he must pull. + +AMERICAN. So you say. But I judge your form of chivalry is +sacrifice to the state. We allow more freedom to the individual +soul. Where there's something little and weak, we feel it kind of +noble to give up to it. That way we feel elevated. + + [As he speaks there is seen in the corridor doorway the LITTLE + MAN, with the WOMAN'S BABY still on his arm and the bundle held + in the other hand. He peers in anxiously. The ENGLISH, acutely + conscious, try to dissociate themselves from his presence with + their papers. The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +GERMAN. 'Ach'! So! + +AMERICAN. Dear me! + +LITTLE MAN. Is there room? I can't find a seat. + +AMERICAN. Why, yes! There's a seat for one. + +LITTLE MAN. [Depositing bundle outside, and heaving BABY] May I? + +AMERICAN. Come right in! + + [The GERMAN sulkily moves his bag. The LITTLE MAN comes in and + seats himself gingerly.] + +AMERICAN. Where's the mother? + +LITTLE MAN. [Ruefully] Afraid she got left behind. + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs. The ENGLISH unconsciously emerge from + their newspapers.] + +AMERICAN. My! That would appear to be quite a domestic incident. + + [The ENGLISHMAN suddenly utters a profound "Ha, Ha!" and + disappears behind his paper. And that paper and the one + opposite are seen to shake, and little sguirls and squeaks + emerge.] + +GERMAN. And you haf got her bundle, and her baby. Ha! [He cackles +drily.] + +AMERICAN. [Gravely] I smile. I guess Providence has played it +pretty low down on you. It's sure acted real mean. + + [The BABY wails, and the LITTLE MAN jigs it with a sort of + gentle desperation, looking apologetically from face to face. + His wistful glance renews the fore of merriment wherever it + alights. The AMERICAN alone preserves a gravity which seems + incapable of being broken.] + +AMERICAN. Maybe you'd better get off right smart and restore that +baby. There's nothing can act madder than a mother. + +LITTLE MAN. Poor thing, yes! What she must be suffering! + + [A gale of laughter shakes the carriage. The ENGLISH for a + moment drop their papers, the better to indulge. The LITTLE MAN + smiles a wintry smile.] + +AMERICAN. [In a lull] How did it eventuate? + +LITTLE MAN. We got there just as the train was going to start; and I +jumped, thinking I could help her up. But it moved too quickly, +and--and left her. + + [The gale of laughter blows up again.] + +AMERICAN. Guess I'd have thrown the baby out to her. + +LITTLE MAN. I was afraid the poor little thing might break. + + [The Baby wails; the LITTLE MAN heaves it; the gale of laughter + blows.] + +AMERICAN. [Gravely] It's highly entertaining--not for the baby. +What kind of an old baby is it, anyway? [He sniff's] I judge it's a +bit--niffy. + +LITTLE MAN. Afraid I've hardly looked at it yet. + +AMERICAN. Which end up is it? + +LITTLE MAM. Oh! I think the right end. Yes, yes, it is. + +AMERICAN. Well, that's something. Maybe you should hold it out of +window a bit. Very excitable things, babies! + +ENGLISHWOMAN. [Galvanized] No, no! + +ENGLISHMAN. [Touching her knee] My dear! + +AMERICAN. You are right, ma'am. I opine there's a draught out +there. This baby is precious. We've all of us got stock in this +baby in a manner of speaking. This is a little bit of universal +brotherhood. Is it a woman baby? + +LITTLE MAN. I--I can only see the top of its head. + +AMERICAN. You can't always tell from that. It looks kind of +over-wrapped up. Maybe it had better be unbound. + +GERMAN. 'Nein, nein, nein'! + +AMERICAN. I think you are very likely right, colonel. It might be a +pity to unbind that baby. I guess the lady should be consulted in +this matter. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Yes, yes, of course----! + +ENGLISHMAN. [Touching her] Let it be! Little beggar seems all +right. + +AMERICAN. That would seem only known to Providence at this moment. +I judge it might be due to humanity to look at its face. + +LITTLE MAN. [Gladly] It's sucking my' finger. There, there--nice +little thing--there! + +AMERICAN. I would surmise in your leisure moments you have created +babies, sir? + +LITTLE MAN. Oh! no--indeed, no. + +AMERICAN. Dear me!--That is a loss. [Addressing himself to the +carriage at large] I think we may esteem ourselves fortunate to have +this little stranger right here with us. Demonstrates what a hold +the little and weak have upon us nowadays. The colonel here--a man +of blood and iron--there he sits quite calm next door to it. [He +sniffs] Now, this baby is rather chastening--that is a sign of +grace, in the colonel--that is true heroism. + +LITTLE MAN. [Faintly] I--I can see its face a little now. + + [All bend forward.] + +AMERICAN. What sort of a physiognomy has it, anyway? + +LITTLE MAN. [Still faintly] I don't see anything but--but spots. + +GERMAN. Oh! Ha! Pfui! + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +AMERICAN. I am told that is not uncommon amongst babies. Perhaps we +could have you inform us, ma'am. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Yes, of course--only what sort of---- + +LITTLE MAN. They seem all over its----[At the slight recoil of +everyone] I feel sure it's--it's quite a good baby underneath. + +AMERICAN. That will be rather difficult to come at. I'm just a bit +sensitive. I've very little use for affections of the epidermis. + +GERMAN. Pfui! [He has edged away as far as he can get, and is +lighting a big cigar] + + [The DUTCH YOUTH draws his legs back.] + +AMERICAN. [Also taking out a cigar] I guess it would be well to +fumigate this carriage. Does it suffer, do you think? + +LITTLE MAN. [Peering] Really, I don't--I'm not sure--I know so +little about babies. I think it would have a nice expression--if--if +it showed. + +AMERICAN. Is it kind of boiled looking? + +LITTLE MAN. Yes--yes, it is. + +AMERICAN. [Looking gravely round] I judge this baby has the +measles. + + [The GERMAN screws himself spasmodically against the arm of the + ENGLISHWOMAN'S seat.] + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Poor little thing! Shall I----? + + [She half rises.] + +ENGLISHMAN. [Touching her] No, no----Dash it! + +AMERICAN. I honour your emotion, ma'am. It does credit to us all. +But I sympathize with your husband too. The measles is a very +important pestilence in connection with a grown woman. + +LITTLE MAN. It likes my finger awfully. Really, it's rather a sweet +baby. + +AMERICAN. [Sniffing] Well, that would appear to be quite a +question. About them spots, now? Are they rosy? + +LITTLE MAN. No-o; they're dark, almost black. + +GERMAN. Gott! Typhus! [He bounds up on to the arm of the +ENGLISHWOMAN'S Seat.] + +AMERICAN. Typhus! That's quite an indisposition! + + [The DUTCH YOUTH rises suddenly, and bolts out into the + corridor. He is followed by the GERMAN, puffing clouds of + smoke. The ENGLISH and AMERICAN sit a moment longer without + speaking. The ENGLISHWOMAN'S face is turned with a curious + expression--half pity, half fear--towards the LITTLE MAN. Then + the ENGLISHMAN gets up.] + +ENGLISHMAN. Bit stuffy for you here, dear, isn't it? + + [He puts his arm through hers, raises her, and almost pushes her + through the doorway. She goes, still looking back.] + +AMERICAN. [Gravely] There's nothing I admire more'n courage. Guess +I'll go and smoke in the corridor. + + [As he goes out the LITTLE MAN looks very wistfully after him. + Screwing up his mouth and nose, he holds the BABY away from him + and wavers; then rising, he puts it on the seat opposite and + goes through the motions of letting down the window. Having + done so he looks at the BABY, who has begun to wail. Suddenly + he raises his hands and clasps them, like a child praying. + Since, however, the BABY does not stop wailing, he hovers over + it in indecision; then, picking it up, sits down again to dandle + it, with his face turned toward the open window. Finding that + it still wails, he begins to sing to it in a cracked little + voice. It is charmed at once. While he is singing, the + AMERICAN appears in the corridor. Letting down the passage + window, he stands there in the doorway with the draught blowing + his hair and the smoke of his cigar all about him. The LITTLE + MAN stops singing and shifts the shawl higher to protect the + BABY'S head from the draught.] + +AMERICAN. [Gravely] This is the most sublime spectacle I have ever +envisaged. There ought to be a record of this. + + [The LITTLE MAN looks at him, wondering. You are typical, sir, + of the sentiments of modern Christianity. You illustrate the + deepest feelings in the heart of every man.] + + [The LITTLE MAN rises with the BABY and a movement of approach.] + +Guess I'm wanted in the dining-car. + + [He vanishes. The LITTLE MAN sits down again, but back to the + engine, away from the draught, and looks out of the window, + patiently jogging the BABY On his knee.] + + + CURTAIN + + + +SCENE III + + An arrival platform. The LITTLE MAN, with the BABY and the + bundle, is standing disconsolate, while travellers pass and + luggage is being carried by. A STATION OFFICIAL, accompanied by + a POLICEMAN, appears from a doorway, behind him. + +OFFICIAL. [Consulting telegram in his hand] 'Das ist der Herr'. + + [They advance to the LITTLE MAN.] + +OFFICIAL. 'Sie haben einen Buben gestohlen'? + +LITTLE MAN. I only speak English and American. + +OFFICIAL. 'Dies ist nicht Ihr Bube'? + + [He touches the Baby.] + +LITTLE MAN. [Shaking his head] Take care--it's ill. + + [The man does not understand.] + +Ill--the baby---- + +OFFICIAL. [Shaking his head] 'Verstehe nicht'. Dis is nod your baby? +No? + +LITTLE MAN. [Shaking his head violently] No, it is not. No. + +OFFICIAL. [Tapping the telegram] Gut! You are 'rested. [He signs +to the POLICEMAN, who takes the LITTLE MAN's arm.] + +LITTLE MAN. Why? I don't want the poor baby. + +OFFICIAL. [Lifting the bundle] 'Dies ist nicht Ihr Gepack'--pag? + +LITTLE Mary. No. + +OFFICIAL. Gut! You are 'rested. + +LITTLE MAN. I only took it for the poor woman. I'm not a thief-- +I'm--I'm---- + +OFFICIAL. [Shaking head] Verstehe nicht. + + [The LITTLE MAN tries to tear his hair. The disturbed BABY + wails.] + +LITTLE MAN. [Dandling it as best he can] There, there--poor, poor! + +OFFICIAL. Halt still! You are 'rested. It is all right. + +LITTLE MAN. Where is the mother? + +OFFICIAL. She comet by next drain. Das telegram say: 'Halt einen +Herren mit schwarzem Buben and schwarzem Gepack'. 'Rest gentleman +mit black baby and black--pag. + + [The LITTLE MAN turns up his eyes to heaven.] + +OFFICIAL. 'Komm mit us'. + + [They take the LITTLE MAN toward the door from which they have + come. A voice stops them.] + +AMERICAN. [Speaking from as far away as may be] Just a moment! + + [The OFFICIAL stops; the LITTLE MAN also stops and sits down on + a bench against the wall. The POLICEMAN stands stolidly beside + him. The AMERICAN approaches a step or two, beckoning; the + OFFICIAL goes up to him.] + +AMERICAN. Guess you've got an angel from heaven there! What's the +gentleman in buttons for? + +OFFICIAL. 'Was ist das'? + +AMERICAN. Is there anybody here that can understand American? + +OFFICIAL. 'Verstehe nicht'. + +AMERICAN. Well, just watch my gestures. I was saying [He points to +the LITTLE MAN, then makes gestures of flying] you have an angel +from heaven there. You have there a man in whom Gawd [He points +upward] takes quite an amount of stock. You have no call to arrest +him. [He makes the gesture of arrest] No, Sir. Providence has +acted pretty mean, loading off that baby on him. [He makes the +motion of dandling] The little man has a heart of gold. [He points +to his heart, and takes out a gold coin.] + +OFFICIAL. [Thinking he is about to be bribed] 'Aber, das ist zu +viel'! + +AMERICAN. Now, don't rattle me! [Pointing to the LITTLE MAN] Man +[Pointing to his heart] 'Herz' [Pointing to the coin] 'von' Gold. +This is a flower of the field--he don't want no gentleman in buttons +to pluck him up. + + [A little crowd is gathering, including the Two ENGLISH, the + GERMAN, and the DUTCH YOUTH.] + +OFFICIAL. 'Verstehe absolut nichts'. [He taps the telegram] 'Ich muss +mein' duty do. + +AMERICAN. But I'm telling you. This is a white man. This is +probably the whitest man on Gawd's earth. + +OFFICIAL. 'Das macht nichts'--gut or no gut, I muss mein duty do. +[He turns to go toward the LITTLE MAN.] + +AMERICAN. Oh! Very well, arrest him; do your duty. This baby has +typhus. + + [At the word "typhus" the OFFICIAL stops.] + +AMERICAN. [Making gestures] First-class typhus, black typhus, +schwarzen typhus. Now you have it. I'm kind o' sorry for you and +the gentleman in buttons. Do your duty! + +OFFICIAL. Typhus? Der Bub--die baby hat typhus? + +AMERICAN. I'm telling you. + +OFFICIAL. Gott im Himmel! + +AMERICAN. [Spotting the GERMAN in the little throng] here's a +gentleman will corroborate me. + +OFFICIAL. [Much disturbed, and signing to the POLICEMAN to stand +clear] Typhus! 'Aber das ist grasslich'! + +AMERICAN. I kind o' thought you'd feel like that. + +OFFICIAL. 'Die Sanitatsmachine! Gleich'! + + [A PORTER goes to get it. From either side the broken half-moon + of persons stand gazing at the LITTLE MAN, who sits unhappily + dandling the BABY in the centre.] + +OFFICIAL. [Raising his hands] 'Was zu thun'? + +AMERICAN. Guess you'd better isolate the baby. + + [A silence, during which the LITTLE MAN is heard faintly + whistling and clucking to the BABY.] + +OFFICIAL. [Referring once more to his telegram] + +"'Rest gentleman mit black baby." [Shaking his head] Wir must de +gentleman hold. [To the GERMAN] 'Bitte, mein Herr, sagen Sie ihm, +den Buben zu niedersetzen'. [He makes the gesture of deposit.] + +GERMAN. [To the LITTLE MAN] He say: Put down the baby. + + [The LITTLE MAN shakes his head, and continues to dandle the + BABY.] + +OFFICIAL. You must. + + [The LITTLE MAN glowers, in silence.] + +ENGLISHMAN. [In background--muttering] Good man! + +GERMAN. His spirit ever denies. + +OFFICIAL. [Again making his gesture] 'Aber er muss'! + + [The LITTLE MAN makes a face at him.] + +'Sag' Ihm': Instantly put down baby, and komm' mit us. + + [The BABY wails.] + +LITTLE MAN. Leave the poor ill baby here alone? Be--be--be d---d to +you! + +AMERICAN. [Jumping on to a trunk--with enthusiasm] Bully! + + [The ENGLISH clap their hands; the DUTCH YOUTH laughs. The + OFFICIAL is muttering, greatly incensed.] + +AMERICAN. What does that body-snatcher say? + +GERMAN. He say this man use the baby to save himself from arrest. +Very smart he say. + +AMERICAN. I judge you do him an injustice. [Showing off the LITTLE +MAN with a sweep of his arm.] This is a white man. He's got a black +baby, and he won' leave it in the lurch. Guess we would all act +noble that way, give us the chance. + + [The LITTLE MAN rises, holding out the BABY, and advances a step + or two. The half-moon at once gives, increasing its size; the + AMERICAN climbs on to a higher trunk. The LITTLE MAN retires + and again sits down.] + +AMERICAN. [Addressing the OFFICIAL] Guess you'd better go out of +business and wait for the mother. + +OFFICIAL. [Stamping his foot] Die Mutter sall 'rested be for taking +out baby mit typhus. Ha! [To the LITTLE MAN] Put ze baby down! + + [The LITTLE MAN smiles.] + +Do you 'ear? + +AMERICAN. [Addressing the OFFICIAL] Now, see here. 'Pears to me +you don't suspicion just how beautiful this is. Here we have a man +giving his life for that old baby that's got no claim on him. This +is not a baby of his own making. No, sir, this is a very Christ-like +proposition in the gentleman. + +OFFICIAL. Put ze baby down, or ich will goummand someone it to do. + +AMERICAN. That will be very interesting to watch. + +OFFICIAL. [To POLICEMAN] Dake it vrom him. + + [The POLICEMAN mutters, but does not.] + +AMERICAN. [To the German] Guess I lost that. + +GERMAN. He say he is not his officier. + +AMERICAN. That just tickles me to death. + +OFFICIAL. [Looking round] Vill nobody dake ze Bub'? + +ENGLISHWOMAN. [Moving a step faintly] Yes--I---- + +ENGLISHMAN. [Grasping her arm]. By Jove! Will you! + +OFFICIAL. [Gathering himself for a great effort to take the BABY, +and advancing two steps] Zen I goummand you--[He stops and his voice +dies away] Zit dere! + +AMERICAN. My! That's wonderful. What a man this is! What a +sublime sense of duty! + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs. The OFFICIAL turns on him, but as he + does so the MOTHER of the Busy is seen hurrying.] + +MOTHER. 'Ach! Ach! Mei' Bubi'! + + [Her face is illumined; she is about to rush to the LITTLE MAN.] + +OFFICIAL. [To the POLICEMAN] 'Nimm die Frau'! + + [The POLICEMAN catches hold of the WOMAN.] + +OFFICIAL. [To the frightened WOMAN] 'Warum haben Sie einen Buben mit +Typhus mit ausgebracht'? + +AMERICAN. [Eagerly, from his perch] What was that? I don't want to +miss any. + +GERMAN. He say: Why did you a baby with typhus with you bring out? + +AMERICAN. Well, that's quite a question. + + [He takes out the field-glasses slung around him and adjusts + them on the BABY.] + +MOTHER. [Bewildered] Mei' Bubi--Typhus--aber Typhus? [She shakes +her head violently] 'Nein, nein, nein! Typhus'! + +OFFICIAL. Er hat Typhus. + +MOTHER. [Shaking her head] 'Nein, nein, nein'! + +AMERICAN. [Looking through his glasses] Guess she's kind of right! +I judge the typhus is where the baby' slobbered on the shawl, and +it's come off on him. + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +OFFICIAL. [Turning on him furiously] Er hat Typhus. + +AMERICAN. Now, that's where you slop over. Come right here. + + [The OFFICIAL mounts, and looks through the glasses.] + +AMERICAN. [To the LITTLE MAN] Skin out the baby's leg. If we don't +locate spots on that, it'll be good enough for me. + + [The LITTLE MAN fumbles Out the BABY'S little white foot.] + +MOTHER. Mei' Bubi! [She tries to break away.] + +AMERICAN. White as a banana. [To the OFFICIAL--affably] Guess +you've made kind of a fool of us with your old typhus. + +OFFICIAL. Lass die Frau! + + [The POLICEMAN lets her go, and she rushes to her BABY.] + +MOTHER. Mei' Bubi! + + [The BABY, exchanging the warmth of the LITTLE MAN for the + momentary chill of its MOTHER, wails.] + +OFFICIAL. [Descending and beckoning to the POLICEMAN] 'Sie wollen +den Herrn accusiren'? + + [The POLICEMAN takes the LITTLE MAN's arm.] + +AMERICAN. What's that? They goin' to pitch him after all? + + [The MOTHER, still hugging her BABY, who has stopped crying, + gazes at the LITTLE MAN, who sits dazedly looking up. Suddenly + she drops on her knees, and with her free hand lifts his booted + foot and kisses it.] + +AMERICAN. [Waving his hat] Ra! Ra! [He descends swiftly, goes up +to the LITTLE MAN, whose arm the POLICEMAN has dropped, and takes his +hand] Brother; I am proud to know you. This is one of the greatest +moments I have ever experienced. [Displaying the LITTLE MAN to the +assembled company] I think I sense the situation when I say that we +all esteem it an honour to breathe the rather inferior atmosphere of +this station here Along with our little friend. I guess we shall all +go home and treasure the memory of his face as the whitest thing in +our museum of recollections. And perhaps this good woman will also +go home and wash the face of our little brother here. I am inspired +with a new faith in mankind. Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to present +to you a sure-enough saint--only wants a halo, to be transfigured. +[To the LITTLE MAN] Stand right up. + + [The LITTLE MAN stands up bewildered. They come about him. The + OFFICIAL bows to him, the POLICEMAN salutes him. The DUTCH + YOUTH shakes his head and laughs. The GERMAN draws himself up + very straight, and bows quickly twice. The ENGLISHMAN and his + WIFE approach at least two steps, then, thinking better of it, + turn to each other and recede. The MOTHER kisses his hand. The + PORTER returning with the Sanitatsmachine, turns it on from + behind, and its pinkish shower, goldened by a ray of sunlight, + falls around the LITTLE MAN's head, transfiguring it as he + stands with eyes upraised to see whence the portent comes.] + +AMERICAN. [Rushing forward and dropping on his knees] Hold on just +a minute! Guess I'll take a snapshot of the miracle. [He adjusts +his pocket camera] This ought to look bully! + + + + +CURTAIN + + + + + + +FROM THE SERIES OF SIX SHORT PLAYS + + +Four of the SIX SHORT PLAYS + + +CONTENTS: + + HALL-MARKED + DEFEAT + THE SUN + PUNCH AND GO + + + + +HALL-MARKED + +A SATIRIC TRIFLE + + + +CHARACTERS + +HERSELF. +LADY ELLA. +THE SQUIRE. +THE MAID. +MAUD. +THE RECTOR. +THE DOCTOR. +THE CABMAN. +HANNIBAL and EDWARD + + + + + HALL-MARKED + + + The scene is the sitting-room and verandah of HER bungalow. + + The room is pleasant, and along the back, where the verandah + runs, it seems all window, both French and casement. There is a + door right and a door left. The day is bright; the time + morning. + + [HERSELF, dripping wet, comes running along the verandah, + through the French window, with a wet Scotch terrier in her + arms. She vanishes through the door left. A little pause, and + LADY ELLA comes running, dry, thin, refined, and agitated. She + halts where the tracks of water cease at the door left. A + little pause, and MAUD comes running, fairly dry, stolid, + breathless, and dragging a bull-dog, wet, breathless, and stout, + by the crutch end of her 'en-tout-cas']. + +LADY ELLA. Don't bring Hannibal in till I know where she's put +Edward! + +MAUD. [Brutally, to HANNIBAL] Bad dog! Bad dog! + + [HANNIBAL snuffles.] + +LADY ELLA. Maud, do take him out! Tie him up. Here! [She takes +out a lace handkerchief ] No--something stronger! Poor darling +Edward! [To HANNIBAL] You are a bad dog! + + [HANNIBAL snuffles.] + +MAUD. Edward began it, Ella. [To HANNIBAL] Bad dog! Bad dog! + + [HANNIBAL snuffles.] + +LADY ELLA. Tie him up outside. Here, take my scarf. Where is my +poor treasure? [She removes her scarf] Catch! His ear's torn; I +saw it. + +MAUD. [Taking the scarf, to HANNIBAL] Now! + + [HANNIBAL snuffles.] + + [She ties the scarf to his collar] + +He smells horrible. Bad dog--getting into ponds to fight! + +LADY ELLA. Tie him up, Maud. I must try in here. + + [Their husbands, THE SQUIRE and THE RECTOR, come hastening along + the verandah.] + +MAUD. [To THE RECTOR] Smell him, Bertie! [To THE SQUIRE] You +might have that pond drained, Squire! + + [She takes HANNIBAL out, and ties him to the verandah. THE + SQUIRE and RECTOR Come in. LADY ELLA is knocking on the door + left.] + +HER VOICE. All right! I've bound him up! + +LADY ELLA. May I come in? + +HER VOICE. Just a second! I've got nothing on. + + [LADY ELLA recoils. THE SQUIRE and RECTOR make an involuntary + movement of approach.] + +LADY ELLA. Oh! There you are! + +THE RECTOR. [Doubtfully] I was just going to wade in---- + +LADY ELLA. Hannibal would have killed him, if she hadn't rushed in! + +THE SQUIRE. Done him good, little beast! + +LADY ELLA. Why didn't you go in, Tommy? + +THE SQUIRE. Well, I would--only she---- + +LADY ELLA. I can't think how she got Edward out of Hannibal's awful +mouth! + +MAUD. [Without--to HANNIBAL, who is snuffling on the verandah and +straining at the scarf] Bad dog! + +LADY ELLA. We must simply thank her tremendously! I shall never +forget the way she ran in, with her skirts up to her waist! + +THE SQUIRE. By Jove! No. It was topping. + +LADY ELLA. Her clothes must be ruined. That pond--ugh! [She +wrinkles her nose] Tommy, do have it drained. + +THE RECTOR. [Dreamily] I don't remember her face in church. + +THE SQUIRE. Ah! Yes. Who is she? Pretty woman! + +LADY ELLA. I must get the Vet. to Edward. [To THE SQUIRE] Tommy, +do exert yourself! + + [MAUD re-enters.] + +THE SQUIRE. All right! [Exerting himself] Here's a bell! + +HER VOICE. [Through the door] The bleeding's stopped. Shall I send +him in to you? + +LADY ELLA. Oh, please! Poor darling! + + [They listen.] + + [LADY ELLA, prepares to receive EDWARD. THE SQUIRE and RECTOR + stand transfixed. The door opens, and a bare arm gently pushes + EDWARD forth. He is bandaged with a smooth towel. There is a + snuffle--HANNIBAL has broken the scarf, outside.] + +LADY ELLA. [Aghast] Look! Hannibal's loose! Maud--Tommy. [To THE +RECTOR] You! + + [The THREE rush to prevent HANNIBAL from re-entering.] + +LADY ELLA. [To EDWARD] Yes, I know--you'd like to! You SHALL bite +him when it's safe. Oh! my darling, you DO----[She sniffs]. + + [MAUD and THE SQUIRE re-enter.] + +Have you tied him properly this time? + +MAUD. With Bertie's braces. + +LADY ELLA. Oh! but---- + +MAUD. It's all right; they're almost leather. + + [THE RECTOR re-enters, with a slight look of insecurity.] + +LADY ELLA. Rector, are you sure it's safe? + +THE RECTOR. [Hitching at his trousers] No, indeed, LADY Ella--I---- + +LADY ELLA. Tommy, do lend a hand! + +THE SQUIRE. All right, Ella; all right! He doesn't mean what you +mean! + +LADY ELLA. [Transferring EDWARD to THE SQUIRE] Hold him, Tommy. +He's sure to smell out Hannibal! + +THE SQUIRE. [Taking EDWARD by the collar, and holding his own nose] +Jove! Clever if he can smell anything but himself. Phew! She ought +to have the Victoria Cross for goin' in that pond. + + [The door opens, and HERSELF appears; a fine, frank, handsome + woman, in a man's orange-coloured motor-coat, hastily thrown on + over the substrata of costume.] + +SHE. So very sorry--had to have a bath, and change, of course! + +LADY ELLA. We're so awfully grateful to you. It was splendid. + +MAUD. Quite. + +THE RECTOR. [Rather holding himself together] Heroic! I was just +myself about to---- + +THE SQUIRE. [Restraining EDWARD] Little beast will fight--must +apologise--you were too quick for me---- + + [He looks up at her. She is smiling, and regarding the wounded + dog, her head benevolently on one side.] + +SHE. Poor dears! They thought they were so safe in that nice pond! + +LADY ELLA. Is he very badly torn? + +SHE. Rather nasty. There ought to be a stitch or two put in his +ear. + +LADY ELLA. I thought so. Tommy, do---- + +THE SQUIRE. All right. Am I to let him go? + +LADY ELLA. No. + +MAUD. The fly's outside. Bertie, run and tell Jarvis to drive in +for the Vet. + +THE RECTOR. [Gentle and embarrassed] Run? Well, Maud--I---- + +SHE. The doctor would sew it up. My maid can go round. + + [HANNIBAL. appears at the open casement with the broken braces + dangling from his collar.] + +LADY ELLA. Look! Catch him! Rector! + +MAUD. Bertie! Catch him! + + [THE RECTOR seizes HANNIBAL, but is seen to be in difficulties + with his garments. HERSELF, who has gone out left, returns, + with a leather strop in one hand and a pair of braces in the + other.] + +SHE. Take this strop--he can't break that. And would these be any +good to you? + + [SHE hands the braces to MAUD and goes out on to the verandah + and hastily away. MAUD, transferring the braces to the RECTOR, + goes out, draws HANNIBAL from the casement window, and secures + him with the strap. THE RECTOR sits suddenly with the braces in + his hands. There is a moment's peace.] + +LADY ELLA. Splendid, isn't she? I do admire her. + +THE SQUIRE. She's all there. + +THE RECTOR. [Feelingly] Most kind. + + [He looks ruefully at the braces and at LADY ELLA. A silence. + MAUD reappears at the door and stands gazing at the braces.] + +THE SQUIRE. [Suddenly] Eh? + +MAUD. Yes. + +THE SQUIRE. [Looking at his wife] Ah! + +LADY ELLA. [Absorbed in EDWARD] Poor darling! + +THE SQUIRE. [Bluntly] Ella, the Rector wants to get up! + +THE RECTOR. [Gently] Perhaps--just for a moment---- + +LADY ELLA. Oh! [She turns to the wall.] + + [THE RECTOR, screened by his WIFE, retires on to the verandah to + adjust his garments.] + +THE SQUIRE. [Meditating] So she's married! + +LADY ELLA. [Absorbed in EDWARD] Why? + +THE SQUIRE. Braces. + +LADY ELLA. Oh! Yes. We ought to ask them to dinner, Tommy. + +THE SQUIRE. Ah! Yes. Wonder who they are? + + [THE RECTOR and MAUD reappear.] + +THE RECTOR. Really very good of her to lend her husband's--I was-- +er--quite---- + +MAUD. That'll do, Bertie. + + [THEY see HER returning along the verandah, followed by a sandy, + red-faced gentleman in leather leggings, with a needle and + cotton in his hand.] + +HERSELF. Caught the doctor just starting, So lucky! + +LADY ELLA. Oh! Thank goodness! + +DOCTOR. How do, Lady Ella? How do, Squire?--how do, Rector? [To +MAUD] How de do? This the beastie? I see. Quite! Who'll hold him +for me? + +LADY ELLA. Oh! I! + +HERSELF. D'you know, I think I'd better. It's so dreadful when it's +your own, isn't it? Shall we go in here, doctor? Come along, pretty +boy! + + [She takes EDWARD, and they pass into the room, left.] + +LADY ELLA. I dreaded it. She is splendid! + +THE SQUIRE. Dogs take to her. That's a sure sign. + +THE RECTOR. Little things--one can always tell. + +THE SQUIRE. Something very attractive about her--what! Fine build +of woman. + +MAUD. I shall get hold of her for parish work. + +THE RECTOR. Ah! Excellent--excellent! Do! + +THE SQUIRE. Wonder if her husband shoots? She seems +quite-er--quite---- + +LADY ELLA. [Watching the door] Quite! Altogether charming; one of +the nicest faces I ever saw. + + [THE DOCTOR comes out alone.] + +Oh! Doctor--have you? is it----? + +DOCTOR. Right as rain! She held him like an angel--he just licked +her, and never made a sound. + +LADY ELLA. Poor darling! Can I---- + + [She signs toward the door.] + +DOCTOR. Better leave 'em a minute. She's moppin' 'im off. [He +wrinkles his nose] Wonderful clever hands! + +THE SQUIRE. I say--who is she? + +DOCTOR. [Looking from face to face with a dubious and rather +quizzical expression] Who? Well--there you have me! All I know is +she's a first-rate nurse--been helpin' me with a case in Ditch Lane. +Nice woman, too--thorough good sort! Quite an acquisition here. +H'm! [Again that quizzical glance] Excuse me hurryin' off--very +late. Good-bye, Rector. Good-bye, Lady Ella. Good-bye! + + [He goes. A silence.] + +THE SQUIRE. H'm! I suppose we ought to be a bit careful. + + [JARVIS, flyman of the old school, has appeared on the + verandah.] + +JARVIS. [To THE RECTOR] Beg pardon, sir. Is the little dog all +right? + +MAUD. Yes. + +JARVIS. [Touching his hat] Seein' you've missed your train, m'm, +shall I wait, and take you 'ome again? + +MAUD. No. + +JARVIS. Cert'nly, m'm. [He touches his hat with a circular gesture, +and is about to withdraw.] + +LADY ELLA. Oh, Jarvis--what's the name of the people here? + +JARVIS. Challenger's the name I've driven 'em in, my lady. + +THE SQUIRE. Challenger? Sounds like a hound. What's he like? + +JARVIS. [Scratching his head] Wears a soft 'at, sir. + +THE SQUIRE. H'm! Ah! + +JARVIS. Very nice gentleman, very nice lady. 'Elped me with my old +mare when she 'ad the 'ighsteria last week--couldn't 'a' been kinder +if they'd 'a' been angels from 'eaven. Wonderful fond o' dumb +animals, the two of 'em. I don't pay no attention to gossip, meself. + +MAUD. Gossip? What gossip? + +JARVIS. [Backing] Did I make use of the word, m'm? You'll excuse +me, I'm sure. There's always talk where there's newcomers. I takes +people as I finds 'em. + + +THE RECTOR. Yes, yes, Jarvis--quite--quite right! + +JARVIS. Yes, sir. I've--I've got a 'abit that way at my time o' +life. + +MAUD. [Sharply] How long have they been here, Jarvis? + +JARVIS. Well---er--a matter of three weeks, m'm. + + [A slight involuntary stir.] + +[Apologetic] Of course, in my profession I can't afford to take +notice of whether there's the trifle of a ring between 'em, as the +sayin' is. 'Tisn't 'ardly my business like. + + [A silence.] + +LADY ELLA. [Suddenly] Er--thank you, Jarvis; you needn't wait. + +JARVIS. No, m'lady. Your service, sir--service, m'm. + + [He goes. A silence.] + +THE SQUIRE. [Drawing a little closer] Three weeks? I say--er-- +wasn't there a book? + +THE RECTOR. [Abstracted] Three weeks----I certainly haven't seen +them in church. + +MAUD. A trifle of a ring! + +LADY ELLA. [Impulsively] Oh, bother! I'm sure she's all right. +And if she isn't, I don't care. She's been much too splendid. + +THE SQUIRE. Must think of the village. Didn't quite like the +doctor's way of puttin' us off. + +LADY ELLA. The poor darling owes his life to her. + +THE SQUIRE. H'm! Dash it! Yes! Can't forget the way she ran into +that stinkin' pond. + +MAUD. Had she a wedding-ring on? + + [They look at each other, but no one knows.] + +LADY ELLA. Well, I'm not going to be ungrateful. + +THE SQUIRE. It'd be dashed awkward--mustn't take a false step, Ella. + +THE RECTOR. And I've got his braces! [He puts his hand to his +waist.] + +MAUD. [Warningly] Bertie! + +THE SQUIRE. That's all right, Rector--we're goin' to be perfectly +polite, and--and--thank her, and all that. + +LADY ELLA. We can see she's a good sort. What does it matter? + +MAUD. My dear Ella! "What does it matter!" We've got to know. + +THE RECTOR. We do want light. + +THE SQUIRE. I'll ring the bell. [He rings.] + + [They look at each other aghast.] + +LADY ELLA. What did you ring for, Tommy? + +THE SQUIRE. [Flabbergasted] God knows! + +MAUD. Somebody'll come. + +THE SQUIRE. Rector--you--you've got to---- + +MAUD. Yes, Bertie. + +THE RECTOR. Dear me! But--er--what--er----How? + +THE SQUIRE. [Deeply-to himself] The whole thing's damn delicate. + + [The door right is opened and a MAID appears. She is a + determined-looking female. They face her in silence.] + +THE RECTOR. Er--er----your master is not in? + +THE MAID. No. 'E's gone up to London. + +THE RECTOR. Er----Mr Challenger, I think? + +THE MAID. Yes. + +THE RECTOR. Yes! Er----quite so + +THE MAID. [Eyeing them] D'you want--Mrs Challenger? + +THE RECTOR. Ah! Not precisely---- + +THE SQUIRE. [To him in a low, determined voice] Go on. + +THE RECTOR. [Desperately] I asked because there was a--a--Mr. +Challenger I used to know in the 'nineties, and I thought--you +wouldn't happen to know how long they've been married? My friend +marr---- + +THE MAID. Three weeks. + +THE RECTOR. Quite so--quite so! I shall hope it will turn out to +be----Er--thank you--Ha! + +LADY ELLA. Our dog has been fighting with the Rector's, and Mrs +Challenger rescued him; she's bathing his ear. We're waiting to +thank her. You needn't---- + +THE MAID. [Eyeing them] No. + + [She turns and goes out.] + +THE SQUIRE. Phew! What a gorgon! I say, Rector, did you really +know a Challenger in the 'nineties? + +THE RECTOR. [Wiping his brow] No. + +THE SQUIRE. Ha! Jolly good! + +LADY ELLA. Well, you see!--it's all right. + +THE RECTOR. Yes, indeed. A great relief! + +LADY ELLA. [Moving to the door] I must go in now. + +THE SQUIRE. Hold on! You goin' to ask 'em to--to--anything? + +LADY ELLA. Yes. + +MAUD. I shouldn't. + +LADY ELLA. Why not? We all like the look of her. + +THE RECTOR. I think we should punish ourselves for entertaining that +uncharitable thought. + +LADY ELLA. Yes. It's horrible not having the courage to take people +as they are. + +THE SQUIRE. As they are? H'm! How can you till you know? + +LADY ELLA. Trust our instincts, of course. + +THE SQUIRE. And supposing she'd turned out not married--eh! + +LADY ELLA! She'd still be herself, wouldn't she? + +MAUD. Ella! + +THE SQUIRE. H'm! Don't know about that. + +LADY ELLA. Of course she would, Tommy. + +THE RECTOR. [His hand stealing to his waist] Well! It's a great +weight off my----! + +LADY ELLA. There's the poor darling snuffling. I must go in. + + [She knocks on the door. It is opened, and EDWARD comes out + briskly, with a neat little white pointed ear-cap on one ear.] + +LADY ELLA. Precious! + + [SHE HERSELF Comes out, now properly dressed in flax-blue + linen.] + +LADY ELLA. How perfectly sweet of you to make him that! + +SHE. He's such a dear. And the other poor dog? + +MAUD. Quite safe, thanks to your strop. + + [HANNIBAL appears at the window, with the broken strop dangling. + Following her gaze, they turn and see him.] + +MAUD. Oh! There, he's broken it. Bertie! + +SHE. Let me! [She seizes HANNIBAL.] + +THE SQUIRE. We're really most tremendously obliged to you. Afraid +we've been an awful nuisance. + +SHE. Not a bit. I love dogs. + +THE SQUIRE. Hope to make the acquaintance of Mr----of your husband. + +LADY ELLA. [To EDWARD, who is straining] + + [Gently, darling! Tommy, take him.] + + [THE SQUIRE does so.] + +MAUD. [Approaching HANNIBAL.] Is he behaving? + + [She stops short, and her face suddenly shoots forward at HER + hands that are holding HANNIBAL'S neck.] + +SHE. Oh! yes--he's a love. + +MAUD. [Regaining her upright position, and pursing her lips; in a +peculiar voice] Bertie, take Hannibal. + +THE RECTOR takes him. + +LADY ELLA. [Producing a card] I can't be too grateful for all +you've done for my poor darling. This is where we live. Do come-- +and see---- + + [MAUD, whose eyes have never left those hands, tweaks LADY + ELLA's dress.] + +LADY ELLA. That is--I'm--I---- + + [HERSELF looks at LADY ELLA in surprise.] + +THE SQUIRE. I don't know if your husband shoots, but if---- + + [MAUD, catching his eye, taps the third finger of her left + hand.] + +--er--he--does--er--er---- + + [HERSELF looks at THE SQUIRE surprised.] + +MAUD. [Turning to her husband, repeats the gesture with the low and +simple word] Look! + +THE RECTOR. [With round eyes, severely] Hannibal! [He lifts him +bodily and carries him away.] + +MAUD. Don't squeeze him, Bertie! + + [She follows through the French window.] + +THE SQUIRE. [Abruptly--of the unoffending EDWARD] That dog'll be +forgettin' himself in a minute. + + [He picks up EDWARD and takes him out.] + + [LADY ELLA is left staring.] + +LADY ELLA. [At last] You mustn't think, I----You mustn't think, we +----Oh! I must just see they--don't let Edward get at Hannibal. + + [She skims away.] + + [HERSELF is left staring after LADY ELLA, in surprise.] + +SHE. What is the matter with them? + + [The door is opened.] + +THE MAID. [Entering and holding out a wedding-ring--severely] You +left this, m'm, in the bathroom. + +SHE. [Looking, startled, at her finger] Oh! [Taking it] I hadn't +missed it. Thank you, Martha. + + [THE MAID goes.] + + [A hand, slipping in at the casement window, softly lays a pair + of braces on the windowsill. SHE looks at the braces, then at + the ring. HER lip curls.] + +Sue. [Murmuring deeply] Ah! + + + CURTAIN + + + + + + + +DEFEAT + +A TINY DRAMA + + + +CHARACTERS + +THE OFFICER. +THE GIRL. + + + DEFEAT + + During the Great War. Evening. + + + + An empty room. The curtains drawn and gas turned low. The + furniture and walls give a colour-impression as of greens and + beetroot. There is a prevalence of plush. A fireplace on the + Left, a sofa, a small table; the curtained window is at the + back. On the table, in a common pot, stands a little plant of + maidenhair fern, fresh and green. + + Enter from the door on the Right, a GIRL and a YOUNG OFFICER in + khaki. The GIRL wears a discreet dark dress, hat, and veil, and + stained yellow gloves. The YOUNG OFFICER is tall, with a fresh + open face, and kindly eager blue eyes; he is a little lame. The + GIRL, who is evidently at home, moves towards the gas jet to + turn it up, then changes her mind, and going to the curtains, + draws them apart and throws up the window. Bright moonlight + comes flooding in. Outside are seen the trees of a little + Square. She stands gazing out, suddenly turns inward with a + shiver. + +YOUNG OFF. I say; what's the matter? You were crying when I spoke +to you. + +GIRL. [With a movement of recovery] Oh! nothing. The beautiful +evening-that's all. + +YOUNG OFF. [Looking at her] Cheer up! + +GIRL. [Taking of hat and veil; her hair is yellowish and crinkly] +Cheer up! You are not lonelee, like me. + +YOUNG OFF. [Limping to the window--doubtfully] I say, how did you +how did you get into this? Isn't it an awfully hopeless sort of +life? + +GIRL. Yees, it ees. You haf been wounded? + +YOUNG OFF. Just out of hospital to-day. + +GIRL. The horrible war--all the misery is because of the war. When +will it end? + +YOUNG OFF. [Leaning against the window-sill, looking at her +attentively] I say, what nationality are you? + +GIRL. [With a quick look and away] Rooshian. + +YOUNG OFF. Really! I never met a Russian girl. [The GIRL gives him +another quick look] I say, is it as bad as they make out? + +GIRL. [Slipping her hand through his arm] Not when I haf anyone as +ni-ice as you; I never haf had, though. [She smiles, and her smile, +like her speech, is slow and confining] You stopped because I was +sad, others stop because I am gay. I am not fond of men at all. +When you know--you are not fond of them. + +YOUNG OFF. Well, you hardly know them at their best, do you? You +should see them in the trenches. By George! They're simply +splendid--officers and men, every blessed soul. There's never been +anything like it--just one long bit of jolly fine self-sacrifice; +it's perfectly amazing. + +GIRL. [Turning her blue-grey eyes on him] I expect you are not the +last at that. You see in them what you haf in yourself, I think. + +YOUNG OFF. Oh, not a bit; you're quite out! I assure you when we +made the attack where I got wounded there wasn't a single man in my +regiment who wasn't an absolute hero. The way they went in--never +thinking of themselves--it was simply ripping. + +GIRL. [In a queer voice] It is the same too, perhaps, with--the +enemy. + +YOUNG OFF. Oh, yes! I know that. + +GIRL. Ah! You are not a mean man. How I hate mean men! + +YOUNG OFF. Oh! they're not mean really--they simply don't +understand. + +GIRL. Oh! You are a babee--a good babee aren't you? + + [The YOUNG OFFICER doesn't like this, and frowns. The GIRL + looks a little scared.] + +GIRL. [Clingingly] But I li-ke you for it. It is so good to find a +ni-ice man. + +YOUNG OFF. [Abruptly] About being lonely? Haven't you any Russian +friends? + +GIRL. [Blankly] Rooshian? No. [Quickly] The town is so beeg. +Were you at the concert before you spoke to me? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes. + +GIRL. I too. I lofe music. + +YOUNG OFF. I suppose all Russians do. + +GIRL. [With another quick look tat him] I go there always when I +haf the money. + +YOUNG OFF. What! Are you as badly on the rocks as that? + +GIRL. Well, I haf just one shilling now! + + [She laughs bitterly. The laugh upsets him; he sits on the + window-sill, and leans forward towards her.] + +YOUNG OFF. I say, what's your name? + +GIRL. May. Well, I call myself that. It is no good asking yours. + +YOUNG OFF. [With a laugh] You're a distrustful little soul; aren't +you? + +GIRL. I haf reason to be, don't you think? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes. I suppose you're bound to think us all brutes. + +GIRL. [Sitting on a chair close to the window where the moonlight +falls on one powdered cheek] Well, I haf a lot of reasons to be +afraid all my time. I am dreadfully nervous now; I am not trusding +anybody. I suppose you haf been killing lots of Germans? + +YOUNG OFF. We never know, unless it happens to be hand to hand; I +haven't come in for that yet. + +GIRL. But you would be very glad if you had killed some. + +YOUNG OFF. Oh, glad? I don't think so. We're all in the same boat, +so far as that's concerned. We're not glad to kill each other--not +most of us. We do our job--that's all. + +GIRL. Oh! It is frightful. I expect I haf my brothers killed. + +YOUNG OFF. Don't you get any news ever? + +GIRL. News? No indeed, no news of anybody in my country. I might +not haf a country; all that I ever knew is gone; fader, moder, +sisters, broders, all; never any more I shall see them, I suppose, +now. The war it breaks and breaks, it breaks hearts. [She gives a +little snarl] Do you know what I was thinking when you came up to +me? I was thinking of my native town, and the river in the +moonlight. If I could see it again I would be glad. Were you ever +homeseeck? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes, I have been--in the trenches. But one's ashamed +with all the others. + +GIRL. Ah! Yees! Yees! You are all comrades there. What is it +like for me here, do you think, where everybody hates and despises +me, and would catch me and put me in prison, perhaps. [Her breast +heaves.] + +YOUNG OFF. [Leaning forward and patting her knee] Sorry--sorry. + +GIRL. [In a smothered voice] You are the first who has been kind to +me for so long! I will tell you the truth--I am not Rooshian at all +--I am German. + +YOUNG OFF. [Staring] My dear girl, who cares. We aren't fighting +against women. + +GIRL. [Peering at him] Another man said that to me. But he was +thinkin' of his fun. You are a veree ni-ice boy; I am so glad I met +you. You see the good in people, don't you? That is the first thing +in the world--because--there is really not much good in people, you +know. + +YOUNG OFF. [Smiling] You are a dreadful little cynic! But of +course you are! + +GIRL. Cyneec? How long do you think I would live if I was not a +cyneec? I should drown myself to-morrow. Perhaps there are good +people, but, you see, I don't know them. + +YOUNG OFF. I know lots. + +GIRL. [Leaning towards him] Well now--see, ni-ice boy--you haf +never been in a hole, haf you? + +YOUNG OFF. I suppose not a real hole. + +GIRL. No, I should think not, with your face. Well, suppose I am +still a good girl, as I was once, you know; and you took me to your +mother and your sisters and you said: "Here is a little German girl +that has no work, and no money, and no friends." They will say: "Oh! +how sad! A German girl!" And they will go and wash their hands. + + [The OFFICER, is silent, staring at her.] + +GIRL. You see. + +YOUNG OFF. [Muttering] I'm sure there are people. + +GIRL. No. They would not take a German, even if she was good. +Besides, I don't want to be good any more--I am not a humbug; I have +learned to be bad. Aren't you going to kees me, ni-ice boy? + +She puts her face close to his. Her eyes trouble him; he draws back. + +YOUNG OFF. Don't. I'd rather not, if you don't mind. [She looks at +him fixedly, with a curious inquiring stare] It's stupid. I don't +know--but you see, out there, and in hospital, life's different. +It's--it's--it isn't mean, you know. Don't come too close. + +GIRL. Oh! You are fun----[She stops] Eesn't it light. No Zeps +to-night. When they burn--what a 'orrble death! And all the people +cheer. It is natural. Do you hate us veree much? + +YOUNG OFF. [Turning sharply] Hate? I don't know. + +GIRL. I don't hate even the English--I despise them. I despise my +people too; even more, because they began this war. Oh! I know that. +I despise all the peoples. Why haf they made the world so miserable +--why haf they killed all our lives--hundreds and thousands and +millions of lives--all for noting? They haf made a bad world-- +everybody hating, and looking for the worst everywhere. They haf +made me bad, I know. I believe no more in anything. What is there +to believe in? Is there a God? No! Once I was teaching little +English children their prayers--isn't that funnee? I was reading to +them about Christ and love. I believed all those things. Now I +believe noting at all--no one who is not a fool or a liar can +believe. I would like to work in a 'ospital; I would like to go and +'elp poor boys like you. Because I am a German they would throw me +out a 'undred times, even if I was good. It is the same in Germany, +in France, in Russia, everywhere. But do you think I will believe in +Love and Christ and God and all that--Not I! I think we are animals +--that's all! Oh, yes! you fancy it is because my life has spoiled +me. It is not that at all--that is not the worst thing in life. The +men I take are not ni-ice, like you, but it's their nature; and--they +help me to live, which is something for me, anyway. No, it is the +men who think themselves great and good and make the war with their +talk and their hate, killing us all--killing all the boys like you, +and keeping poor People in prison, and telling us to go on hating; +and all these dreadful cold-blood creatures who write in the papers +--the same in my country--just the same; it is because of all of them +that I think we are only animals. + + [The YOUNG OFFICER gets up, acutely miserable.] + + [She follows him with her eyes.] + +GIRL. Don't mind me talkin', ni-ice boy. I don't know anyone to +talk to. If you don't like it, I can be quiet as a mouse. + +YOUNG OFF. Oh, go on! Talk away; I'm not obliged to believe you, +and I don't. + + [She, too, is on her feet now, leaning against the wall; her + dark dress and white face just touched by the slanting + moonlight. Her voice comes again, slow and soft and bitter.] + +GIRL. Well, look here, ni-ice boy, what sort of world is it, where +millions are being tortured, for no fault of theirs, at all? A +beautiful world, isn't it? 'Umbog! Silly rot, as you boys call it. +You say it is all "Comrades" and braveness out there at the front, +and people don't think of themselves. Well, I don't think of myself +veree much. What does it matter? I am lost now, anyway. But I +think of my people at 'ome; how they suffer and grieve. I think of +all the poor people there, and here, how lose those they love, and +all the poor prisoners. Am I not to think of them? And if I do, how +am I to believe it a beautiful world, ni-ice boy? + + [He stands very still, staring at her.] + +GIRL. Look here! We haf one life each, and soon it is over. Well, +I think that is lucky. + +YOUNG OFF. No! There's more than that. + +GIRL. [Softly] Ah! You think the war is fought for the future; you +are giving your lives for a better world, aren't you? + +YOUNG OFF. We must fight till we win. + +GIRL. Till you win. My people think that too. All the peoples +think that if they win the world will be better. But it will not, +you know; it will be much worse, anyway. + + [He turns away from her, and catches up his cap. Her voice + follows him.] + +GIRL. I don't care which win. I don't care if my country is beaten. +I despise them all--animals--animals. Ah! Don't go, ni-ice boy; I +will be quiet now. + + [He has taken some notes from his tunic pocket; he puts then on + the table and goes up to her.] + +YOUNG OFF. Good-night. + +GIRL. [Plaintively] Are you really going? Don't you like me +enough? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes, I like you. + +GIRL. It is because I am German, then? + +YOUNG OFF. No. + +GIRL. Then why won't you stay? + +YOUNG OFF. [With a shrug] If you must know--because you upset me. + +GIRL. Won't you kees me once? + + [He bends, puts his lips to her forehead. But as he takes them + away she throws her head back, presses her mouth to his, and + clings to him.] + +YOUNG OFF. [Sitting down suddenly] Don't! I don't want to feel a +brute. + +GIRL. [Laughing] You are a funny boy; but you are veree good. Talk +to me a little, then. No one talks to me. Tell me, haf you seen +many German prisoners? + +YOUNG OFF. [Sighing] A good many. + +GIRL. Any from the Rhine? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes, I think so. + +GIRL. Were they veree sad? + +YOUNG OFF. Some were; some were quite glad to be taken. + +GIRL. Did you ever see the Rhine? It will be wonderful to-night. +The moonlight will be the same there, and in Rooshia too, and France, +everywhere; and the trees will look the same as here, and people will +meet under them and make love just as here. Oh! isn't it stupid, the +war? As if it were not good to be alive! + +YOUNG OFF. You can't tell how good it is to be alive till you're +facing death. You don't live till then. And when a whole lot of you +feel like that--and are ready to give their lives for each other, +it's worth all the rest of life put together. + + [He stops, ashamed of such, sentiment before this girl, who + believes in nothing.] + +GIRL. [Softly] How were you wounded, ni-ice boy? + +YOUNG OFF. Attacking across open ground: four machine bullets got me +at one go off. + +GIRL. Weren't you veree frightened when they ordered you to attack? + + [He shakes his head and laughs.] + +YOUNG OFF. It was great. We did laugh that morning. They got me +much too soon, though--a swindle. + +GIRL. [Staring at him] You laughed? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes. And what do you think was the first thing I was +conscious of next morning? My old Colonel bending over me and giving +me a squeeze of lemon. If you knew my Colonel you'd still believe in +things. There is something, you know, behind all this evil. After +all, you can only die once, and, if it's for your country--all the +better! + + [Her face, in the moonlight, with, intent eyes touched up with + black, has a most strange, other-world look.] + +GIRL. No; I believe in nothing, not even in my country. My heart is +dead. + +YOUNG OFF. Yes; you think so, but it isn't, you know, or you +wouldn't have 'been crying when I met you. + +GIRL. If it were not dead, do you think I could live my life-walking +the streets every night, pretending to like strange men; never +hearing a kind word; never talking, for fear I will be known for a +German? Soon I shall take to drinking; then I shall be "Kaput" veree +quick. You see, I am practical; I see things clear. To-night I am a +little emotional; the moon is funny, you know. But I live for myself +only, now. I don't care for anything or anybody. + +YOUNG OFF. All the same; just now you were pitying your folk at +home, and prisoners and that. + +GIRL. Yees; because they suffer. Those who suffer are like me--I +pity myself, that's all; I am different from your English women. I +see what I am doing; I do not let my mind become a turnip just +because I am no longer moral. + +YOUNG OFF. Nor your heart either, for all you say. + +GIRL. Ni-ice boy, you are veree obstinate. But all that about love +is 'umbog. We love ourselves, noting more. + + At that intense soft bitterness in her voice, he gets up, + feeling stifled, and stands at the window. A newspaper boy some + way off is calling his wares. The GIRL's fingers slip between + his own, and stay unmoving. He looks round into her face. In + spite of make-up it has a queer, unholy, touching beauty. + +YOUNG OFF. [With an outburst] No; we don't only love ourselves; +there is more. I can't explain, but there's something great; there's +kindness--and--and----- + + [The shouting of newspaper boys grows louder and their cries, + passionately vehement, clash into each other and obscure each + word. His head goes up to listen; her hand tightens within his + arm--she too is listening. The cries come nearer, hoarser, more + shrill and clamorous; the empty moonlight outside seems suddenly + crowded with figures, footsteps, voices, and a fierce distant + cheering. "Great victory--great victory! Official! British! + 'Eavy defeat of the 'Uns! Many thousand prisoners! 'Eavy + defeat!" It speeds by, intoxicating, filling him with a fearful + joy; he leans far out, waving his cap and cheering like a + madman; the night seems to flutter and vibrate and answer. He + turns to rush down into the street, strikes against something + soft, and recoils. The GIRL stands with hands clenched, and + face convulsed, panting. All confused with the desire to do + something, he stoops to kiss her hand. She snatches away her + fingers, sweeps up the notes he has put down, and holds them out + to him.] + +GIRL. Take them--I will not haf your English money--take them. + + Suddenly she tears them across, twice, thrice, lets the bits. + flutter to the floor, and turns her back on him. He stands + looking at her leaning against the plush-covered table, her head + down, a dark figure in a dark room, with the moonlight + sharpening her outline. Hardly a moment he stays, then makes + for the door. When he is gone, she still stands there, her chin + on her breast, with the sound in her ears of cheering, of + hurrying feet, and voices crying: "'Eavy Defeat!" stands, in the + centre of a pattern made by the fragments of the torn-up notes, + staring out unto the moonlight, seeing not this hated room and + the hated Square outside, but a German orchard, and herself, a + little girl, plucking apples, a big dog beside her; and a + hundred other pictures, such as the drowning see. Then she + sinks down on the floor, lays her forehead on the dusty carpet, + and presses her body to it. Mechanically, she sweeps together + the scattered fragments of notes, assembling them with the dust + into a little pile, as of fallen leaves, and dabbling in it with + her fingers, while the tears run down her cheeks. + +GIRL. Defeat! Der Vaterland! Defeat! . . . One shillin'! + + [Then suddenly, in the moonlight, she sits up, and begins to + sing with all her might "Die Wacht am Rhein." And outside men + pass, singing: "Rule, Britannia!"] + + + CURTAIN + + + + + + + +THE SUN + +A SCENE + + + + +CHARACTERS + +THE GIRL. +THE MAN. +THE SOLDIER. + + + THE SUN + + A Girl, sits crouched over her knees on a stile close to a + river. A MAN with a silver badge stands beside her, clutching + the worn top plank. THE GIRL'S level brows are drawn together; + her eyes see her memories. THE MAN's eyes see THE GIRL; he has + a dark, twisted face. The bright sun shines; the quiet river + flows; the Cuckoo is calling; the mayflower is in bloom along + the hedge that ends in the stile on the towing-path. + +THE GIRL. God knows what 'e'll say, Jim. + +THE MAN. Let 'im. 'E's come too late, that's all. + +THE GIRL. He couldn't come before. I'm frightened. 'E was fond o' +me. + +THE MAN. And aren't I fond of you? + +THE GIRL. I ought to 'a waited, Jim; with 'im in the fightin'. + +THE MAN. [Passionately] And what about me? Aren't I been in the +fightin'--earned all I could get? + +THE GIRL. [Touching him] Ah! + +THE MAN. Did you--? [He cannot speak the words.] + +THE GIRL. Not like you, Jim--not like you. + +THE MAN. Have a spirit, then. + +THE GIRL. I promised him. + +THE MAN. One man's luck's another's poison. + +THE GIRL. I ought to 'a waited. I never thought he'd come back from +the fightin'. + +THE MAN. [Grimly] Maybe 'e'd better not 'ave. + +THE GIRL. [Looking back along the tow-path] What'll he be like, I +wonder? + +THE MAN. [Gripping her shoulder] Daisy, don't you never go back on +me, or I should kill you, and 'im too. + + [THE GIRL looks at him, shivers, and puts her lips to his.] + +THE GIRL. I never could. + +THE MAN. Will you run for it? 'E'd never find us! + + [THE GIRL shakes her head.] + +THE MAN [Dully] What's the good o' stayin'? The world's wide. + +THE GIRL. I'd rather have it off me mind, with him home. + +THE MAN. [Clenching his hands] It's temptin' Providence. + +THE GIRL. What's the time, Jim? + +THE MAN. [Glancing at the sun] 'Alf past four. + +THE GIRL. [Looking along the towing-path] He said four o'clock. +Jim, you better go. + +THE MAN. Not I. I've not got the wind up. I've seen as much of +hell as he has, any day. What like is he? + +THE GIRL. [Dully] I dunno, just. I've not seen him these three +years. I dunno no more, since I've known you. + +THE MAN. Big or little chap? + +THE GIRL. 'Bout your size. Oh! Jim, go along! + +THE MAN. No fear! What's a blighter like that to old Fritz's +shells? We didn't shift when they was comin'. If you'll go, I'll +go; not else. + + [Again she shakes her head.] + +THE GIRL. Jim, do you love me true? + + [For answer THE MAN takes her avidly in his arms.] + +I ain't ashamed--I ain't ashamed. If 'e could see me 'eart. + +THE MAN. Daisy! If I'd known you out there, I never could 'a stuck +it. They'd 'a got me for a deserter. That's how I love you! + +THE GIRL. Jim, don't lift your hand to 'im! Promise! + +THE MAN. That's according. + +THE GIRL. Promise! + +THE MAN. If 'e keeps quiet, I won't. But I'm not accountable--not +always, I tell you straight--not since I've been through that. + +THE GIRL. [With a shiver] Nor p'raps he isn't. + +THE MAN. Like as not. It takes the lynch pins out, I tell you. + +THE GIRL. God 'elp us! + +THE MAN. [Grimly] Ah! We said that a bit too often. What we want +we take, now; there's no one else to give it us, and there's no +fear'll stop us; we seen the bottom of things. + +THE GIRL. P'raps he'll say that too. + +THE MAN. Then it'll be 'im or me. + +THE GIRL. I'm frightened: + +THE MAN. [Tenderly] No, Daisy, no! The river's handy. One more or +less. 'E shan't 'arm you; nor me neither. [He takes out a knife.] + +THE GIRL. [Seizing his hand] Oh, no! Give it to me, Jim! + +THE MAN. [Smiling] No fear! [He puts it away] Shan't 'ave no need +for it like as not. All right, little Daisy; you can't be expected +to see things like what we do. What's life, anyway? I've seen a +thousand lives taken in five minutes. I've seen dead men on the +wires like flies on a flypaper. I've been as good as dead meself a +hundred times. I've killed a dozen men. It's nothin'. He's safe, +if 'e don't get my blood up. If he does, nobody's safe; not 'im, nor +anybody else; not even you. I'm speakin' sober. + +THE GIRL. [Softly] Jim, you won't go fightin' in the sun, with the +birds all callin'? + +THE MAN. That depends on 'im. I'm not lookin' for it. Daisy, I +love you. I love your hair. I love your eyes. I love you. + +THE GIRL. And I love you, Jim. I don't want nothin' more than you +in all the world. + +THE MAN. Amen to that, my dear. Kiss me close! + + The sound of a voice singing breaks in on their embrace. THE + GIRL starts from his arms, and looks behind her along the + towing-path. THE MAN draws back against, the hedge, fingering + his side, where the knife is hidden. The song comes nearer. + + + "I'll be right there to-night, + Where the fields are snowy white; + Banjos ringing, darkies singing, + All the world seems bright." + +THE GIRL. It's him! + +THE MAN. Don't get the wind up, Daisy. I'm here! + + [The singing stops. A man's voice says "Christ! It's Daisy; + it's little Daisy 'erself!" THE GIRL stands rigid. The figure + of a soldier appears on the other side of the stile. His cap is + tucked into his belt, his hair is bright in the sunshine; he is + lean, wasted, brown, and laughing.] + +SOLDIER. Daisy! Daisy! Hallo, old pretty girl! + + [THE GIRL does not move, barring the way, as it were.] + +THE GIRL. Hallo, Jack! [Softly] I got things to tell you! + +SOLDIER. What sort o' things, this lovely day? Why, I got things +that'd take me years to tell. Have you missed me, Daisy? + +THE GIRL. You been so long. + +SOLDIER. So I 'ave. My Gawd! It's a way they 'ave in the Army. I +said when I got out of it I'd laugh. Like as the sun itself I used +to think of you, Daisy, when the trumps was comin' over, and the wind +was up. D'you remember that last night in the wood? "Come back and +marry me quick, Jack." Well, here I am--got me pass to heaven. No +more fightin', no more drillin', no more sleepin' rough. We can get +married now, Daisy. We can live soft an' 'appy. Give us a kiss, my +dear. + +THE GIRL. [Drawing back] No. + +SOLDIER. [Blankly] Why not? + + [THE MAN, with a swift movement steps along the hedge to THE + GIRL'S side.] + +THE MAN. That's why, soldier. + +SOLDIER. [Leaping over the stile] 'Oo are you, Pompey? The sun +don't shine in your inside, do it? 'Oo is he, Daisy? + +THE GIRL. My man. + +SOLDIER. Your-man! Lummy! "Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a +thief!" Well, mate! So you've been through it, too. I'm laughin' +this mornin' as luck will 'ave it. Ah! I can see your knife. + +THE MAN. [Who has half drawn his knife] Don't laugh at me, I tell +you. + +SOLDIER. Not at you, not at you. [He looks from one to the other] +I'm laughin' at things in general. Where did you get it, mate? + +THE MAN. [Watchfully] Through the lung. + +SOLDIER. Think o' that! An' I never was touched. Four years an' +never was touched. An' so you've come an' took my girl! Nothin' +doin'! Ha! [Again he looks from one to the other-then away] Well! +The world's before me! [He laughs] I'll give you Daisy for a lung +protector. + +THE MAN. [Fiercely] You won't. I've took her. + +SOLDIER. That's all right, then. You keep 'er. I've got a laugh in +me you can't put out, black as you look! Good-bye, little Daisy! + + [THE GIRL makes a movement towards him.] + +THE MAN. Don't touch 'im! + + [THE GIRL stands hesitating, and suddenly bursts into tears.] + +SOLDIER. Look 'ere, mate; shake 'ands! I don't want to see a girl +cry, this day of all, with the sun shinin'. I seen too much of +sorrer. You and me've been at the back of it. We've 'ad our whack. +Shake! + +THE MAN. Who are you kiddin'? You never loved 'er! + +SOLDIER. [After a long moment's pause] Oh! I thought I did. + +THE MAN. I'll fight you for her. + + [He drops his knife. ] + +SOLDIER. [Slowly] Mate, you done your bit, an' I done mine. It's +took us two ways, seemin'ly. + +THE GIRL. [Pleading] Jim! + +THE MAN. [With clenched fists] I don't want 'is charity. I only +want what I can take. + +SOLDIER. Daisy, which of us will you 'ave? + +THE GIRL. [Covering her face] Oh! Him! + +SOLDIER. You see, mate! Put your 'ands down. There's nothin' for +it but a laugh. You an' me know that. Laugh, mate! + +THE MAN. You blarsted----! + + [THE GIRL springs to him and stops his mouth.] + +SOLDIER. It's no use, mate. I can't do it. I said I'd laugh +to-day, and laugh I will. I've come through that, an' all the stink +of it; I've come through sorrer. Never again! Cheerio, mate! The +sun's a-shinin'! He turns away. + +THE GIRL. Jack, don't think too 'ard of me! + +SOLDIER. [Looking back] No fear, my dear! Enjoy your fancy! So +long! Gawd bless you both! + +He sings, and goes along the path, and the song fades away. + + "I'll be right there to-night + Where the fields are snowy white; + Banjos ringing, darkies singing + All the world seems bright!" + + + +THE MAN. 'E's mad! + +THE GIRL. [Looking down the path with her hands clasped] The sun has +touched 'im, Jim! + + + CURTAIN + + + + + + +PUNCH AND GO + +A LITTLE COMEDY + +"Orpheus with his lute made trees +And the mountain tope that freeze....." + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JAMES G. FRUST ..............The Boss +E. BLEWITT VANE .............The Producer +MR. FORESON .................The Stage Manager +"ELECTRICS"..................The Electrician +"PROPS" .....................The Property Man +HERBERT .....................The Call Boy + + + + +OF THE PLAY WITHIN THE PLAY + +GUY TOONE ...................The Professor +VANESSA HELLGROVE ...........The Wife +GEORGE FLEETWAY .............Orpheus +MAUDE HOPKINS ...............The Faun + + + + +SCENE: The Stage of a Theatre. + +Action continuous, though the curtain is momentarily lowered +according to that action. + + + + PUNCH AND GO + + The Scene is the stage of the theatre set for the dress + rehearsal of the little play: "Orpheus with his Lute." The + curtain is up and the audience, though present, is not supposed + to be. The set scene represents the end section of a room, with + wide French windows, Back Centre, fully opened on to an apple + orchard in bloom. The Back Wall with these French windows, is + set only about ten feet from the footlights, and the rest of the + stage is orchard. What is visible of the room would indicate + the study of a writing man of culture. ( Note.--If found + advantageous for scenic purposes, this section of room can be + changed to a broad verandah or porch with pillars supporting its + roof.) In the wall, Stage Left, is a curtained opening, across + which the curtain is half drawn. Stage Right of the French + windows is a large armchair turned rather towards the window, + with a book rest attached, on which is a volume of the + Encyclopedia Britannica, while on a stool alongside are writing + materials such as a man requires when he writes with a pad on + his knees. On a little table close by is a reading-lamp with a + dark green shade. A crude light from the floats makes the stage + stare; the only person on it is MR FORESON, the stage manager, + who is standing in the centre looking upwards as if waiting for + someone to speak. He is a short, broad man, rather blank, and + fatal. From the back of the auditorium, or from an empty box, + whichever is most convenient, the producer, MR BLEWITT VANE, a + man of about thirty four, with his hair brushed back, speaks. + +VANE. Mr Foreson? + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. We'll do that lighting again. + + [FORESON walks straight of the Stage into the wings Right.] + + [A pause.] + +Mr Foreson! [Crescendo] Mr Foreson. + + [FORESON walks on again from Right and shades his eyes.] + +VANE. For goodness sake, stand by! We'll do that lighting again. +Check your floats. + +FORESON. [Speaking up into the prompt wings] Electrics! + +VOICE OF ELECTRICS. Hallo! + +FORESON. Give it us again. Check your floats. + + [The floats go down, and there is a sudden blinding glare of + blue lights, in which FORESON looks particularly ghastly.] + +VANE. Great Scott! What the blazes! Mr Foreson! + + [FORESON walks straight out into the wings Left. Crescendo.] + +Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. Tell Miller to come down. + +FORESON. Electrics! Mr Blewitt Vane wants to speak to you. Come +down! + +VANE. Tell Herbert to sit in that chair. + + [FORESON walks straight out into the Right wings.] + +Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. Don't go off the stage. [FORESON mutters.] + + [ELECTRICS appears from the wings, Stage Left. He is a dark, + thin-faced man with rather spikey hair.] + +ELECTRICS. Yes, Mr Vane? + +VANE. Look! + +ELECTRICS. That's what I'd got marked, Mr Vane. + +VANE. Once for all, what I want is the orchard in full moonlight, +and the room dark except for the reading lamp. Cut off your front +battens. + + [ELECTRICS withdraws Left. FORESON walks off the Stage into the + Right wings.] + +Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. See this marked right. Now, come on with it! I want to get +some beauty into this! + + [While he is speaking, HERBERT, the call boy, appears from the + wings Right, a mercurial youth of about sixteen with a wide + mouth.] + +FORESON. [Maliciously] Here you are, then, Mr Vane. Herbert, sit +in that chair. + + [HERBERT sits an the armchair, with an air of perfect peace.] + +VANE. Now! [All the lights go out. In a wail] Great Scott! + + [A throaty chuckle from FORESON in the darkness. The light + dances up, flickers, shifts, grows steady, falling on the + orchard outside. The reading lamp darts alight and a piercing + little glare from it strikes into the auditorium away from + HERBERT.] + +[In a terrible voice] Mr Foreson. + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Look--at--that--shade! + + [FORESON mutters, walks up to it and turns it round so that the + light shines on HERBERT'S legs.] + +On his face, on his face! + + [FORESON turns the light accordingly.] + +FORESON. Is that what you want, Mr Vane? + +VANE. Yes. Now, mark that! + +FORESON. [Up into wings Right] Electrics! + +ELECTRICS. Hallo! + +FORESON. Mark that! + +VANE. My God! + + [The blue suddenly becomes amber.] + + [The blue returns. All is steady. HERBERT is seen diverting + himself with an imaginary cigar.] + +Mr Foreson. + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Ask him if he's got that? + +FORESON. Have you got that? + +ELECTRICS. Yes. + +VANE. Now pass to the change. Take your floats off altogether. + +FORESON. [Calling up] Floats out. [They go out.] + +VANE. Cut off that lamp. [The lamp goes out] Put a little amber in +your back batten. Mark that! Now pass to the end. Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Black out + +FORESON. [Calling up] Black out! + + [The lights go out.] + +VANE. Give us your first lighting-lamp on. And then the two +changes. Quick as you can. Put some pep into it. Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Stand for me where Miss Hellgrove comes in. FORESON crosses +to the window. No, no!--by the curtain. + + [FORESON takes his stand by the curtain; and suddenly the three + lighting effects are rendered quickly and with miraculous + exactness.] + +Good! Leave it at that. We'll begin. Mr Foreson, send up to Mr +Frust. + + [He moves from the auditorium and ascends on to the Stage, by + some steps Stage Right.] + +FORESON. Herb! Call the boss, and tell beginners to stand by. +Sharp, now! + + [HERBERT gets out of the chair, and goes off Right.] + + [FORESON is going off Left as VANE mounts the Stage.] + +VANE. Mr Foreson. + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. I want "Props." + +FORESON. [In a stentorian voice] "Props!" + + [Another moth-eaten man appears through the French windows.] + +VANE. Is that boulder firm? + +PROPS. [Going to where, in front of the back-cloth, and apparently +among its apple trees, lies the counterfeitment of a mossy boulder; +he puts his foot on it] If, you don't put too much weight on it, +sir. + +VANE. It won't creak? + +PROPS. Nao. [He mounts on it, and a dolorous creaking arises.] + +VANE. Make that right. Let me see that lute. + + [PROPS produces a property lute. While they scrutinize it, a + broad man with broad leathery clean-shaven face and small mouth, + occupied by the butt end of a cigar, has come on to the stage + from Stage Left, and stands waiting to be noticed.] + +PROPS. [Attracted by the scent of the cigar] The Boss, Sir. + +VANE. [Turning to "PROPS"] That'll do, then. + + ["PROPS" goes out through the French windows.] + +VANE. [To FRUST] Now, sir, we're all ready for rehearsal of +"Orpheus with his Lute." + +FRUST. [In a cosmopolitan voice] "Orphoos with his loot!" That his +loot, Mr Vane? Why didn't he pinch something more precious? Has +this high-brow curtain-raiser of yours got any "pep" in it? + +VANE. It has charm. + +FRUST. I'd thought of "Pop goes the Weasel" with little Miggs. We +kind of want a cock-tail before "Louisa loses," Mr Vane. + +VANE. Well, sir, you'll see. + +FRUST. This your lighting? It's a bit on the spiritool side. I've +left my glass. Guess I'll sit in the front row. Ha'f a minute. Who +plays this Orphoos? + +VANE. George Fleetway. + +FRUST. Has he got punch? + +VANE. It's a very small part. + +FRUST. Who are the others? + +VANE. Guy Toone plays the Professor; Vanessa Hellgrove his wife; +Maude Hopkins the faun. + +FRUST. H'm! Names don't draw. + +VANE. They're not expensive, any of them. Miss Hellgrove's a find, +I think. + +FRUST. Pretty? + +VANE. Quite. + +FRUST. Arty? + +VANE. [Doubtfully] No. [With resolution] Look here, Mr FRUST, +it's no use your expecting another "Pop goes the Weasel." + +FRUST. We-ell, if it's got punch and go, that'll be enough for me. +Let's get to it! + + [He extinguishes his cigar and descends the steps and sits in + the centre of the front row of the stalls.] + +VANE. Mr Foreson? + +FORESON. [Appearing through curtain, Right] Sir? + +VANE. Beginners. Take your curtain down. + + [He descends the steps and seats himself next to FRUST. The + curtain goes down.] + + [A woman's voice is heard singing very beautifully Sullivan's + song: "Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees and the + mountain tops that freeze'." etc.] + +FRUST. Some voice! + + The curtain rises. In the armchair the PROFESSOR is yawning, + tall, thin, abstracted, and slightly grizzled in the hair. He + has a pad of paper over his knee, ink on the stool to his right + and the Encyclopedia volume on the stand to his left-barricaded + in fact by the article he is writing. He is reading a page over + to himself, but the words are drowned in the sound of the song + his WIFE is singing in the next room, partly screened off by the + curtain. She finishes, and stops. His voice can then be heard + conning the words of his article. + +PROF. "Orpheus symbolized the voice of Beauty, the call of life, +luring us mortals with his song back from the graves we dig for +ourselves. Probably the ancients realized this neither more nor less +than we moderns. Mankind has not changed. The civilized being still +hides the faun and the dryad within its broadcloth and its silk. And +yet"--[He stops, with a dried-up air-rather impatiently] Go on, my +dear! It helps the atmosphere. + + [The voice of his WIFE begins again, gets as far as "made them + sing" and stops dead, just as the PROFESSOR's pen is beginning + to scratch. And suddenly, drawing the curtain further aside] + + [SHE appears. Much younger than the PROFESSOR, pale, very + pretty, of a Botticellian type in face, figure, and in her + clinging cream-coloured frock. She gazes at her abstracted + husband; then swiftly moves to the lintel of the open window, + and stands looking out.] + +THE WIFE. God! What beauty! + +PROF. [Looking Up] Umm? + +THE WIFE. I said: God! What beauty! + +PROF. Aha! + +THE WIFE. [Looking at him] Do you know that I have to repeat +everything to you nowadays? + +PROF. What? + +THE WIFE. That I have to repeat---- + +PROF. Yes; I heard. I'm sorry. I get absorbed. + +THE WIFE. In all but me. + +PROF. [Startled] My dear, your song was helping me like anything to +get the mood. This paper is the very deuce--to balance between the +historical and the natural. + +THE WIFE. Who wants the natural? + +PROF. [Grumbling] Umm! Wish I thought that! Modern taste! +History may go hang; they're all for tuppence-coloured sentiment +nowadays. + +THE WIFE. [As if to herself] Is the Spring sentiment? + +PROF. I beg your pardon, my dear; I didn't catch. + +WIFE. [As if against her will--urged by some pent-up force] Beauty, +beauty! + +PROF. That's what I'm trying to say here. The Orpheus legend +symbolizes to this day the call of Beauty! [He takes up his pen, +while she continues to stare out at the moonlight. Yawning] Dash +it! I get so sleepy; I wish you'd tell them to make the after-dinner +coffee twice as strong. + +WIFE. I will. + +PROF. How does this strike you? [Conning] "Many Renaissance +pictures, especially those of Botticelli, Francesca and Piero di +Cosimo were inspired by such legends as that of Orpheus, and we owe a +tiny gem--like Raphael 'Apollo and Marsyas' to the same Pagan +inspiration." + +WIFE. We owe it more than that--rebellion against the dry-as-dust. + +PROF. Quite. I might develop that: "We owe it our revolt against +the academic; or our disgust at 'big business,' and all the grossness +of commercial success. We owe----". [His voice peters out.] + +WIFE. It--love. + +PROF. [Abstracted] Eh! + +WIFE. I said: We owe it love. + +PROF. [Rather startled] Possibly. But--er [With a dry smile] +I mustn't say that here--hardly! + +WIFE. [To herself and the moonlight] Orpheus with his lute! + +PROF. Most people think a lute is a sort of flute. [Yawning +heavily] My dear, if you're not going to sing again, d'you mind +sitting down? I want to concentrate. + +WIFE. I'm going out. + +PROF. Mind the dew! + +WIFE. The Christian virtues and the dew. + +PROF. [With a little dry laugh] Not bad! Not bad! The Christian +virtues and the dew. [His hand takes up his pen, his face droops +over his paper, while his wife looks at him with a very strange face] +"How far we can trace the modern resurgence against the Christian +virtues to the symbolic figures of Orpheus, Pan, Apollo, and Bacchus +might be difficult to estimate, but----" + + [During those words his WIFE has passed through the window into + the moonlight, and her voice rises, singing as she goes: + "Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees . . ."] + +PROF. [Suddenly aware of something] She'll get her throat bad. +[He is silent as the voice swells in the distance] Sounds queer at +night-H'm! [He is silent--Yawning. The voice dies away. Suddenly +his head nods; he fights his drowsiness; writes a word or two, nods +again, and in twenty seconds is asleep.] + + [The Stage is darkened by a black-out. FRUST's voice is heard + speaking.] + +FRUST. What's that girl's name? + +VANE. Vanessa Hellgrove. + +FRUST. Aha! + + [The Stage is lighted up again. Moonlight bright on the + orchard; the room in darkness where the PROFESSOR'S figure is + just visible sleeping in the chair, and screwed a little more + round towards the window. From behind the mossy boulder a + faun-like figure uncurls itself and peeps over with ears + standing up and elbows leaning on the stone, playing a rustic + pipe; and there are seen two rabbits and a fox sitting up and + listening. A shiver of wind passes, blowing petals from the + apple-trees.] + + [The FAUN darts his head towards where, from Right, comes slowly + the figure of a Greek youth, holding a lute or lyre which his + fingers strike, lifting out little wandering strains as of wind + whinnying in funnels and odd corners. The FAUN darts down + behind the stone, and the youth stands by the boulder playing + his lute. Slowly while he plays the whitened trunk of an + apple-tree is seen, to dissolve into the body of a girl with + bare arms and feet, her dark hair unbound, and the face of the + PROFESSOR'S WIFE. Hypnotized, she slowly sways towards him, + their eyes fixed on each other, till she is quite close. Her + arms go out to him, cling round his neck and, their lips meet. + But as they meet there comes a gasp and the PROFESSOR with + rumpled hair is seen starting from his chair, his hands thrown + up; and at his horrified "Oh!" the Stage is darkened with a + black-out.] + + [The voice of FRUST is heard speaking.] + +FRUST. Gee! + + The Stage is lighted up again, as in the opening scene. The + PROFESSOR is seen in his chair, with spilt sheets of paper round + him, waking from a dream. He shakes himself, pinches his leg, + stares heavily round into the moonlight, rises. + +PROF. Phew! Beastly dream! Boof! H'm! [He moves to the window +and calls.] Blanche! Blanche! [To himself] Made trees-made trees! +[Calling] Blanche! + +WIFE's VOICE. Yes. + +PROF. Where are you? + +WIFE. [Appearing by the stone with her hair down] Here! + +PROF. I say--I---I've been asleep--had a dream. Come in. I'll tell +you. + + [She comes, and they stand in the window.] + +PROF. I dreamed I saw a-faun on that boulder blowing on a pipe. [He +looks nervously at the stone] With two damned little rabbits and a +fox sitting up and listening. And then from out there came our +friend Orpheus playing on his confounded lute, till he actually +turned that tree there into you. And gradually he-he drew you like a +snake till you--er--put your arms round his neck and--er--kissed him. +Boof! I woke up. Most unpleasant. Why! Your hair's down! + +WIFE. Yes. + +PROF. Why? + +WIFE. It was no dream. He was bringing me to life. + +PROF. What on earth? + +WIFE. Do you suppose I am alive? I'm as dead as Euridice. + +PROF. Good heavens, Blanche, what's the matter with you to-night? + +WIFE. [Pointing to the litter of papers] Why don't we live, instead +of writing of it? [She points out unto the moonlight] What do we +get out of life? Money, fame, fashion, talk, learning? Yes. And +what good are they? I want to live! + +PROF. [Helplessly] My dear, I really don't know what you mean. + +WIFE. [Pointing out into the moonlight] Look! Orpheus with his +lute, and nobody can see him. Beauty, beauty, beauty--we let it go. +[With sudden passion] Beauty, love, the spring. They should be in +us, and they're all outside. + +PROF. My dear, this is--this is--awful. [He tries to embrace her.] + +WIFE. [Avoiding him--an a stilly voice] Oh! Go on with your +writing! + +PROF. I'm--I'm upset. I've never known you so--so---- + +WIFE. Hysterical? Well! It's over. I'll go and sing. + +PROF. [Soothingly] There, there! I'm sorry, darling; I really am. +You're kipped--you're kipped. [He gives and she accepts a kiss] +Better? + + [He gravitates towards his papers.] + +All right, now? + +WIFE. [Standing still and looking at him] Quite! + +PROF. Well, I'll try and finish this to-night; then, to-morrow we +might have a jaunt. How about a theatre? There's a thing--they say +--called "Chinese Chops," that's been running years. + +WIFE. [Softly to herself as he settles down into his chair] Oh! +God! + + [While he takes up a sheet of paper and adjusts himself, she + stands at the window staring with all her might at the boulder, + till from behind it the faun's head and shoulders emerge once + more.] + +PROF. Very queer the power suggestion has over the mind. Very +queer! There's nothing really in animism, you know, except the +curious shapes rocks, trees and things take in certain lights--effect +they have on our imagination. [He looks up] What's the matter now? + +WIFE. [Startled] Nothing! Nothing! + + [Her eyes waver to him again, and the FAUN vanishes. She turns + again to look at the boulder; there is nothing there; a little + shiver of wind blows some petals off the trees. She catches one + of them, and turning quickly, goes out through the curtain.] + +PROF. [Coming to himself and writing] "The Orpheus legend is the-- +er--apotheosis of animism. Can we accept----" [His voice is lost in +the sound of his WIFE'S voice beginning again: "Orpheus with his +lute--with his lute made trees----" It dies in a sob. The PROFESSOR +looks up startled, as the curtain falls]. + +FRUST. Fine! Fine! + +VANE. Take up the curtain. Mr Foreson? + + [The curtain goes up.] + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Everybody on. + + [He and FRUST leave their seats and ascend on to the Stage, on + which are collecting the four Players.] + +VANE. Give us some light. + +FORESON. Electrics! Turn up your floats! + + [The footlights go up, and the blue goes out; the light is crude + as at the beginning.] + +FRUST. I'd like to meet Miss Hellgrove. [She comes forward eagerly +and timidly. He grasps her hand] Miss Hellgrove, I want to say I +thought that fine--fine. [Her evident emotion and pleasure warm him +so that he increases his grasp and commendation] Fine. It quite got +my soft spots. Emotional. Fine! + +MISS H. Oh! Mr Frust; it means so much to me. Thank you! + +FRUST. [A little balder in the eye, and losing warmth] Er--fine! +[His eye wanders] Where's Mr Flatway? + +VANE. Fleetway. + + [FLEETWAY comes up.] + +FRUST. Mr Fleetway, I want to say I thought your Orphoos very +remarkable. Fine. + +FLEETWAY. Thank you, sir, indeed--so glad you liked it. + +FRUST. [A little balder in the eye] There wasn't much to it, but +what there was was fine. Mr Toone. + + [FLEETWAY melts out and TOONE is precipitated.] + +Mr Toone, I was very pleased with your Professor--quite a +character-study. [TOONE bows and murmurs] Yes, sir! I thought it +fine. [His eye grows bald] Who plays the goat? + +MISS HOPK. [Appearing suddenly between the windows] I play the +faun, Mr Frost. + +FORESON. [Introducing] Miss Maude 'Opkins. + +FRUST. Miss Hopkins, I guess your fawn was fine. + +MISS HOPK. Oh! Thank you, Mr Frost. How nice of you to say so. I +do so enjoy playing him. + +FRUST. [His eye growing bald] Mr Foreson, I thought the way you +fixed that tree was very cunning; I certainly did. Got a match? + + [He takes a match from FORESON, and lighting a very long cigar, + walks up Stage through the French windows followed by FORESON, + and examines the apple-tree.] + + [The two Actors depart, but Miss HELLGROVE runs from where she + has been lingering, by the curtain, to VANE, Stage Right.] + +MISS H. Oh! Mr Vane--do you think? He seemed quite--Oh! Mr Vane +[ecstatically] If only---- + +VANE. [Pleased and happy] Yes, yes. All right--you were splendid. +He liked it. He quite---- + +MISS H. [Clasping her hand] How wonderful Oh, Mr Vane, thank you! + + [She clasps his hands; but suddenly, seeing that FRUST is coming + back, fits across into the curtain and vanishes.] + + [The Stage, in the crude light, as empty now save for FRUST, + who, in the French windows, Centre, is mumbling his cigar; and + VANE, Stage Right, who is looking up into the wings, Stage + Left.] + +VANE. [Calling up] That lighting's just right now, Miller. Got it +marked carefully? + +ELECTRICS. Yes, Mr Vane. + +VANE. Good. [To FRUST who as coming down] Well, sir? So glad---- + +FRUST. Mr Vane, we got little Miggs on contract? + +VANE. Yes. + +FRUST. Well, I liked that little pocket piece fine. But I'm blamed +if I know what it's all about. + +VANE. [A little staggered] Why! Of course it's a little allegory. +The tragedy of civilization--all real feeling for Beauty and Nature +kept out, or pent up even in the cultured. + +FRUST. Ye-ep. [Meditatively] Little Miggs'd be fine in "Pop goes +the Weasel." + +VANE. Yes, he'd be all right, but---- + +FRUST. Get him on the 'phone, and put it into rehearsal right now. + +VANE. What! But this piece--I--I----! + +FRUST. Guess we can't take liberties with our public, Mr Vane. They +want pep. + +VANE. [Distressed] But it'll break that girl's heart. I--really--I +can't---- + +FRUST. Give her the part of the 'tweeny in "Pop goes". + +VANE. Mr Frust, I--I beg. I've taken a lot of trouble with this +little play. It's good. It's that girl's chance--and I---- + +FRUST. We-ell! I certainly thought she was fine. Now, you 'phone +up Miggs, and get right along with it. I've only one rule, sir! +Give the Public what it wants; and what the Public wants is punch and +go. They've got no use for Beauty, Allegory, all that high-brow +racket. I know 'em as I know my hand. + + [During this speech MISS HELLGROVE is seen listening by the + French window, in distress, unnoticed by either of them.] + +VANE. Mr Frost, the Public would take this, I'm sure they would; I'm +convinced of it. You underrate them. + +FRUST. Now, see here, Mr Blewitt Vane, is this my theatre? I tell +you, I can't afford luxuries. + +VANE. But it--it moved you, sir; I saw it. I was watching. + +FRUST. [With unmoved finality] Mr Vane, I judge I'm not the average +man. Before "Louisa Loses" the Public'll want a stimulant. "Pop +goes the Weasel" will suit us fine. So--get right along with it. +I'll go get some lunch. + + [As he vanishes into the wings, Left, MISS HELLGROVE covers her + face with her hands. A little sob escaping her attracts VANE'S + attention. He takes a step towards her, but she flies.] + +VANE. [Dashing his hands through his hair till it stands up] +Damnation! + + [FORESON walks on from the wings, Right.] + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. "Punch and go!" That superstition! + + [FORESON walks straight out into the wings, Left.] + +VANE. Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. This is scrapped. [With savagery] Tell 'em to set the first +act of "Louisa Loses," and put some pep into it. + + [He goes out through the French windows with the wind still in + his hair.] + +FORESON. [In the centre of the Stage] Electrics! + +ELECTRICS. Hallo! + +FORESON. Where's Charlie? + +ELECTRICS. Gone to his dinner. + +FORESON. Anybody on the curtain? + +A VOICE. Yes, Mr Foreson. + +FORESON. Put your curtain down. + + [He stands in the centre of the Stage with eyes uplifted as the + curtain descends.] + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Six Short Plays, Complete, by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX SHORT PLAYS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 5060.txt or 5060.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/6/5060/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: Six Short Plays, Complete + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5060] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 11, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX SHORT PLAYS BY GALSWORTHY *** + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +SIX SHORT PLAYS, Complete + +By John Galsworthy + + +Contents: + The First and Last + The Little Man + Hall-Marked + Defeat + The Sun + Punch and Go + + + + +THE FIRST AND THE LAST + +A Drama In Three Scenes + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +KEITH DARRANT, K.C. +LARRY DARRANT, His Brother. +WANDA. + + + +SCENE I. KEITH'S Study. + +SCENE II. WANDA's Room. + +SCENE III. The Same. + +Between SCENE I. and SCENE II.--Thirty hours. +Between SCENE II. and SCENE III.--Two months. + + + + +SCENE I + +It is six o'clock of a November evening, in KEITH DARRANT'S +study. A large, dark-curtained room where the light from a single +reading-lamp falling on Turkey carpet, on books beside a large +armchair, on the deep blue-and-gold coffee service, makes a sort of +oasis before a log fire. In red Turkish slippers and an old brown +velvet coat, KEITH DARRANT sits asleep. He has a dark, clean-cut, +clean-shaven face, dark grizzling hair, dark twisting eyebrows. + + [The curtained door away out in the dim part of the room behind + him is opened so softly that he does not wake. LARRY DARRANT + enters and stands half lost in the curtain over the door. A + thin figure, with a worn, high cheek-boned face, deep-sunk blue + eyes and wavy hair all ruffled--a face which still has a certain + beauty. He moves inwards along the wall, stands still again and + utters a gasping sigh. KEITH stirs in his chair.] + +KEITH. Who's there? + +LARRY. [In a stifled voice] Only I--Larry. + +KEITH. [Half-waked] Come in! I was asleep. [He does not turn his +head, staring sleepily at the fire.] + + The sound of LARRY's breathing can be heard. + + [Turning his head a little] Well, Larry, what is it? + + LARRY comes skirting along the wall, as if craving its support, + outside the radius of the light. + + [Staring] Are you ill? + + LARRY stands still again and heaves a deep sigh. + +KEITH. [Rising, with his back to the fire, and staring at his +brother] What is it, man? [Then with a brutality born of nerves +suddenly ruffled] Have you committed a murder that you stand there +like a fish? + +LARRY. [In a whisper] Yes, Keith. + +KEITH. [With vigorous disgust] By Jove! Drunk again! [In a +voice changed by sudden apprehension] What do you mean by coming +here in this state? I told you---- If you weren't my brother----! +Come here, where I can we you! What's the matter with you, Larry? + + [With a lurch LARRY leaves the shelter of the wall and sinks into + a chair in the circle of light.] + +LARRY. It's true. + + [KEITH steps quickly forward and stares down into his brother's + eyes, where is a horrified wonder, as if they would never again + get on terms with his face.] + +KEITH. [Angry, bewildered-in a low voice] What in God's name is +this nonsense? + + [He goes quickly over to the door and draws the curtain aside, to + see that it is shut, then comes back to LARRY, who is huddling + over the fire.] + +Come, Larry! Pull yourself together and drop exaggeration! What on +earth do you mean? + +LARRY. [In a shrill outburst] It's true, I tell you; I've killed a +man. + +KEITH. [Bracing himself; coldly] Be quiet! + + LARRY lifts his hands and wrings them. + +[Utterly taken aback] Why come here and tell me this? + +LARRY. Whom should I tell, Keith? I came to ask what I'm to do-- +give myself up, or what? + +KEITH. When--when--what----? + +LARRY. Last night. + +KEITH. Good God! How? Where? You'd better tell me quietly from +the beginning. Here, drink this coffee; it'll clear your head. + + He pours out and hands him a cup of coffee. LARRY drinks it + off. + +LARRY. My head! Yes! It's like this, Keith--there's a girl---- + +KEITH. Women! Always women, with you! Well? + +LARRY. A Polish girl. She--her father died over here when she was +sixteen, and left her all alone. There was a mongrel living in the +same house who married her--or pretended to. She's very pretty, +Keith. He left her with a baby coming. She lost it, and nearly +starved. Then another fellow took her on, and she lived with him two +years, till that brute turned up again and made her go back to him. +He used to beat her black and blue. He'd left her again when--I met +her. She was taking anybody then. [He stops, passes his hand over +his lips, looks up at KEITH, and goes on defiantly] I never met a +sweeter woman, or a truer, that I swear. Woman! She's only twenty +now! When I went to her last night, that devil had found her out +again. He came for me--a bullying, great, hulking brute. Look! +[He touches a dark mark on his forehead] I took his ugly throat, and +when I let go--[He stops and his hands drop.] + +KEITH. Yes? + +LARRY. [In a smothered voice] Dead, Keith. I never knew till +afterwards that she was hanging on to him--to h-help me. [Again he +wrings his hands.] + +KEITH. [In a hard, dry voice] What did you do then? + +LARRY. We--we sat by it a long time. + +KEITH. Well? + +LARRY. Then I carried it on my back down the street, round a corner, +to an archway. + +KEITH. How far? + +LARRY. About fifty yards. + +KEITH. Was--did anyone see? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. What time? + +LARRY. Three in the morning. + +KEITH. And then? + +LARRY. Went back to her. + +KEITH. Why--in heaven's name? + +LARRY. She way lonely and afraid. So was I, Keith. + +KEITH. Where is this place? + +LARRY. Forty-two Borrow Square, Soho. + +KEITH. And the archway? + +LARRY. Corner of Glove Lane. + +KEITH. Good God! Why, I saw it in the paper this morning. They +were talking of it in the Courts! [He snatches the evening paper +from his armchair, and runs it over anal reads] Here it is again. +"Body of a man was found this morning under an archway in Glove Lane. +>From marks about the throat grave suspicion of foul play are +entertained. The body had apparently been robbed. "My God! +[Suddenly he turns] You saw this in the paper and dreamed it. D'you +understand, Larry?--you dreamed it. + +LARRY. [Wistfully] If only I had, Keith! + + [KEITH makes a movement of his hands almost like his brother's.] + +KEITH. Did you take anything from the-body? + +LARRY. [Drawing au envelope from his pocket] This dropped out while +we were struggling. + +KEITH. [Snatching it and reading] "Patrick Walenn"--Was that his +name? "Simon's Hotel, Farrier Street, London." [Stooping, he puts it +in the fire] No!--that makes me----[He bends to pluck it out, stays +his hand, and stamps it suddenly further in with his foot] What in +God's name made you come here and tell me? Don't you know I'm--I'm +within an ace of a Judgeship? + +LARRY. [Simply] Yes. You must know what I ought to do. I didn't, +mean to kill him, Keith. I love the girl--I love her. What shall I +do? + +KEITH. Love! + +LARRY. [In a flash] Love!--That swinish brute! A million creatures +die every day, and not one of them deserves death as he did. But but +I feel it here. [Touching his heart] Such an awful clutch, Keith. +Help me if you can, old man. I may be no good, but I've never hurt a +fly if I could help it. [He buries his face in his hands.] + +KEITH. Steady, Larry! Let's think it out. You weren't seen, you +say? + +LARRY. It's a dark place, and dead night. + +KEITH. When did you leave the girl again? + +LARRY. About seven. + +KEITH. Where did you go? + +LARRY. To my rooms. + +KEITH. To Fitzroy Street? + +LARRY. Yes. + +KEITH. What have you done since? + +LARRY. Sat there--thinking. + +KEITH. Not been out? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. Not seen the girl? + + [LARRY shakes his head.] + +Will she give you away? + +LARRY. Never. + +KEITH. Or herself hysteria? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. Who knows of your relations with her? + +LARRY. No one. + +KEITH. No one? + +LARRY. I don't know who should, Keith. + +KEITH. Did anyone see you go in last night, when you first went to +her? + +LARRY. No. She lives on the ground floor. I've got keys. + +KEITH. Give them to me. + + LARRY takes two keys from his pocket and hands them to his + brother. + +LARRY. [Rising] I can't be cut off from her! + +KEITH. What! A girl like that? + +LARRY. [With a flash] Yes, a girl like that. + +KEITH. [Moving his hand to put down old emotion] What else have you +that connects you with her? + +LARRY. Nothing. + +KEITH. In your rooms? + + [LARRY shakes his head.] + +Photographs? Letters? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. Sure? + +LARRY. Nothing. + +KEITH. No one saw you going back to her? + + [LARRY shakes his head. ] +Nor leave in the morning? You can't be certain. + +LARRY. I am. + +KEITH. You were fortunate. Sit down again, man. I must think. + + He turns to the fire and leans his elbows on the mantelpiece and + his head on his hands. LARRY Sits down again obediently. + +KEITH. It's all too unlikely. It's monstrous! + +LARRY. [Sighing it out] Yes. + +KEITH. This Walenn--was it his first reappearance after an absence? + +LARRY. Yes. + +KEITH. How did he find out where she was? + +LARRY. I don't know. + +KEITH. [Brutally] How drunk were you? + +LARRY. I was not drunk. + +KEITH. How much had you drunk, then? + +LARRY. A little claret--nothing! + +KEITH. You say you didn't mean to kill him. + +LARRY. God knows. + +KEITH. That's something. + +LARRY. He hit me. [He holds up his hands] I didn't know I was so +strong. + +KEITH. She was hanging on to him, you say?--That's ugly. + +LARRY. She was scared for me. + +KEITH. D'you mean she--loves you? + +LARRY. [Simply] Yes, Keith. + +KEITH. [Brutally] Can a woman like that love? + +LARRY. [Flashing out] By God, you are a stony devil! Why not? + +KEITH. [Dryly] I'm trying to get at truth. If you want me to help, +I must know everything. What makes you think she's fond of you? + +LARRY. [With a crzay laugh] Oh, you lawyer! Were you never in a +woman's arms? + +KEITH. I'm talking of love. + +LARRY. [Fiercely] So am I. I tell you she's devoted. Did you ever +pick up a lost dog? Well, she has the lost dog's love for me. And I +for her; we picked each other up. I've never felt for another woman +what I feel for her--she's been the saving of me! + +KEITH. [With a shrug] What made you choose that archway? + +LARRY. It was the first dark place. + +KEITH. Did his face look as if he'd been strangled? + +LARRY. Don't! + +KEITH. Did it? + + [LARRY bows his head.] + +Very disfigured? + +LARRY. Yes. + +KEITH. Did you look to see if his clothes were marked? + +LARRY. No. + +KEITH. Why not? + +LARRY. [In an outburst] I'm not made of iron, like you. Why not? +If you had done it----! + +KEITH. [Holding up his hand] You say he was disfigured. Would he +be recognisable? + +LARRY. [Wearily] I don't know. + +KEITH. When she lived with him last--where was that? + +LARRY. In Pimlico, I think. + +KEITH. Not Soho? + + [LARRY shakes his head.] + +How long has she been at this Soho place? + +LARRY. Nearly a year. + +KEITH. Living this life? + +LARRY. Till she met me. + +KEITH. Till, she met you? And you believe----? + +LARRY. [Starting up] Keith! + +KEITH. [Again raising his hand] Always in the same rooms? + +LARRY. [Subsiding] Yes. + +KEITH. What was he? A professional bully? + + [LARRY nods.] + +Spending most of his time abroad, I suppose. + +LARRY. I think so. + +KEITH. Can you say if he was known to the police? + +LARRY. I've never heard. + + KEITH turns away and walks up and down; then, stopping at + LARRY's chair, he speaks. + +KEITH. Now listen, Larry. When you leave here, go straight home, +and stay there till I give you leave to go out again. Promise. + +LARRY. I promise. + +KEITH. Is your promise worth anything? + +LARRY. [With one of his flashes] "Unstable as water, he shall not +excel!" + +KEITH. Exactly. But if I'm to help you, you must do as I say. +I must have time to think this out. Have you got money? + +LARRY. Very little. + +KEITH. [Grimly] Half-quarter day--yes, your quarter's always spent +by then. If you're to get away--never mind, I can manage the money. + +LARRY. [Humbly] You're very good, Keith; you've always been very +good to me--I don't know why. + +KEITH. [Sardonically] Privilege of A brother. As it happens, I'm +thinking of myself and our family. You can't indulge yourself in +killing without bringing ruin. My God! I suppose you realise that +you've made me an accessory after the fact--me, King's counsel--sworn +to the service of the Law, who, in a year or two, will have the +trying of cases like yours! By heaven, Larry, you've surpassed +yourself! + +LARRY. [Bringing out a little box] I'd better have done with it. + +KErra. You fool! Give that to me. + +LARRY. [With a strange smite] No. [He holds up a tabloid between +finger and thumb] White magic, Keith! Just one--and they may do +what they like to you, and you won't know it. Snap your fingers at +all the tortures. It's a great comfort! Have one to keep by you? + +KEITH. Come, Larry! Hand it over. + +LARRY. [Replacing the box] Not quite! You've never killed a man, +you see. [He gives that crazy laugh.] D'you remember that hammer +when we were boys and you riled me, up in the long room? I had luck +then. I had luck in Naples once. I nearly killed a driver for +beating his poor brute of a horse. But now--! My God! [He covers +his face.] + + KEITH touched, goes up and lays a hand on his shoulder. + +KEITH. Come, Larry! Courage! + + LARRY looks up at him. + +LARRY. All right, Keith; I'll try. + +KEITH. Don't go out. Don't drink. Don't talk. Pull yourself +together! + +LARRY. [Moving towards the door] Don't keep me longer than you can +help, Keith. + +KEITH. No, no. Courage! + + LARRY reaches the door, turns as if to say something-finds no + words, and goes. + +[To the fire] Courage! My God! I shall need it! + + + CURTAIN + + + + +SCENE II + + At out eleven o'clock the following night an WANDA'S room on the + ground floor in Soho. In the light from one close-shaded + electric bulb the room is but dimly visible. A dying fire burns + on the left. A curtained window in the centre of the back wall. + A door on the right. The furniture is plush-covered and + commonplace, with a kind of shabby smartness. A couch, without + back or arms, stands aslant, between window and fire. + + [On this WANDA is sitting, her knees drawn up under her, staring + at the embers. She has on only her nightgown and a wrapper over + it; her bare feet are thrust into slippers. Her hands are + crossed and pressed over her breast. She starts and looks up, + listening. Her eyes are candid and startled, her face alabaster + pale, and its pale brown hair, short and square-cut, curls + towards her bare neck. The startled dark eyes and the faint + rose of her lips are like colour-staining on a white mask.] + + [Footsteps as of a policeman, very measured, pass on the + pavement outside, and die away. She gets up and steals to the + window, draws one curtain aside so that a chink of the night is + seen. She opens the curtain wider, till the shape of a bare, + witch-like tree becomes visible in the open space of the little + Square on the far side of the road. The footsteps are heard + once more coming nearer. WANDA closes the curtains and cranes + back. They pass and die again. She moves away and looking down + at the floor between door and couch, as though seeing something + there; shudders; covers her eyes; goes back to the couch and + down again just as before, to stare at the embers. Again she is + startled by noise of the outer door being opened. She springs + up, runs and turns the light by a switch close to the door. By + the glimmer of the fire she can just be seen standing by the + dark window-curtains, listening. There comes the sound of + subdued knocking on her door. She stands in breathless terror. + The knocking is repeated. The sound of a latchkey in the door + is heard. Her terror leaves her. The door opens; a man enters + in a dark, fur overcoat.] + +WANDA. [In a voice of breathless relief, with a rather foreign +accent] Oh! it's you, Larry! Why did you knock? I was so +frightened. Come in! [She crosses quickly, and flings her arms +round his neck] [Recoiling--in a terror-stricken whisper] Oh! Who +is it? + +KEITH. [In a smothered voice] A friend of Larry's. Don't be +frightened. + + She has recoiled again to the window; and when he finds the + switch and turns the light up, she is seen standing there + holding her dark wrapper up to her throat, so that her face has + an uncanny look of being detached from the body. + +[Gently] You needn't be afraid. I haven't come to do you harm-- +quite the contrary. [Holding up the keys] Larry wouldn't have given +me these, would he, if he hadn't trusted me? + + WANDA does not move, staring like a spirit startled out of the + flesh. + +[After looking round him] I'm sorry to have startled you. + +WANDA. [In a whisper] Who are you, please? + +KEITH. Larry's brother. + + WANDA, with a sigh of utter relief, steals forward to the couch + and sinks down. KEITH goes up to her. + +He'd told me. + +WANDA. [Clasping her hands round her knees.] Yes? + +KEITH. An awful business! + +WANDA. Yes; oh, yes! Awful--it is awful! + +KEITH. [Staring round him again.] In this room? + +WANDA. Just where you are standing. I see him now, always falling. + +KEITH. [Moved by the gentle despair in her voice] You--look very +young. What's your name? + +WANDA. Wanda. + +KEITH. Are you fond of Larry? + +WANDA. I would die for him! + + [A moment's silence.] + +KEITH. I--I've come to see what you can do to save him. + +WANDA, [Wistfully] You would not deceive me. You are really his +brother? + +KEITH. I swear it. + +WANDA. [Clasping her hands] If I can save him! Won't you sit down? + +KEITH. [Drawing up a chair and sitting] This, man, your--your +husband, before he came here the night before last--how long since +you saw him? + +WANDA. Eighteen month. + +KEITH. Does anyone about here know you are his wife? + +WANDA. No. I came here to live a bad life. Nobody know me. I am +quite alone. + +KEITH. They've discovered who he was--you know that? + +WANDA. No; I have not dared to go out. + +KEITH: Well, they have; and they'll look for anyone connected with +him, of course. + +WANDA. He never let people think I was married to him. I don't know +if I was--really. We went to an office and signed our names; but he +was a wicked man. He treated many, I think, like me. + +KEITH. Did my brother ever see him before? + +WANDA. Never! And that man first went for him. + +KEITH. Yes. I saw the mark. Have you a servant? + +WANDA. No. A woman come at nine in the morning for an hour. + +KEITH. Does she know Larry? + +WANDA. No. He is always gone. + +KEITH. Friends--acquaintances? + +WANDA. No; I am verree quiet. Since I know your brother, I see no +one, sare. + +KEITH. [Sharply] Do you mean that? + +WANDA. Oh, yes! I love him. Nobody come here but him for a long +time now. + +KEITH. How long? + +WANDA. Five month. + +KEITH. So you have not been out since----? + + [WANDA shakes her head.] + +What have you been doing? + +WANDA. [Simply] Crying. [Pressing her hands to her breast] He is +in danger because of me. I am so afraid for him. + +KEITH. [Checking her emotion] Look at me. + + [She looks at him.] + +If the worst comes, and this man is traced to you, can you trust +yourself not to give Larry away? + +WANDA. [Rising and pointing to the fire] Look! I have burned all +the things he have given me--even his picture. Now I have nothing +from him. + +KEITH. [Who has risen too] Good! One more question. Do the police +know you--because--of your life? + + [She looks at him intently, and shakes her, head.] + +You know where Larry lives? + +WANDA. Yes. + +KEITH. You mustn't go there, and he mustn't come to you. + + [She bows her head; then, suddenly comes close to him.] + +WANDA. Please do not take him from me altogether. I will be so +careful. I will not do anything to hurt him. But if I cannot see +him sometimes, I shall die. Please do not take him from me. + + [She catches his hand and presses it desperately between her + own.] + +KEITH. Leave that to me. I'm going to do all I can. + +WANDA. [Looking up into his face] But you will be kind? + + Suddenly she bends and kisses his hand. KEITH draws his hand + away, and she recoils a little humbly, looking up at him again. + Suddenly she stands rigid, listening. + +[In a whisper] Listen! Someone--out there! + + She darts past him and turns out the light. There is a knock on + the door. They are now close together between door and window. + + [Whispering] Oh! Who is it? + +KEITH. [Under his breath] You said no one comes but Larry. + +WANDA. Yes, and you have his keys. Oh! if it is Larry! I must open! + + KEITH shrinks back against the wall. WANDA goes to the door. + +[Opening the door an inch] Yes? Please? Who? + + A thin streak of light from a bull's-eye lantern outside plays + over the wall. A Policeman's voice says: "All right, Miss. + Your outer door's open. You ought to keep it shut after dark, + you know." + +WANDA. Thank you, air. + + [The sound of retreating footsteps, of the outer door closing. + WANDA shuts the door.] + +A policeman! + +KEITH. [Moving from the wall] Curse! I must have left that door. +[Suddenly-turning up the light] You told me they didn't know you. + +WANDA. [Sighing] I did not think they did, sir. It is so long I +was not out in the town; not since I had Larry. + + KEITH gives her an intent look, then crosses to the fire. He + stands there a moment, looking down, then turns to the girl, who + has crept back to the couch. + +KEITH. [Half to himself] After your life, who can believe---? Look +here! You drifted together and you'll drift apart, you know. Better +for him to get away and make a clean cut of it. + +WANDA. [Uttering a little moaning sound] Oh, sir! May I not love, +because I have been bad? I was only sixteen when that man spoiled +me. If you knew---- + +KEITH. I'm thinking of Larry. With you, his danger is much greater. +There's a good chance as things are going. You may wreck it. And +for what? Just a few months more of--well--you know. + +WANDA. [Standing at the head of the couch and touching her eyes with +her hands] Oh, sir! Look! It is true. He is my life. Don't take +him away from me. + +KEITH. [Moved and restless] You must know what Larry is. He'll +never stick to you. + +WANDA. [Simply] He will, sir. + +KEITH. [Energetically] The last man on earth to stick to anything! +But for the sake of a whim he'll risk his life and the honour of all +his family. I know him. + +WANDA. No, no, you do not. It is I who know him. + +KEITH. Now, now! At any moment they may find out your connection +with that man. So long as Larry goes on with you, he's tied to this +murder, don't you see? + +WANDA. [Coming close to him] But he love me. Oh, sir! he love me! + +KEITH. Larry has loved dozens of women. + +WANDA. Yes, but----[Her face quivers]. + +KEITH. [Brusquely] Don't cry! If I give you money, will you +disappear, for his sake? + +WANDA. [With a moan] It will be in the water, then. There will be +no cruel men there. + +KEITH. Ah! First Larry, then you! Come now. It's better for you +both. A few months, and you'll forget you ever met. + +WANDA. [Looking wildly up] I will go if Larry say I must. But not +to live. No! [Simply] I could not, sir. + + [KEITH, moved, is silent.] + +I could not live without Larry. What is left for a girl like me-- +when she once love? It is finish. + +KEITH. I don't want you to go back to that life. + +WANDA. No; you do not care what I do. Why should you? I tell you I +will go if Larry say I must. + +KEITH. That's not enough. You know that. You must take it out of +his hands. He will never give up his present for the sake of his +future. If you're as fond of him as you say, you'll help to save +him. + +WANDA. [Below her breath] Yes! Oh, yes! But do not keep him long +from me--I beg! [She sinks to the floor and clasps his knees.] + +KEITH. Well, well! Get up. + + [There is a tap on the window-pane] + +Listen! + + [A faint, peculiar whistle. ] + +WANDA. [Springing up] Larry! Oh, thank God! + + [She runs to the door, opens it, and goes out to bring him in. + KEITH stands waiting, facing the open doorway.] + + [LARRY entering with WANDA just behind him.] + +LARRY. Keith! + +KEITH. [Grimly] So much for your promise not to go out! + +LARRY. I've been waiting in for you all day. I couldn't stand it +any longer. + +KEITH. Exactly! + +LARRY. Well, what's the sentence, brother? Transportation for life +and then to be fined forty pounds'? + +KEITH. So you can joke, can you? + +LARRY. Must. + +KEITH. A boat leaves for the Argentine the day after to-morrow; you +must go by it. + +LARRY. [Putting his arms round WANDA, who is standing motionless +with her eyes fixed on him] Together, Keith? + +KEITH. You can't go together. I'll send her by the next boat. + +LARRY. Swear? + +KEITH. Yes. You're lucky they're on a false scent. + +LARRY. What? + +KEITH. You haven't seen it? + +LARRY. I've seen nothing, not even a paper. + +KEITH. They've taken up a vagabond who robbed the body. He pawned a +snake-shaped ring, and they identified this Walenn by it. I've been +down and seen him charged myself. + +LARRY. With murder? + +WANDA. [Faintly] Larry! + +KEITH. He's in no danger. They always get the wrong man first. +It'll do him no harm to be locked up a bit--hyena like that. Better +in prison, anyway, than sleeping out under archways in this weather. + +LARRY. What was he like, Keith? + +KEITH. A little yellow, ragged, lame, unshaven scarecrow of a chap. +They were fools to think he could have had the strength. + +LARRY. What! [In an awed voice] Why, I saw him--after I left you +last night. + +KEITH. You? Where? + +LARRY. By the archway. + +KEITH. You went back there? + +LARRY. It draws you, Keith. + +KErra. You're mad, I think. + +LARRY. I talked to him, and he said, "Thank you for this little +chat. It's worth more than money when you're down." Little grey man +like a shaggy animal. And a newspaper boy came up and said: "That's +right, guv'nors! 'Ere's where they found the body--very spot. They +'yn't got 'im yet." + + [He laughs; and the terrified girl presses herself against him.] + +An innocent man! + +KEITH. He's in no danger, I tell you. He could never have +strangled----Why, he hadn't the strength of a kitten. Now, Larry! +I'll take your berth to-morrow. Here's money [He brings out a pile +of notes and puts them on the couch] You can make a new life of it +out there together presently, in the sun. + +LARRY. [In a whisper] In the sun! "A cup of wine and thou." +[Suddenly] How can I, Keith? I must see how it goes with that poor +devil. + +KEITH. Bosh! Dismiss it from your mind; there's not nearly enough +evidence. + +LARRY. Not? + +KEITH. No. You've got your chance. Take it like a man. + +LARRY. [With a strange smile--to the girl] Shall we, Wanda? + +WANDA. Oh, Larry! + +LARRY. [Picking the notes up from the couch] Take them back, Keith. + +KEITH. What! I tell you no jury would convict; and if they did, no +judge would hang. A ghoul who can rob a dead body, ought to be in +prison. He did worse than you. + +LARRY. It won't do, Keith. I must see it out. + +KEITH. Don't be a fool! + +LARRY. I've still got some kind of honour. If I clear out before I +know, I shall have none--nor peace. Take them, Keith, or I'll put +them in the fire. + +KEITH. [Taking back the notes; bitterly] I suppose I may ask you +not to be entirely oblivious of our name. Or is that unworthy of +your honour? + +LARRY. [Hanging his head] I'm awfully sorry, Keith; awfully sorry, +old man. + +KEITH. [sternly] You owe it to me--to our name--to our dead mother- +-to do nothing anyway till we see what happens. + +LARRY. I know. I'll do nothing without you, Keith. + +KEITH. [Taking up his hat] Can I trust you? [He stares hard at his +brother.] + +LARRY. You can trust me. + +KEITH. Swear? + +LARRY. I swear. + +KEITH. Remember, nothing! Good night! + +LARRY. Good night! + + KEITH goes. LARRY Sits down on the couch sand stares at the + fire. The girl steals up and slips her arms about him. + +LARRY. An innocent man! + +WANDA. Oh, Larry! But so are you. What did we want--to kill that +man? Never! Oh! kiss me! + + [LARRY turns his face. She kisses his lips.] + +I have suffered so--not seein' you. Don't leave me again--don't! +Stay here. Isn't it good to be together?--Oh! Poor Larry! How +tired you look!--Stay with me. I am so frightened all alone. So +frightened they will take you from me. + +LARRY. Poor child! + +WANDA. No, no! Don't look like that! + +LARRY. You're shivering. + +WANDA. I will make up the fire. Love me, Larry! I want to forget. + +LARRY. The poorest little wretch on God's earth--locked up--for me! +A little wild animal, locked up. There he goes, up and down, up and +down--in his cage--don't you see him?--looking for a place to gnaw +his way through--little grey rat. [He gets up and roams about.] + +WANDA. No, no! I can't bear it! Don't frighten me more! + + [He comes back and takes her in his arms.] + +LARRY. There, there! [He kisses her closed eyes.] + +WANDA. [Without moving] If we could sleep a little--wouldn't it be +nice? + +LARRY. Sleep? + +WANDA. [Raising herself] Promise to stay with me--to stay here for +good, Larry. I will cook for you; I will make you so comfortable. +They will find him innocent. And then--Oh, Larry! in the sun-right +away--far from this horrible country. How lovely! [Trying to get +him to look at her] Larry! + +LARRY. [With a movement to free 'himself] To the edge of the +world-and---over! + +WANDA. No, no! No, no! You don't want me to die, Larry, do you? I +shall if you leave me. Let us be happy! Love me! + +LARRY. [With a laugh] Ah! Let's be happy and shut out the sight of +him. Who cares? Millions suffer for no mortal reason. Let's be +strong, like Keith. No! I won't leave you, Wanda. Let's forget +everything except ourselves. [Suddenly] There he goes-up and down! + +WANDA. [Moaning] No, no! See! I will pray to the Virgin. She will +pity us! + + She falls on her knees and clasps her hands, praying. Her lips + move. LARRY stands motionless, with arms crossed, and on his + face are yearning and mockery, love and despair. + +LARRY. [Whispering] Pray for us! Bravo! Pray away! + + [Suddenly the girl stretches out her arms and lifts her face + with a look of ecstasy.] + +What? + +WANDA. She is smiling! We shall be happy soon. + +LARRY. [Bending down over her] Poor child! When we die, Wanda, +let's go together. We should keep each other warm out in the dark. + +WANDA. [Raising her hands to his face] Yes! oh, yes! If you die I +could not--I could not go on living! + + + CURTAIN + + + +SCENE III. + +TWO MONTHS LATER + + WANDA'S room. Daylight is just beginning to fail of a January + afternoon. The table is laid for supper, with decanters of + wine. + + WANDA is standing at the window looking out at the wintry trees + of the Square beyond the pavement. A newspaper Boy's voice is + heard coming nearer. + +VOICE. Pyper! Glove Lyne murder! Trial and verdict! [Receding] +Verdict! Pyper! + + WANDA throws up the window as if to call to him, checks herself, + closes it and runs to the door. She opens it, but recoils into + the room. KEITH is standing there. He comes in. + +KEITH. Where's Larry? + +WANDA. He went to the trial. I could not keep him from it. The +trial--Oh! what has happened, sir? + +KEITH. [Savagely] Guilty! Sentence of death! Fools!--idiots! + +WANDA. Of death! [For a moment she seems about to swoon.] + +KEITH. Girl! girl! It may all depend on you. Larry's still living +here? + +WANDA. Yes. + +KEITH. I must wait for him. + +WANDA. Will you sit down, please? + +KEITH. [Shaking his head] Are you ready to go away at any time? + +WANDA. Yes, yes; always I am ready. + +KEITH. And he? + +WANDA. Yes--but now! What will he do? That poor man! + +KEITH. A graveyard thief--a ghoul! + +WANDA. Perhaps he was hungry. I have been hungry: you do things +then that you would not. Larry has thought of him in prison so much +all these weeks. Oh! what shall we do now? + +KEITH. Listen! Help me. Don't let Larry out of your sight. I must +see how things go. They'll never hang this wretch. [He grips her +arms] Now, we must stop Larry from giving himself up. He's fool +enough. D'you understand? + +WANDA. Yes. But why has he not come in? Oh! If he have, already! + +KEITH. [Letting go her arms] My God! If the police come--find me +here--[He moves to the door] No, he wouldn't without seeing you +first. He's sure to come. Watch him like a lynx. Don't let him go +without you. + +WANDA. [Clasping her hands on her breast] I will try, sir. + +KEITH. Listen! + + [A key is heard in the lock.] + +It's he! + + LARRY enters. He is holding a great bunch of pink lilies and + white narcissus. His face tells nothing. KEITH looks from him + to the girl, who stands motionless. + +LARRY. Keith! So you've seen? + +KEITH. The thing can't stand. I'll stop it somehow. But you must +give me time, Larry. + +LARRY. [Calmly] Still looking after your honour, KEITH! + +KEITH. [Grimly] Think my reasons what you like. + +WANDA. [Softly] Larry! + + [LARRY puts his arm round her.] + +LARRY. Sorry, old man. + +KEITH. Tnis man can and shall get off. I want your solemn promise +that you won't give yourself up, nor even go out till I've seen you +again. + +LARRY. I give it. + +KEITH. [Looking from one to the other] By the memory of our mother, +swear that. + +LARRY. [With a smile] I swear. + +KEITH. I have your oath--both of you--both of you. I'm going at +once to see what can be done. + +LARRY. [Softly] Good luck, brother. + + KEITH goes out. + +WANDA. [Putting her hands on LARRY's breast] What does it mean? + +LARRY. Supper, child--I've had nothing all day. Put these lilies in +water. + + [She takes the lilies and obediently puts them into a vase. + LARRY pours wine into a deep-coloured glass and drinks it off.] + +We've had a good time, Wanda. Best time I ever had, these last two +months; and nothing but the bill to pay. + +WANDA. [Clasping him desperately] Oh, Larry! Larry! + +LARRY. [Holding her away to look at her.] Take off those things and +put on a bridal garment. + +WANDA. Promise me--wherever you go, I go too. Promise! Larry, you +think I haven't seen, all these weeks. But I have seen everything; +all in your heart, always. You cannot hide from me. I knew--I knew! +Oh, if we might go away into the sun! Oh! Larry--couldn't we? [She +searches his eyes with hers--then shuddering] Well! If it must be +dark--I don't care, if I may go in your arms. In prison we could not +be together. I am ready. Only love me first. Don't let me cry +before I go. Oh! Larry, will there be much pain? + +LARRY. [In a choked voice] No pain, my pretty. + +WANDA. [With a little sigh] It is a pity. + +LARRY. If you had seen him, as I have, all day, being tortured. +Wanda,--we shall be out of it. [The wine mounting to his head] We +shall be free in the dark; free of their cursed inhumanities. I hate +this world--I loathe it! I hate its God-forsaken savagery; its pride +and smugness! Keith's world--all righteous will-power and success. +We're no good here, you and I--we were cast out at birth--soft, +will-less--better dead. No fear, Keith! I'm staying indoors. [He +pours wine into two glasses] Drink it up! + + + [Obediently WANDA drinks, and he also.] + +Now go and make yourself beautiful. + +WANDA. [Seizing him in her arms] Oh, Larry! + +LARRY. [Touching her face and hair] Hanged by the neck until he's +dead--for what I did. + + [WANDA takes a long look at his face, slips her arms from him, + and goes out through the curtains below the fireplace.] + + [LARRY feels in his pocket, brings out the little box, opens it, + fingers the white tabloids.] + +LARRY. Two each--after food. [He laughs and puts back the box] Oh! +my girl! + + [The sound of a piano playing a faint festive tune is heard afar + off. He mutters, staring at the fire.] + + [Flames-flame, and flicker-ashes.] + +"No more, no more, the moon is dead, And all the people in it." + + [He sits on the couch with a piece of paper on his knees, adding + a few words with a stylo pen to what is already written.] + + [The GIRL, in a silk wrapper, coming back through the curtains, + watches him.] + +LARRY. [Looking up] It's all here--I've confessed. [Reading] + +"Please bury us together." +"LAURENCE DARRANT. +"January 28th, about six p.m." + +They'll find us in the morning. Come and have supper, my dear love. + + [The girl creeps forward. He rises, puts his arm round her, and + with her arm twined round him, smiling into each other's faces, + they go to the table and sit down.] + + The curtain falls for a few seconds to indicate the passage of + three hours. When it rises again, the lovers are lying on the + couch, in each other's arms, the lilies stream about them. The + girl's bare arm is round LARRY'S neck. Her eyes are closed; his + are open and sightless. There is no light but fire-light. + + A knocking on the door and the sound of a key turned in the + lock. KEITH enters. He stands a moment bewildered by the half- + light, then calls sharply: "Larry!" and turns up the light. + Seeing the forms on the couch, he recoils a moment. Then, + glancing at the table and empty decanters, goes up to the couch. + +KEITH. [Muttering] Asleep! Drunk! Ugh! + + [Suddenly he bends, touches LARRY, and springs back.] + +What! [He bends again, shakes him and calls] Larry! Larry! + + [Then, motionless, he stares down at his brother's open, + sightless eyes. Suddenly he wets his finger and holds it to the + girl's lips, then to LARRY'S.] + + [He bends and listens at their hearts; catches sight of the + little box lying between them and takes it up.] + +My God! + + [Then, raising himself, he closes his brother's eyes, and as he + does so, catches sight of a paper pinned to the couch; detaches + it and reads:] + +"I, Lawrence Darrant, about to die by my own hand confess that I----" + + [He reads on silently, in horror; finishes, letting the paper + drop, and recoils from the couch on to a chair at the + dishevelled supper table. Aghast, he sits there. Suddenly he + mutters:] + +If I leave that there--my name--my whole future! + + [He springs up, takes up the paper again, and again reads.] + +My God! It's ruin! + + [He makes as if to tear it across, stops, and looks down at + those two; covers his eyes with his hand; drops the paper and + rushes to the door. But he stops there and comes back, + magnetised, as it were, by that paper. He takes it up once more + and thrusts it into his pocket.] + + [The footsteps of a Policeman pass, slow and regular, outside. + His face crisps and quivers; he stands listening till they die + away. Then he snatches the paper from his pocket, and goes past + the foot of the couch to the fore.] + +All my----No! Let him hang! + + [He thrusts the paper into the fire, stamps it down with his + foot, watches it writhe and blacken. Then suddenly clutching + his head, he turns to the bodies on the couch. Panting and like + a man demented, he recoils past the head of the couch, and + rushing to the window, draws the curtains and throws the window + up for air. Out in the darkness rises the witch-like skeleton + tree, where a dark shape seems hanging. KEITH starts back.] + +What's that? What----! + + [He shuts the window and draws the dark curtains across it + again.] + +Fool! Nothing! + + [Clenching his fists, he draws himself up, steadying himself + with all his might. Then slowly he moves to the door, stands a + second like a carved figure, his face hard as stone.] + + [Deliberately he turns out the light, opens the door, and goes.] + + [The still bodies lie there before the fire which is licking at + the last blackened wafer.] + + +CURTAIN + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of THE FIRST AND LAST (play) +by John Galsworthy. + + + + + + +THE LITTLE MAN + +A FARCICAL MORALITY IN THREE SCENES + + + + +CHARACTERS + +THE LITTLE MAN. +THE AMERICAN. +THE ENGLISHMAN. +THE ENGLISHWOMAN. +THE GERMAN. +THE DUTCH BOY. +THE MOTHER. +THE BABY. +THE WAITER. +THE STATION OFFICIAL. +THE POLICEMAN. +THE PORTER. + + + + + +SCENE I + + Afternoon, on the departure platform of an Austrian railway + station. At several little tables outside the buffet persons + are taking refreshment, served by a pale young waiter. On a + seat against the wall of the buffet a woman of lowly station is + sitting beside two large bundles, on one of which she has placed + her baby, swathed in a black shawl. + +WAITER. [Approaching a table whereat sit an English traveller and +his wife] Two coffee? + +ENGLISHMAN. [Paying] Thanks. [To his wife, in an Oxford voice] +Sugar? + +ENGLISHWOMAN. [In a Cambridge voice] One. + +AMERICAN TRAVELLER. [With field-glasses and a pocket camera from +another table] Waiter, I'd like to have you get my eggs. I've been +sitting here quite a while. + +WAITER. Yes, sare. + +GERMAN TRAVELLER. 'Kellner, bezahlen'! [His voice is, like his +moustache, stiff and brushed up at the ends. His figure also is +stiff and his hair a little grey; clearly once, if not now, a +colonel.] + +WAITER. 'Komm' gleich'! + + [The baby on the bundle wails. The mother takes it up to soothe + it. A young, red-cheecked Dutchman at the fourth table stops + eating and laughs.] + +AMERICAN. My eggs! Get a wiggle on you! + +WAITER. Yes, sare. [He rapidly recedes.] + + [A LITTLE MAN in a soft hat is seen to the right of tables. He + stands a moment looking after the hurrying waiter, then seats + himself at the fifth table.] + +ENGLISHMAN. [Looking at his watch] Ten minutes more. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Bother! + +AMERICAN. [Addressing them] 'Pears as if they'd a prejudice against +eggs here, anyway. + + [The ENGLISH look at him, but do not speak. ] + +GERMAN. [In creditable English] In these places man can get +nothing. + + [The WAITER comes flying back with a compote for the DUTCH + YOUTH, who pays.] + +GERMAN. 'Kellner, bezahlen'! + +WAITER. 'Eine Krone sechzig'. + + [The GERMAN pays.] + +AMERICAN. [Rising, and taking out his watch--blandly] See here. If +I don't get my eggs before this watch ticks twenty, there'll be +another waiter in heaven. + +WAITER. [Flying] 'Komm' gleich'! + +AMERICAN. [Seeking sympathy] I'm gettin' kind of mad! + + [The ENGLISHMAN halves his newspaper and hands the advertisement + half to his wife. The BABY wails. The MOTHER rocks it.] + + [The DUTCH YOUTH stops eating and laughs. The GERMAN lights a + cigarette. The LITTLE MAN sits motionless, nursing his hat. + The WAITER comes flying back with the eggs and places them + before the AMERICAN.] + +AMERICAN. [Putting away his watch] Good! I don't like trouble. +How much? + + [He pays and eats. The WAITER stands a moment at the edge of + the platform and passes his hand across his brow. The LITTLE + MAN eyes him and speaks gently.] + +LITTLE MAN. Herr Ober! + + [The WAITER turns.] + +Might I have a glass of beer? + +WAITER. Yes, sare. + +LITTLE MAN. Thank you very much. + + [The WAITER goes.] + +AMERICAN. [Pausing in the deglutition of his eggs--affably] Pardon +me, sir; I'd like to have you tell me why you called that little bit +of a feller "Herr Ober." Reckon you would know what that means? +Mr. Head Waiter. + +LITTLE MAN. Yes, yes. + +AMERICAN. I smile. + +LITTLE MAN. Oughtn't I to call him that? + +GERMAN. [Abruptly] 'Nein--Kellner'. + +AMERICAN. Why, yes! Just "waiter." + + [The ENGLISHWOMAN looks round her paper for a second. The DUTCH + YOUTH stops eating and laughs. The LITTLE MAN gazes from face + to face and nurses his hat.] + +LITTLE MAN. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. + +GERMAN. Gott! + +AMERICAN. In my country we're very democratic--but that's quite a +proposition. + +ENGLISHMAN. [Handling coffee-pot, to his wife] More? + +ENGLISHWOMAN. No, thanks. + +GERMAN. [Abruptly] These fellows--if you treat them in this manner, +at once they take liberties. You see, you will not get your beer. + + [As he speaks the WAITER returns, bringing the LITTLE MAN'S + beer, then retires.] + +AMERICAN. That 'pears to be one up to democracy. [To the LITTLE +MAN] I judge you go in for brotherhood? + +LITTLE MAN. [Startled] Oh, no! + +AMERICAN. I take considerable stock in Leo Tolstoi myself. Grand +man--grand-souled apparatus. But I guess you've got to pinch those +waiters some to make 'em skip. [To the ENGLISH, who have carelessly +looked his way for a moment] You'll appreciate that, the way he +acted about my eggs. + + [The ENGLISH make faint motions with their chins and avert their + eyes.] + + [To the WAITER, who is standing at the door of the buffet] + +Waiter! Flash of beer--jump, now! + +WAITER. 'Komm' gleich'! + +GERMAN. 'Cigarren'! + +WAITER. 'Schon'! + + [He disappears.] + +AMERICAN. [Affably--to the LITTLE MAN] Now, if I don't get that +flash of beer quicker'n you got yours, I shall admire. + +GERMAN. [Abruptly] Tolstoi is nothing 'nichts'! No good! Ha? + +AMERICAN. [Relishing the approach of argument] Well, that is a +matter of temperament. Now, I'm all for equality. See that poor +woman there--very humble woman--there she sits among us with her +baby. Perhaps you'd like to locate her somewhere else? + +GERMAN. [Shrugging]. Tolstoi is 'sentimentalisch'. Nietzsche is +the true philosopher, the only one. + +AMERICAN. Well, that's quite in the prospectus--very stimulating +party--old Nietch--virgin mind. But give me Leo! [He turns to the +red-cheeked YOUTH] What do you opine, sir? I guess by your labels +you'll be Dutch. Do they read Tolstoi in your country? + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +AMERICAN. That is a very luminous answer. + +GERMAN. Tolstoi is nothing. Man should himself express. He must +push--he must be strong. + +AMERICAN. That is so. In America we believe in virility; we like a +man to expand. But we believe in brotherhood too. We draw the line +at niggers; but we aspire. Social barriers and distinctions we've +not much use for. + +ENGLISHMAN. Do you feel a draught? + +ENGLISHWOMAN. [With a shiver of her shoulder toward the AMERICAN] I +do--rather. + +GERMAN. Wait! You are a young people. + +AMERICAN. That is so; there are no flies on us. [To the LITTLE MAN, +who has been gazing eagerly from face to face] Say! I'd like to +have you give us your sentiments in relation to the duty of man. + + [The LITTLE MAN, fidgets, and is about to opens his mouth.] + +AMERICAN. For example--is it your opinion that we should kill off +the weak and diseased, and all that can't jump around? + +GERMAN. [Nodding] 'Ja, ja'! That is coming. + +LITTLE MAN. [Looking from face to face] They might be me. + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +AMERICAN. [Reproving him with a look] That's true humility. +'Tisn't grammar. Now, here's a proposition that brings it nearer the +bone: Would you step out of your way to help them when it was liable +to bring you trouble? + +GERMAN. 'Nein, nein'! That is stupid. + +LITTLE MAN. [Eager but wistful] I'm afraid not. Of course one +wants to--There was St Francis d'Assisi and St Julien L'Hospitalier, +and---- + +AMERICAN. Very lofty dispositions. Guess they died of them. [He +rises] Shake hands, sir--my name is--[He hands a card] I am an +ice-machine maker. [He shakes the LITTLE MAN's hand] I like your +sentiments--I feel kind of brotherly. [Catching sight of the WAITER +appearing in the doorway] Waiter; where to h-ll is that glass of +beer? + +GERMAN. Cigarren! + +WAITER. 'Komm' gleich'! + +ENGLISHMAN. [Consulting watch] Train's late. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Really! Nuisance! + + [A station POLICEMAN, very square and uniformed, passes and + repasses.] + +AMERICAN. [Resuming his seat--to the GERMAN] Now, we don't have so +much of that in America. Guess we feel more to trust in human +nature. + +GERMAN. Ah! ha! you will bresently find there is nothing in him +but self. + +LITTLE MAN. [Wistfully] Don't you believe in human nature? + +AMERICAN. Very stimulating question. + + [He looks round for opinions. The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +ENGLISHMAN. [Holding out his half of the paper to his wife] Swap! + + [His wife swaps.] + +GERMAN. In human nature I believe so far as I can see him--no more. + +AMERICAN. Now that 'pears to me kind o' blasphemy. I believe in +heroism. I opine there's not one of us settin' around here that's +not a hero--give him the occasion. + +LITTLE MAN. Oh! Do you believe that? + +AMERICAN. Well! I judge a hero is just a person that'll help +another at the expense of himself. Take that poor woman there. +Well, now, she's a heroine, I guess. She would die for her baby any +old time. + +GERMAN. Animals will die for their babies. That is nothing. + +AMERICAN. I carry it further. I postulate we would all die for that +baby if a locomotive was to trundle up right here and try to handle +it. [To the GERMAN] I guess you don't know how good you are. [As +the GERMAN is twisting up the ends of his moustache--to the +ENGLISHWOMAN] I should like to have you express an opinion, ma'am. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. I beg your pardon. + +AMERICAN. The English are very humanitarian; they have a very high +sense of duty. So have the Germans, so have the Americans. [To the +DUTCH YOUTH] I judge even in your little country they have that. +This is an epoch of equality and high-toned ideals. [To the LITTLE +MAN] What is your nationality, sir? + +LITTLE MAN. I'm afraid I'm nothing particular. My father was +half-English and half-American, and my mother half-German and +half-Dutch. + +AMERICAN. My! That's a bit streaky, any old way. [The POLICEMAN +passes again] Now, I don't believe we've much use any more for those +gentlemen in buttons. We've grown kind of mild--we don't think of +self as we used to do. + + [The WAITER has appeared in the doorway.] + +GERMAN. [In a voice of thunder] 'Cigarren! Donnerwetter'! + +AMERICAN. [Shaking his fist at the vanishing WAITER] That flash of +beer! + +WAITER. 'Komm' gleich'! + +AMERICAN. A little more, and he will join George Washington! I was +about to remark when he intruded: In this year of grace 1913 the +kingdom of Christ is quite a going concern. We are mighty near +universal brotherhood. The colonel here [He indicates the GERMAN] is +a man of blood and iron, but give him an opportunity to be +magnanimous, and he'll be right there. Oh, sir! yep! + + [The GERMAN, with a profound mixture of pleasure and cynicism, + brushes up the ends of his moustache.] + +LITTLE MAN. I wonder. One wants to, but somehow--[He shakes his +head.] + +AMERICAN. You seem kind of skeery about that. You've had experience, +maybe. I'm an optimist--I think we're bound to make the devil hum in +the near future. I opine we shall occasion a good deal of trouble to +that old party. There's about to be a holocaust of selfish +interests. The colonel there with old-man Nietch he won't know +himself. There's going to be a very sacred opportunity. + + [As he speaks, the voice of a RAILWAY OFFICIAL is heard an the + distance calling out in German. It approaches, and the words + become audible.] + +GERMAN. [Startled] 'Der Teufel'! [He gets up, and seizes the bag +beside him.] + + [The STATION OFFICIAL has appeared; he stands for a moment + casting his commands at the seated group. The DUTCH YOUTH also + rises, and takes his coat and hat. The OFFICIAL turns on his + heel and retires still issuing directions.] + +ENGLISHMAN. What does he say? + +GERMAN. Our drain has come in, de oder platform; only one minute we +haf. + + [All, have risen in a fluster.] + +AMERICAN. Now, that's very provoking. I won't get that flash of +beer. + + [There is a general scurry to gather coats and hats and wraps, + during which the lowly WOMAN is seen making desperate attempts + to deal with her baby and the two large bundles. Quite + defeated, she suddenly puts all down, wrings her hands, and + cries out: "Herr Jesu! Hilfe!" The flying procession turn + their heads at that strange cry.] + +AMERICAN. What's that? Help? + + [He continues to run. The LITTLE MAN spins round, rushes back, + picks up baby and bundle on which it was seated.] + +LITTLE MAN. Come along, good woman, come along! + + [The WOMAN picks up the other bundle and they run.] + + [The WAITER, appearing in the doorway with the bottle of beer, + watches with his tired smile.] + + + CURTAIN + + + + +SCENE II + + A second-class compartment of a corridor carriage, in motion. + In it are seated the ENGLISHMAN and his WIFE, opposite each + other at the corridor end, she with her face to the engine, he + with his back. Both are somewhat protected from the rest of the + travellers by newspapers. Next to her sits the GERMAN, and + opposite him sits the AMERICAN; next the AMERICAN in one window + corner is seated the DUTCH YOUTH; the other window corner is + taken by the GERMAN'S bag. The silence is only broken by the + slight rushing noise of the train's progression and the + crackling of the English newspapers. + +AMERICAN. [Turning to the DUTCH YOUTH] Guess I'd like that window +raised; it's kind of chilly after that old run they gave us. + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs, and goes through the motions of raising + the window. The ENGLISH regard the operation with uneasy + irritation. The GERMAN opens his bag, which reposes on the + corner seat next him, and takes out a book.] + +AMERICAN. The Germans are great readers. Very stimulating practice. +I read most anything myself! + + [The GERMAN holds up the book so that the title may be read.] + +"Don Quixote"--fine book. We Americans take considerable stock in +old man Quixote. Bit of a wild-cat--but we don't laugh at him. + +GERMAN. He is dead. Dead as a sheep. A good thing, too. + +AMERICAN. In America we have still quite an amount of chivalry. + +GERMAN. Chivalry is nothing 'sentimentalisch'. In modern days--no +good. A man must push, he must pull. + +AMERICAN. So you say. But I judge your form of chivalry is +sacrifice to the state. We allow more freedom to the individual +soul. Where there's something little and weak, we feel it kind of +noble to give up to it. That way we feel elevated. + + [As he speaks there is seen in the corridor doorway the LITTLE + MAN, with the WOMAN'S BABY still on his arm and the bundle held + in the other hand. He peers in anxiously. The ENGLISH, acutely + conscious, try to dissociate themselves from his presence with + their papers. The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +GERMAN. 'Ach'! So! + +AMERICAN. Dear me! + +LITTLE MAN. Is there room? I can't find a seat. + +AMERICAN. Why, yes! There's a seat for one. + +LITTLE MAN. [Depositing bundle outside, and heaving BABY] May I? + +AMERICAN. Come right in! + + [The GERMAN sulkily moves his bag. The LITTLE MAN comes in and + seats himself gingerly.] + +AMERICAN. Where's the mother? + +LITTLE MAN. [Ruefully] Afraid she got left behind. + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs. The ENGLISH unconsciously emerge from + their newspapers.] + +AMERICAN. My! That would appear to be quite a domestic incident. + + [The ENGLISHMAN suddenly utters a profound "Ha, Ha!" and + disappears behind his paper. And that paper and the one + opposite are seen to shake, and little sguirls and squeaks + emerge.] + +GERMAN. And you haf got her bundle, and her baby. Ha! [He cackles +drily.] + +AMERICAN. [Gravely] I smile. I guess Providence has played it +pretty low down on you. It's sure acted real mean. + + [The BABY wails, and the LITTLE MAN jigs it with a sort of + gentle desperation, looking apologetically from face to face. + His wistful glance renews the fore of merriment wherever it + alights. The AMERICAN alone preserves a gravity which seems + incapable of being broken.] + +AMERICAN. Maybe you'd better get off right smart and restore that +baby. There's nothing can act madder than a mother. + +LITTLE MAN. Poor thing, yes! What she must be suffering! + + [A gale of laughter shakes the carriage. The ENGLISH for a + moment drop their papers, the better to indulge. The LITTLE MAN + smiles a wintry smile.] + +AMERICAN. [In a lull] How did it eventuate? + +LITTLE MAN. We got there just as the train was going to start; and I +jumped, thinking I could help her up. But it moved too quickly, +and--and left her. + + [The gale of laughter blows up again.] + +AMERICAN. Guess I'd have thrown the baby out to her. + +LITTLE MAN. I was afraid the poor little thing might break. + + [The Baby wails; the LITTLE MAN heaves it; the gale of laughter + blows.] + +AMERICAN. [Gravely] It's highly entertaining--not for the baby. +What kind of an old baby is it, anyway? [He sniff's] I judge it's a +bit--niffy. + +LITTLE MAN. Afraid I've hardly looked at it yet. + +AMERICAN. Which end up is it? + +LITTLE MAM. Oh! I think the right end. Yes, yes, it is. + +AMERICAN. Well, that's something. Maybe you should hold it out of +window a bit. Very excitable things, babies! + +ENGLISHWOMAN. [Galvanized] No, no! + +ENGLISHMAN. [Touching her knee] My dear! + +AMERICAN. You are right, ma'am. I opine there's a draught out +there. This baby is precious. We've all of us got stock in this +baby in a manner of speaking. This is a little bit of universal +brotherhood. Is it a woman baby? + +LITTLE MAN. I--I can only see the top of its head. + +AMERICAN. You can't always tell from that. It looks kind of +over-wrapped up. Maybe it had better be unbound. + +GERMAN. 'Nein, nein, nein'! + +AMERICAN. I think you are very likely right, colonel. It might be a +pity to unbind that baby. I guess the lady should be consulted in +this matter. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Yes, yes, of course----! + +ENGLISHMAN. [Touching her] Let it be! Little beggar seems all +right. + +AMERICAN. That would seem only known to Providence at this moment. +I judge it might be due to humanity to look at its face. + +LITTLE MAN. [Gladly] It's sucking my' finger. There, there--nice +little thing--there! + +AMERICAN. I would surmise in your leisure moments you have created +babies, sir? + +LITTLE MAN. Oh! no--indeed, no. + +AMERICAN. Dear me!--That is a loss. [Addressing himself to the +carriage at large] I think we may esteem ourselves fortunate to have +this little stranger right here with us. Demonstrates what a hold +the little and weak have upon us nowadays. The colonel here--a man +of blood and iron--there he sits quite calm next door to it. [He +sniffs] Now, this baby is rather chastening--that is a sign of +grace, in the colonel--that is true heroism. + +LITTLE MAN. [Faintly] I--I can see its face a little now. + + [All bend forward.] + +AMERICAN. What sort of a physiognomy has it, anyway? + +LITTLE MAN. [Still faintly] I don't see anything but--but spots. + +GERMAN. Oh! Ha! Pfui! + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +AMERICAN. I am told that is not uncommon amongst babies. Perhaps we +could have you inform us, ma'am. + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Yes, of course--only what sort of---- + +LITTLE MAN. They seem all over its----[At the slight recoil of +everyone] I feel sure it's--it's quite a good baby underneath. + +AMERICAN. That will be rather difficult to come at. I'm just a bit +sensitive. I've very little use for affections of the epidermis. + +GERMAN. Pfui! [He has edged away as far as he can get, and is +lighting a big cigar] + + [The DUTCH YOUTH draws his legs back.] + +AMERICAN. [Also taking out a cigar] I guess it would be well to +fumigate this carriage. Does it suffer, do you think? + +LITTLE MAN. [Peering] Really, I don't--I'm not sure--I know so +little about babies. I think it would have a nice expression--if--if +it showed. + +AMERICAN. Is it kind of boiled looking? + +LITTLE MAN. Yes--yes, it is. + +AMERICAN. [Looking gravely round] I judge this baby has the +measles. + + [The GERMAN screws himself spasmodically against the arm of the + ENGLISHWOMAN'S seat.] + +ENGLISHWOMAN. Poor little thing! Shall I----? + + [She half rises.] + +ENGLISHMAN. [Touching her] No, no----Dash it! + +AMERICAN. I honour your emotion, ma'am. It does credit to us all. +But I sympathize with your husband too. The measles is a very +important pestilence in connection with a grown woman. + +LITTLE MAN. It likes my finger awfully. Really, it's rather a sweet +baby. + +AMERICAN. [Sniffing] Well, that would appear to be quite a +question. About them spots, now? Are they rosy? + +LITTLE MAN. No-o; they're dark, almost black. + +GERMAN. Gott! Typhus! [He bounds up on to the arm of the +ENGLISHWOMAN'S Seat.] + +AMERICAN. Typhus! That's quite an indisposition! + + [The DUTCH YOUTH rises suddenly, and bolts out into the + corridor. He is followed by the GERMAN, puffing clouds of + smoke. The ENGLISH and AMERICAN sit a moment longer without + speaking. The ENGLISHWOMAN'S face is turned with a curious + expression--half pity, half fear--towards the LITTLE MAN. Then + the ENGLISHMAN gets up.] + +ENGLISHMAN. Bit stuffy for you here, dear, isn't it? + + [He puts his arm through hers, raises her, and almost pushes her + through the doorway. She goes, still looking back.] + +AMERICAN. [Gravely] There's nothing I admire more'n courage. Guess +I'll go and smoke in the corridor. + + [As he goes out the LITTLE MAN looks very wistfully after him. + Screwing up his mouth and nose, he holds the BABY away from him + and wavers; then rising, he puts it on the seat opposite and + goes through the motions of letting down the window. Having + done so he looks at the BABY, who has begun to wail. Suddenly + he raises his hands and clasps them, like a child praying. + Since, however, the BABY does not stop wailing, he hovers over + it in indecision; then, picking it up, sits down again to dandle + it, with his face turned toward the open window. Finding that + it still wails, he begins to sing to it in a cracked little + voice. It is charmed at once. While he is singing, the + AMERICAN appears in the corridor. Letting down the passage + window, he stands there in the doorway with the draught blowing + his hair and the smoke of his cigar all about him. The LITTLE + MAN stops singing and shifts the shawl higher to protect the + BABY'S head from the draught.] + +AMERICAN. [Gravely] This is the most sublime spectacle I have ever +envisaged. There ought to be a record of this. + + [The LITTLE MAN looks at him, wondering. You are typical, sir, + of the sentiments of modern Christianity. You illustrate the + deepest feelings in the heart of every man.] + + [The LITTLE MAN rises with the BABY and a movement of approach.] + +Guess I'm wanted in the dining-car. + + [He vanishes. The LITTLE MAN sits down again, but back to the + engine, away from the draught, and looks out of the window, + patiently jogging the BABY On his knee.] + + + CURTAIN + + + +SCENE III + + An arrival platform. The LITTLE MAN, with the BABY and the + bundle, is standing disconsolate, while travellers pass and + luggage is being carried by. A STATION OFFICIAL, accompanied by + a POLICEMAN, appears from a doorway, behind him. + +OFFICIAL. [Consulting telegram in his hand] 'Das ist der Herr'. + + [They advance to the LITTLE MAN.] + +OFFICIAL. 'Sie haben einen Buben gestohlen'? + +LITTLE MAN. I only speak English and American. + +OFFICIAL. 'Dies ist nicht Ihr Bube'? + + [He touches the Baby.] + +LITTLE MAN. [Shaking his head] Take care--it's ill. + + [The man does not understand.] + +Ill--the baby---- + +OFFICIAL. [Shaking his head] 'Verstehe nicht'. Dis is nod your baby? +No? + +LITTLE MAN. [Shaking his head violently] No, it is not. No. + +OFFICIAL. [Tapping the telegram] Gut! You are 'rested. [He signs +to the POLICEMAN, who takes the LITTLE MAN's arm.] + +LITTLE MAN. Why? I don't want the poor baby. + +OFFICIAL. [Lifting the bundle] 'Dies ist nicht Ihr Gepack'--pag? + +LITTLE Mary. No. + +OFFICIAL. Gut! You are 'rested. + +LITTLE MAN. I only took it for the poor woman. I'm not a thief-- +I'm--I'm---- + +OFFICIAL. [Shaking head] Verstehe nicht. + + [The LITTLE MAN tries to tear his hair. The disturbed BABY + wails.] + +LITTLE MAN. [Dandling it as best he can] There, there--poor, poor! + +OFFICIAL. Halt still! You are 'rested. It is all right. + +LITTLE MAN. Where is the mother? + +OFFICIAL. She comet by next drain. Das telegram say: 'Halt einen +Herren mit schwarzem Buben and schwarzem Gepack'. 'Rest gentleman +mit black baby and black--pag. + + [The LITTLE MAN turns up his eyes to heaven.] + +OFFICIAL. 'Komm mit us'. + + [They take the LITTLE MAN toward the door from which they have + come. A voice stops them.] + +AMERICAN. [Speaking from as far away as may be] Just a moment! + + [The OFFICIAL stops; the LITTLE MAN also stops and sits down on + a bench against the wall. The POLICEMAN stands stolidly beside + him. The AMERICAN approaches a step or two, beckoning; the + OFFICIAL goes up to him.] + +AMERICAN. Guess you've got an angel from heaven there! What's the +gentleman in buttons for? + +OFFICIAL. 'Was ist das'? + +AMERICAN. Is there anybody here that can understand American? + +OFFICIAL. 'Verstehe nicht'. + +AMERICAN. Well, just watch my gestures. I was saying [He points to +the LITTLE MAN, then makes gestures of flying] you have an angel +from heaven there. You have there a man in whom Gawd [He points +upward] takes quite an amount of stock. You have no call to arrest +him. [He makes the gesture of arrest] No, Sir. Providence has +acted pretty mean, loading off that baby on him. [He makes the +motion of dandling] The little man has a heart of gold. [He points +to his heart, and takes out a gold coin.] + +OFFICIAL. [Thinking he is about to be bribed] 'Aber, das ist zu +viel'! + +AMERICAN. Now, don't rattle me! [Pointing to the LITTLE MAN] Man +[Pointing to his heart] 'Herz' [Pointing to the coin] 'von' Gold. +This is a flower of the field--he don't want no gentleman in buttons +to pluck him up. + + [A little crowd is gathering, including the Two ENGLISH, the + GERMAN, and the DUTCH YOUTH.] + +OFFICIAL. 'Verstehe absolut nichts'. [He taps the telegram] 'Ich muss +mein' duty do. + +AMERICAN. But I'm telling you. This is a white man. This is +probably the whitest man on Gawd's earth. + +OFFICIAL. 'Das macht nichts'--gut or no gut, I muss mein duty do. +[He turns to go toward the LITTLE MAN.] + +AMERICAN. Oh! Very well, arrest him; do your duty. This baby has +typhus. + + [At the word "typhus" the OFFICIAL stops.] + +AMERICAN. [Making gestures] First-class typhus, black typhus, +schwarzen typhus. Now you have it. I'm kind o' sorry for you and +the gentleman in buttons. Do your duty! + +OFFICIAL. Typhus? Der Bub--die baby hat typhus? + +AMERICAN. I'm telling you. + +OFFICIAL. Gott im Himmel! + +AMERICAN. [Spotting the GERMAN in the little throng] here's a +gentleman will corroborate me. + +OFFICIAL. [Much disturbed, and signing to the POLICEMAN to stand +clear] Typhus! 'Aber das ist grasslich'! + +AMERICAN. I kind o' thought you'd feel like that. + +OFFICIAL. 'Die Sanitatsmachine! Gleich'! + + [A PORTER goes to get it. From either side the broken half-moon + of persons stand gazing at the LITTLE MAN, who sits unhappily + dandling the BABY in the centre.] + +OFFICIAL. [Raising his hands] 'Was zu thun'? + +AMERICAN. Guess you'd better isolate the baby. + + [A silence, during which the LITTLE MAN is heard faintly + whistling and clucking to the BABY.] + +OFFICIAL. [Referring once more to his telegram] + +"'Rest gentleman mit black baby." [Shaking his head] Wir must de +gentleman hold. [To the GERMAN] 'Bitte, mein Herr, sagen Sie ihm, +den Buben zu niedersetzen'. [He makes the gesture of deposit.] + +GERMAN. [To the LITTLE MAN] He say: Put down the baby. + + [The LITTLE MAN shakes his head, and continues to dandle the + BABY.] + +OFFICIAL. You must. + + [The LITTLE MAN glowers, in silence.] + +ENGLISHMAN. [In background--muttering] Good man! + +GERMAN. His spirit ever denies. + +OFFICIAL. [Again making his gesture] 'Aber er muss'! + + [The LITTLE MAN makes a face at him.] + +'Sag' Ihm': Instantly put down baby, and komm' mit us. + + [The BABY wails.] + +LITTLE MAN. Leave the poor ill baby here alone? Be--be--be d---d to +you! + +AMERICAN. [Jumping on to a trunk--with enthusiasm] Bully! + + [The ENGLISH clap their hands; the DUTCH YOUTH laughs. The + OFFICIAL is muttering, greatly incensed.] + +AMERICAN. What does that body-snatcher say? + +GERMAN. He say this man use the baby to save himself from arrest. +Very smart he say. + +AMERICAN. I judge you do him an injustice. [Showing off the LITTLE +MAN with a sweep of his arm.] This is a white man. He's got a black +baby, and he won' leave it in the lurch. Guess we would all act +noble that way, give us the chance. + + [The LITTLE MAN rises, holding out the BABY, and advances a step + or two. The half-moon at once gives, increasing its size; the + AMERICAN climbs on to a higher trunk. The LITTLE MAN retires + and again sits down.] + +AMERICAN. [Addressing the OFFICIAL] Guess you'd better go out of +business and wait for the mother. + +OFFICIAL. [Stamping his foot] Die Mutter sall 'rested be for taking +out baby mit typhus. Ha! [To the LITTLE MAN] Put ze baby down! + + [The LITTLE MAN smiles.] + +Do you 'ear? + +AMERICAN. [Addressing the OFFICIAL] Now, see here. 'Pears to me +you don't suspicion just how beautiful this is. Here we have a man +giving his life for that old baby that's got no claim on him. This +is not a baby of his own making. No, sir, this is a very Christ-like +proposition in the gentleman. + +OFFICIAL. Put ze baby down, or ich will gommand someone it to do. + +AMERICAN. That will be very interesting to watch. + +OFFICIAL. [To POLICEMAN] Dake it vrom him. + + [The POLICEMAN mutters, but does not.] + +AMERICAN. [To the German] Guess I lost that. + +GERMAN. He say he is not his officier. + +AMERICAN. That just tickles me to death. + +OFFICIAL. [Looking round] Vill nobody dake ze Bub'? + +ENGLISHWOMAN. [Moving a step faintly] Yes--I---- + +ENGLISHMAN. [Grasping her arm]. By Jove! Will you! + +OFFICIAL. [Gathering himself for a great effort to take the BABY, +and advancing two steps] Zen I goummand you--[He stops and his voice +dies away] Zit dere! + +AMERICAN. My! That's wonderful. What a man this is! What a +sublime sense of duty! + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs. The OFFICIAL turns on him, but as he + does so the MOTHER of the Busy is seen hurrying.] + +MOTHER. 'Ach! Ach! Mei' Bubi'! + + [Her face is illumined; she is about to rush to the LITTLE MAN.] + +OFFICIAL. [To the POLICEMAN] 'Nimm die Frau'! + + [The POLICEMAN catches hold of the WOMAN.] + +OFFICIAL. [To the frightened WOMAN] 'Warum haben Sie einen Buben mit +Typhus mit ausgebracht'? + +AMERICAN. [Eagerly, from his perch] What was that? I don't want to +miss any. + +GERMAN. He say: Why did you a baby with typhus with you bring out? + +AMERICAN. Well, that's quite a question. + + [He takes out the field-glasses slung around him and adjusts + them on the BABY.] + +MOTHER. [Bewildered] Mei' Bubi--Typhus--aber Typhus? [She shakes +her head violently] 'Nein, nein, nein! Typhus'! + +OFFICIAL. Er hat Typhus. + +MOTHER. [Shaking her head] 'Nein, nein, nein'! + +AMERICAN. [Looking through his glasses] Guess she's kind of right! +I judge the typhus is where the baby' slobbered on the shawl, and +it's come off on him. + + [The DUTCH YOUTH laughs.] + +OFFICIAL. [Turning on him furiously] Er hat Typhus. + +AMERICAN. Now, that's where you slop over. Come right here. + + [The OFFICIAL mounts, and looks through the glasses.] + +AMERICAN. [To the LITTLE MAN] Skin out the baby's leg. If we don't +locate spots on that, it'll be good enough for me. + + [The LITTLE MAN fumbles Out the BABY'S little white foot.] + +MOTHER. Mei' Bubi! [She tries to break away.] + +AMERICAN. White as a banana. [To the OFFICIAL--affably] Guess +you've made kind of a fool of us with your old typhus. + +OFFICIAL. Lass die Frau! + + [The POLICEMAN lets her go, and she rushes to her BABY.] + +MOTHER. Mei' Bubi! + + [The BABY, exchanging the warmth of the LITTLE MAN for the + momentary chill of its MOTHER, wails.] + +OFFICIAL. [Descending and beckoning to the POLICEMAN] 'Sie wollen +den Herrn accusiren'? + + [The POLICEMAN takes the LITTLE MAN's arm.] + +AMERICAN. What's that? They goin' to pitch him after all? + + [The MOTHER, still hugging her BABY, who has stopped crying, + gazes at the LITTLE MAN, who sits dazedly looking up. Suddenly + she drops on her knees, and with her free hand lifts his booted + foot and kisses it.] + +AMERICAN. [Waving his hat] Ra! Ra! [He descends swiftly, goes up +to the LITTLE MAN, whose arm the POLICEMAN has dropped, and takes his +hand] Brother; I am proud to know you. This is one of the greatest +moments I have ever experienced. [Displaying the LITTLE MAN to the +assembled company] I think I sense the situation when I say that we +all esteem it an honour to breathe the rather inferior atmosphere of +this station here Along with our little friend. I guess we shall all +go home and treasure the memory of his face as the whitest thing in +our museum of recollections. And perhaps this good woman will also +go home and wash the face of our little brother here. I am inspired +with a new faith in mankind. Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to present +to you a sure-enough saint--only wants a halo, to be transfigured. +[To the LITTLE MAN] Stand right up. + + [The LITTLE MAN stands up bewildered. They come about him. The + OFFICIAL bows to him, the POLICEMAN salutes him. The DUTCH + YOUTH shakes his head and laughs. The GERMAN draws himself up + very straight, and bows quickly twice. The ENGLISHMAN and his + WIFE approach at least two steps, then, thinking better of it, + turn to each other and recede. The MOTHER kisses his hand. The + PORTER returning with the Sanitatsmachine, turns it on from + behind, and its pinkish shower, goldened by a ray of sunlight, + falls around the LITTLE MAN's head, transfiguring it as he + stands with eyes upraised to see whence the portent comes.] + +AMERICAN. [Rushing forward and dropping on his knees] Hold on just +a minute! Guess I'll take a snapshot of the miracle. [He adjusts +his pocket camera] This ought to look bully! + + + + +CURTAIN + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of THE LITTLE MAN (Play) +by John Galsworthy. + + + + + + +HALL-MARKED + +A SATIRIC TRIFLE + + + +CHARACTERS + +HERSELF. +LADY ELLA. +THE SQUIRE. +THE MAID. +MAUD. +THE RECTOR. +THE DOCTOR. +THE CABMAN. +HANNIBAL and EDWARD + + + + + HALL-MARKED + + + The scene is the sitting-room and verandah of HER bungalow. + + The room is pleasant, and along the back, where the verandah + runs, it seems all window, both French and casement. There is a + door right and a door left. The day is bright; the time + morning. + + [HERSELF, dripping wet, comes running along the verandah, + through the French window, with a wet Scotch terrier in her + arms. She vanishes through the door left. A little pause, and + LADY ELLA comes running, dry, thin, refined, and agitated. She + halts where the tracks of water cease at the door left. A + little pause, and MAUD comes running, fairly dry, stolid, + breathless, and dragging a bull-dog, wet, breathless, and stout, + by the crutch end of her 'en-tout-cas']. + +LADY ELLA. Don't bring Hannibal in till I know where she's put +Edward! + +MAUD. [Brutally, to HANNIBAL] Bad dog! Bad dog! + + [HANNIBAL snuffles.] + +LADY ELLA. Maud, do take him out! Tie him up. Here! [She takes +out a lace handkerchief ] No--something stronger! Poor darling +Edward! [To HANNIBAL] You are a bad dog! + + [HANNIBAL snuffles.] + +MAUD. Edward began it, Ella. [To HANNIBAL] Bad dog! Bad dog! + + [HANNIBAL snuffles.] + +LADY ELLA. Tie him up outside. Here, take my scarf. Where is my +poor treasure? [She removes her scarf] Catch! His ear's torn; I +saw it. + +MAUD. [Taking the scarf, to HANNIBAL] Now! + + [HANNIBAL snuffles.] + + [She ties the scarf to his collar] + +He smells horrible. Bad dog--getting into ponds to fight! + +LADY ELLA. Tie him up, Maud. I must try in here. + + [Their husbands, THE SQUIRE and THE RECTOR, come hastening along + the verandah.] + +MAUD. [To THE RECTOR] Smell him, Bertie! [To THE SQUIRE] You +might have that pond drained, Squire! + + [She takes HANNIBAL out, and ties him to the verandah. THE + SQUIRE and RECTOR Come in. LADY ELLA is knocking on the door + left.] + +HER VOICE. All right! I've bound him up! + +LADY ELLA. May I come in? + +HER VOICE. Just a second! I've got nothing on. + + [LADY ELLA recoils. THE SQUIRE and RECTOR make an involuntary + movement of approach.] + +LADY ELLA. Oh! There you are! + +THE RECTOR. [Doubtfully] I was just going to wade in---- + +LADY ELLA. Hannibal would have killed him, if she hadn't rushed in! + +THE SQUIRE. Done him good, little beast! + +LADY ELLA. Why didn't you go in, Tommy? + +THE SQUIRE. Well, I would--only she---- + +LADY ELLA. I can't think how she got Edward out of Hannibal's awful +mouth! + +MAUD. [Without--to HANNIBAL, who is snuffling on the verandah and +straining at the scarf] Bad dog! + +LADY ELLA. We must simply thank her tremendously! I shall never +forget the way she ran in, with her skirts up to her waist! + +THE SQUIRE. By Jove! No. It was topping. + +LADY ELLA. Her clothes must be ruined. That pond--ugh! [She +wrinkles her nose] Tommy, do have it drained. + +THE RECTOR. [Dreamily] I don't remember her face in church. + +THE SQUIRE. Ah! Yes. Who is she? Pretty woman! + +LADY ELLA. I must get the Vet. to Edward. [To THE SQUIRE] Tommy, +do exert yourself! + + [MAUD re-enters.] + +THE SQUIRE. All right! [Exerting himself] Here's a bell! + +HER VOICE. [Through the door] The bleeding's stopped. Shall I send +him in to you? + +LADY ELLA. Oh, please! Poor darling! + + [They listen.] + + [LADY ELLA, prepares to receive EDWARD. THE SQUIRE and RECTOR + stand transfixed. The door opens, and a bare arm gently pushes + EDWARD forth. He is bandaged with a smooth towel. There is a + snuffle--HANNIBAL has broken the scarf, outside.] + +LADY ELLA. [Aghast] Look! Hannibal's loose! Maud--Tommy. [To THE +RECTOR] You! + + [The THREE rush to prevent HANNIBAL from re-entering.] + +LADY ELLA. [To EDWARD] Yes, I know--you'd like to! You SHALL bite +him when it's safe. Oh! my darling, you DO----[She sniffs]. + + [MAUD and THE SQUIRE re-enter.] + +Have you tied him properly this time? + +MAUD. With Bertie's braces. + +LADY ELLA. Oh! but---- + +MAUD. It's all right; they're almost leather. + + [THE RECTOR re-enters, with a slight look of insecurity.] + +LADY ELLA. Rector, are you sure it's safe? + +THE RECTOR. [Hitching at his trousers] No, indeed, LADY Ella--I---- + +LADY ELLA. Tommy, do lend a hand! + +THE SQUIRE. All right, Ella; all right! He doesn't mean what you +mean! + +LADY ELLA. [Transferring EDWARD to THE SQUIRE] Hold him, Tommy. +He's sure to smell out Hannibal! + +THE SQUIRE. [Taking EDWARD by the collar, and holding his own nose] +Jove! Clever if he can smell anything but himself. Phew! She ought +to have the Victoria Cross for goin' in that pond. + + [The door opens, and HERSELF appears; a fine, frank, handsome + woman, in a man's orange-coloured motor-coat, hastily thrown on + over the substrata of costume.] + +SHE. So very sorry--had to have a bath, and change, of course! + +LADY ELLA. We're so awfully grateful to you. It was splendid. + +MAUD. Quite. + +THE RECTOR. [Rather holding himself together] Heroic! I was just +myself about to---- + +THE SQUIRE. [Restraining EDWARD] Little beast will fight--must +apologise--you were too quick for me---- + + [He looks up at her. She is smiling, and regarding the wounded + dog, her head benevolently on one side.] + +SHE. Poor dears! They thought they were so safe in that nice pond! + +LADY ELLA. Is he very badly torn? + +SHE. Rather nasty. There ought to be a stitch or two put in his +ear. + +LADY ELLA. I thought so. Tommy, do---- + +THE SQUIRE. All right. Am I to let him go? + +LADY ELLA. No. + +MAUD. The fly's outside. Bertie, run and tell Jarvis to drive in +for the Vet. + +THE RECTOR. [Gentle and embarrassed] Run? Well, Maud--I---- + +SHE. The doctor would sew it up. My maid can go round. + + [HANNIBAL. appears at the open casement with the broken braces + dangling from his collar.] + +LADY ELLA. Look! Catch him! Rector! + +MAUD. Bertie! Catch him! + + [THE RECTOR seizes HANNIBAL, but is seen to be in difficulties + with his garments. HERSELF, who has gone out left, returns, + with a leather strop in one hand and a pair of braces in the + other.] + +SHE. Take this strop--he can't break that. And would these be any +good to you? + + [SHE hands the braces to MAUD and goes out on to the verandah + and hastily away. MAUD, transferring the braces to the RECTOR, + goes out, draws HANNIBAL from the casement window, and secures + him with the strap. THE RECTOR sits suddenly with the braces in + his hands. There is a moment's peace.] + +LADY ELLA. Splendid, isn't she? I do admire her. + +THE SQUIRE. She's all there. + +THE RECTOR. [Feelingly] Most kind. + + [He looks ruefully at the braces and at LADY ELLA. A silence. + MAUD reappears at the door and stands gazing at the braces.] + +THE SQUIRE. [Suddenly] Eh? + +MAUD. Yes. + +THE SQUIRE. [Looking at his wife] Ah! + +LADY ELLA. [Absorbed in EDWARD] Poor darling! + +THE SQUIRE. [Bluntly] Ella, the Rector wants to get up! + +THE RECTOR. [Gently] Perhaps--just for a moment---- + +LADY ELLA. Oh! [She turns to the wall.] + + [THE RECTOR, screened by his WIFE, retires on to the verandah to + adjust his garments.] + +THE SQUIRE. [Meditating] So she's married! + +LADY ELLA. [Absorbed in EDWARD] Why? + +THE SQUIRE. Braces. + +LADY ELLA. Oh! Yes. We ought to ask them to dinner, Tommy. + +THE SQUIRE. Ah! Yes. Wonder who they are? + + [THE RECTOR and MAUD reappear.] + +THE RECTOR. Really very good of her to lend her husband's--I was-- +er--quite---- + +MAUD. That'll do, Bertie. + + [THEY see HER returning along the verandah, followed by a sandy, + red-faced gentleman in leather leggings, with a needle and + cotton in his hand.] + +HERSELF. Caught the doctor just starting, So lucky! + +LADY ELLA. Oh! Thank goodness! + +DOCTOR. How do, Lady Ella? How do, Squire?--how do, Rector? [To +MAUD] How de do? This the beastie? I see. Quite! Who'll hold him +for me? + +LADY ELLA. Oh! I! + +HERSELF. D'you know, I think I'd better. It's so dreadful when it's +your own, isn't it? Shall we go in here, doctor? Come along, pretty +boy! + + [She takes EDWARD, and they pass into the room, left.] + +LADY ELLA. I dreaded it. She is splendid! + +THE SQUIRE. Dogs take to her. That's a sure sign. + +THE RECTOR. Little things--one can always tell. + +THE SQUIRE. Something very attractive about her--what! Fine build +of woman. + +MAUD. I shall get hold of her for parish work. + +THE RECTOR. Ah! Excellent--excellent! Do! + +THE SQUIRE. Wonder if her husband shoots? She seems +quite-er--quite---- + +LADY ELLA. [Watching the door] Quite! Altogether charming; one of +the nicest faces I ever saw. + + [THE DOCTOR comes out alone.] + +Oh! Doctor--have you? is it----? + +DOCTOR. Right as rain! She held him like an angel--he just licked +her, and never made a sound. + +LADY ELLA. Poor darling! Can I---- + + [She signs toward the door.] + +DOCTOR. Better leave 'em a minute. She's moppin' 'im off. [He +wrinkles his nose] Wonderful clever hands! + +THE SQUIRE. I say--who is she? + +DOCTOR. [Looking from face to face with a dubious and rather +quizzical expression] Who? Well--there you have me! All I know is +she's a first-rate nurse--been helpin' me with a case in Ditch Lane. +Nice woman, too--thorough good sort! Quite an acquisition here. +H'm! [Again that quizzical glance] Excuse me hurryin' off--very +late. Good-bye, Rector. Good-bye, Lady Ella. Good-bye! + + [He goes. A silence.] + +THE SQUIRE. H'm! I suppose we ought to be a bit careful. + + [JARVIS, flyman of the old school, has appeared on the + verandah.] + +JARVIS. [To THE RECTOR] Beg pardon, sir. Is the little dog all +right? + +MAUD. Yes. + +JARVIS. [Touching his hat] Seein' you've missed your train, m'm, +shall I wait, and take you 'ome again? + +MAUD. No. + +JARVIS. Cert'nly, m'm. [He touches his hat with a circular gesture, +and is about to withdraw.] + +LADY ELLA. Oh, Jarvis--what's the name of the people here? + +JARVIS. Challenger's the name I've driven 'em in, my lady. + +THE SQUIRE. Challenger? Sounds like a hound. What's he like? + +JARVIS. [Scratching his head] Wears a soft 'at, sir. + +THE SQUIRE. H'm! Ah! + +JARVIS. Very nice gentleman, very nice lady. 'Elped me with my old +mare when she 'ad the 'ighsteria last week--couldn't 'a' been kinder +if they'd 'a' been angels from 'eaven. Wonderful fond o' dumb +animals, the two of 'em. I don't pay no attention to gossip, meself. + +MAUD. Gossip? What gossip? + +JARVIS. [Backing] Did I make use of the word, m'm? You'll excuse +me, I'm sure. There's always talk where there's newcomers. I takes +people as I finds 'em. + + +THE RECTOR. Yes, yes, Jarvis--quite--quite right! + +JARVIS. Yes, sir. I've--I've got a 'abit that way at my time o' +life. + +MAUD. [Sharply] How long have they been here, Jarvis? + +JARVIS. Well---er--a matter of three weeks, m'm. + + [A slight involuntary stir.] + +[Apologetic] Of course, in my profession I can't afford to take +notice of whether there's the trifle of a ring between 'em, as the +sayin' is. 'Tisn't 'ardly my business like. + + [A silence.] + +LADY ELLA. [Suddenly] Er--thank you, Jarvis; you needn't wait. + +JARVIS. No, m'lady. Your service, sir--service, m'm. + + [He goes. A silence.] + +THE SQUIRE. [Drawing a little closer] Three weeks? I say--er-- +wasn't. there a book? + +THE RECTOR. [Abstracted] Three weeks----I certainly haven't seen +them in church. + +MAUD. A trifle of a ring! + +LADY ELLA. [Impulsively] Oh, bother! I'm sure she's all right. +And if she isn't, I don't care. She's been much too splendid. + +THE SQUIRE. Must think of the village. Didn't quite like the +doctor's way of puttin' us off. + +LADY ELLA. The poor darling owes his life to her. + +THE SQUIRE. H'm! Dash it! Yes! Can't forget the way she ran into +that stinkin' pond. + +MAUD. Had she a wedding-ring on? + + [They look at each other, but no one knows.] + +LADY ELLA. Well, I'm not going to be ungrateful. + +THE SQUIRE. It'd be dashed awkward--mustn't take a false step, Ella. + +THE RECTOR. And I've got his braces! [He puts his hand to his +waist.] + +MAUD. [Warningly] Bertie! + +THE SQUIRE. That's all right, Rector--we're goin' to be perfectly +polite, and--and--thank her, and all that. + +LADY ELLA. We can see she's a good sort. What does it matter? + +MAUD. My dear Ella! "What does it matter!" We've got to know. + +THE RECTOR. We do want light. + +THE SQUIRE. I'll ring the bell. [He rings.] + + [They look at each other aghast.] + +LADY ELLA. What did you ring for, Tommy? + +THE SQUIRE. [Flabbergasted] God knows! + +MAUD. Somebody'll come. + +THE SQUIRE. Rector--you--you've got to---- + +MAUD. Yes, Bertie. + +THE RECTOR. Dear me! But--er--what--er----How? + +THE SQUIRE. [Deeply-to himself] The whole thing's damn delicate. + + [The door right is opened and a MAID appears. She is a + determined-looking female. They face her in silence.] + +THE RECTOR. Er--er----your master is not in? + +THE MAID. No. 'E's gone up to London. + +THE RECTOR. Er----Mr Challenger, I think? + +THE MAID. Yes. + +THE RECTOR. Yes! Er----quite so + +THE MAID. [Eyeing them] D'you want--Mrs Challenger? + +THE RECTOR. Ah! Not precisely---- + +THE SQUIRE. [To him in a low, determined voice] Go on. + +THE RECTOR. [Desperately] I asked because there was a--a--Mr. +Challenger I used to know in the 'nineties, and I thought--you +wouldn't happen to know how long they've been married? My friend +marr---- + +THE MAID. Three weeks. + +THE RECTOR. Quite so--quite so! I shall hope it will turn out to +be----Er--thank you--Ha! + +LADY ELLA. Our dog has been fighting with the Rector's, and Mrs +Challenger rescued him; she's bathing his ear. We're waiting to +thank her. You needn't---- + +THE MAID. [Eyeing them] No. + + [She turns and goes out.] + +THE SQUIRE. Phew! What a gorgon! I say, Rector, did you really +know a Challenger in the 'nineties? + +THE RECTOR. [Wiping his brow] No. + +THE SQUIRE. Ha! Jolly good! + +LADY ELLA. Well, you see!--it's all right. + +THE RECTOR. Yes, indeed. A great relief! + +LADY ELLA. [Moving to the door] I must go in now. + +THE SQUIRE. Hold on! You goin' to ask 'em to--to--anything? + +LADY ELLA. Yes. + +MAUD. I shouldn't. + +LADY ELLA. Why not? We all like the look of her. + +THE RECTOR. I think we should punish ourselves for entertaining that +uncharitable thought. + +LADY ELLA. Yes. It's horrible not having the courage to take people +as they are. + +THE SQUIRE. As they are? H'm! How can you till you know? + +LADY ELLA. Trust our instincts, of course. + +THE SQUIRE. And supposing she'd turned out not married--eh! + +LADY ELLA! She'd still be herself, wouldn't she? + +MAUD. Ella! + +THE SQUIRE. H'm! Don't know about that. + +LADY ELLA. Of course she would, Tommy. + +THE RECTOR. [His hand stealing to his waist] Well! It's a great +weight off my----! + +LADY ELLA. There's the poor darling snuffling. I must go in. + + [She knocks on the door. It is opened, and EDWARD comes out + briskly, with a neat little white pointed ear-cap on one ear.] + +LADY ELLA. Precious! + + [SHE HERSELF Comes out, now properly dressed in flax-blue + linen.] + +LADY ELLA. How perfectly sweet of you to make him that! + +SHE. He's such a dear. And the other poor dog? + +MAUD. Quite safe, thanks to your strop. + + [HANNIBAL appears at the window, with the broken strop dangling. + Following her gaze, they turn and see him.] + +MAUD. Oh! There, he's broken it. Bertie! + +SHE. Let me! [She seizes HANNIBAL.] + +THE SQUIRE. We're really most tremendously obliged to you. Afraid +we've been an awful nuisance. + +SHE. Not a bit. I love dogs. + +THE SQUIRE. Hope to make the acquaintance of Mr----of your husband. + +LADY ELLA. [To EDWARD, who is straining] + + [Gently, darling! Tommy, take him.] + + [THE SQUIRE does so.] + +MAUD. [Approaching HANNIBAL.] Is he behaving? + + [She stops short, and her face suddenly shoots forward at HER + hands that are holding HANNIBAL'S neck.] + +SHE. Oh! yes--he's a love. + +MAUD. [Regaining her upright position, and pursing her lips; in a +peculiar voice] Bertie, take Hannibal. + +THE RECTOR takes him. + +LADY ELLA. [Producing a card] I can't be too grateful for all +you've done for my poor darling. This is where we live. Do come-- +and see---- + + [MAUD, whose eyes have never left those hands, tweaks LADY + ELLA's dress.] + +LADY ELLA. That is--I'm--I---- + + [HERSELF looks at LADY ELLA in surprise.] + +THE SQUIRE. I don't know if your husband shoots, but if---- + + [MAUD, catching his eye, taps the third finger of her left + hand.] + +--er--he--does--er--er---- + + [HERSELF looks at THE SQUIRE surprised.] + +MAUD. [Turning to her husband, repeats the gesture with the low and +simple word] Look! + +THE RECTOR. [With round eyes, severely] Hannibal! [He lifts him +bodily and carries him away.] + +MAUD. Don't squeeze him, Bertie! + + [She follows through the French window.] + +THE SQUIRE. [Abruptly--of the unoffending EDWARD] That dog'll be +forgettin' himself in a minute. + + [He picks up EDWARD and takes him out.] + + [LADY ELLA is left staring.] + +LADY ELLA. [At last] You mustn't think, I----You mustn't think, we +----Oh! I must just see they--don't let Edward get at Hannibal. + + [She skims away.] + + [HERSELF is left staring after LADY ELLA, in surprise.] + +SHE. What is the matter with them? + + [The door is opened.] + +THE MAID. [Entering and holding out a wedding-ring--severely] You +left this, m'm, in the bathroom. + +SHE. [Looking, startled, at her finger] Oh! [Taking it] I hadn't +missed it. Thank you, Martha. + + [THE MAID goes.] + + [A hand, slipping in at the casement window, softly lays a pair + of braces on the windowsill. SHE looks at the braces, then at + the ring. HER lip curls.] + +Sue. [Murmuring deeply] Ah! + + + CURTAIN + + + + + + + +DEFEAT + +A TINY DRAMA + + + +CHARACTERS + +THE OFFICER. +THE GIRL. + + + DEFEAT + + During the Great War. Evening. + + + + An empty room. The curtains drawn and gas turned low. The + furniture and walls give a colour-impression as of greens and + beetroot. There is a prevalence of plush. A fireplace on the + Left, a sofa, a small table; the curtained window is at the + back. On the table, in a common pot, stands a little plant of + maidenhair fern, fresh and green. + + Enter from the door on the Right, a GIRL and a YOUNG OFFICER in + khaki. The GIRL wears a discreet dark dress, hat, and veil, and + stained yellow gloves. The YOUNG OFFICER is tall, with a fresh + open face, and kindly eager blue eyes; he is a little lame. The + GIRL, who is evidently at home, moves towards the gas jet to + turn it up, then changes her mind, and going to the curtains, + draws them apart and throws up the window. Bright moonlight + comes flooding in. Outside are seen the trees of a little + Square. She stands gazing out, suddenly turns inward with a + shiver. + +YOUNG OFF. I say; what's the matter? You were crying when I spoke +to you. + +GIRL. [With a movement of recovery] Oh! nothing. The beautiful +evening-that's all. + +YOUNG OFF. [Looking at her] Cheer up! + +GIRL. [Taking of hat and veil; her hair is yellowish and crinkly] +Cheer up! You are not lonelee, like me. + +YOUNG OFF. [Limping to the window--doubtfully] I say, how did you +how did you get into this? Isn't it an awfully hopeless sort of +life? + +GIRL. Yees, it ees. You haf been wounded? + +YOUNG OFF. Just out of hospital to-day. + +GIRL. The horrible war--all the misery is because of the war. When +will it end? + +YOUNG OFF. [Leaning against the window-sill, looking at her +attentively] I say, what nationality are you? + +GIRL. [With a quick look and away] Rooshian. + +YOUNG OFF. Really! I never met a Russian girl. [The GIRL gives him +another quick look] I say, is it as bad as they make out? + +GIRL. [Slipping her hand through his arm] Not when I haf anyone as +ni-ice as you; I never haf had, though. [She smiles, and her smile, +like her speech, is slow and confining] You stopped because I was +sad, others stop because I am gay. I am not fond of men at all. +When you know--you are not fond of them. + +YOUNG OFF. Well, you hardly know them at their best, do you? You +should see them in the trenches. By George! They're simply +splendid--officers and men, every blessed soul. There's never been +anything like it--just one long bit of jolly fine self-sacrifice; +it's perfectly amazing. + +GIRL. [Turning her blue-grey eyes on him] I expect you are not the +last at that. You see in them what you haf in yourself, I think. + +YOUNG OFF. Oh, not a bit; you're quite out! I assure you when we +made the attack where I got wounded there wasn't a single man in my +regiment who wasn't an absolute hero. The way they went in--never +thinking of themselves--it was simply ripping. + +GIRL. [In a queer voice] It is the same too, perhaps, with--the +enemy. + +YOUNG OFF. Oh, yes! I know that. + +GIRL. Ah! You are not a mean man. How I hate mean men! + +YOUNG OFF. Oh! they're not mean really--they simply don't +understand. + +GIRL. Oh! You are a babee--a good babee aren't you? + + [The YOUNG OFFICER doesn't like this, and frowns. The GIRL + looks a little scared.] + +GIRL. [Clingingly] But I li-ke you for it. It is so good to find a +ni-ice man. + +YOUNG OFF. [Abruptly] About being lonely? Haven't you any Russian +friends? + +GIRL. [Blankly] Rooshian? No. [Quickly] The town is so beeg. +Were you at the concert before you spoke to me? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes. + +GIRL. I too. I lofe music. + +YOUNG OFF. I suppose all Russians do. + +GIRL. [With another quick look tat him] I go there always when I +haf the money. + +YOUNG OFF. What! Are you as badly on the rocks as that? + +GIRL. Well, I haf just one shilling now! + + [She laughs bitterly. The laugh upsets him; he sits on the + window-sill, and leans forward towards her.] + +YOUNG OFF. I say, what's your name? + +GIRL. May. Well, I call myself that. It is no good asking yours. + +YOUNG OFF. [With a laugh] You're a distrustful little soul; aren't +you? + +GIRL. I haf reason to be, don't you think? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes. I suppose you're bound to think us all brutes. + +GIRL. [Sitting on a chair close to the window where the moonlight +falls on one powdered cheek] Well, I haf a lot of reasons to be +afraid all my time. I am dreadfully nervous now; I am not trusding +anybody. I suppose you haf been killing lots of Germans? + +YOUNG OFF. We never know, unless it happens to be hand to hand; I +haven't come in for that yet. + +GIRL. But you would be very glad if you had killed some. + +YOUNG OFF. Oh, glad? I don't think so. We're all in the same boat, +so far as that's concerned. We're not glad to kill each other--not +most of us. We do our job--that's all. + +GIRL. Oh! It is frightful. I expect I haf my brothers killed. + +YOUNG OFF. Don't you get any news ever? + +GIRL. News? No indeed, no news of anybody in my country. I might +not haf a country; all that I ever knew is gone; fader, moder, +sisters, broders, all; never any more I shall see them, I suppose, +now. The war it breaks and breaks, it breaks hearts. [She gives a +little snarl] Do you know what I was thinking when you came up to +me? I was thinking of my native town, and the river in the +moonlight. If I could see it again I would be glad. Were you ever +homeseeck? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes, I have been--in the trenches. But one's ashamed +with all the others. + +GIRL. Ah! Yees! Yees! You are all comrades there. What is it +like for me here, do you think, where everybody hates and despises +me, and would catch me and put me in prison, perhaps. [Her breast +heaves.] + +YOUNG OFF. [Leaning forward and patting her knee] Sorry--sorry. + +GIRL. [In a smothered voice] You are the first who has been kind to +me for so long! I will tell you the truth--I am not Rooshian at all +--I am German. + +YOUNG OFF. [Staring] My dear girl, who cares. We aren't fighting +against women. + +GIRL. [Peering at him] Another man said that to me. But he was +thinkin' of his fun. You are a veree ni-ice boy; I am so glad I met +you. You see the good in people, don't you? That is the first thing +in the world--because--there is really not much good in people, you +know. + +YOUNG OFF. [Smiling] You are a dreadful little cynic! But of +course you are! + +GIRL. Cyneec? How long do you think I would live if I was not a +cyneec? I should drown myself to-morrow. Perhaps there are good +people, but, you see, I don't know them. + +YOUNG OFF. I know lots. + +GIRL. [Leaning towards him] Well now--see, ni-ice boy--you haf +never been in a hole, haf you? + +YOUNG OFF. I suppose not a real hole. + +GIRL. No, I should think not, with your face. Well, suppose I am +still a good girl, as I was once, you know; and you took me to your +mother and your sisters and you said: "Here is a little German girl +that has no work, and no money, and no friends." They will say: "Oh! +how sad! A German girl!" And they will go and wash their hands. + + [The OFFICER, is silent, staring at her.] + +GIRL. You see. + +YOUNG OFF. [Muttering] I'm sure there are people. + +GIRL. No. They would not take a German, even if she was good. +Besides, I don't want to be good any more--I am not a humbug; I have +learned to be bad. Aren't you going to kees me, ni-ice boy? + +She puts her face close to his. Her eyes trouble him; he draws back. + +YOUNG OFF. Don't. I'd rather not, if you don't mind. [She looks at +him fixedly, with a curious inquiring stare] It's stupid. I don't +know--but you see, out there, and in hospital, life's different. +It's--it's--it isn't mean, you know. Don't come too close. + +GIRL. Oh! You are fun----[She stops] Eesn't it light. No Zeps +to-night. When they burn--what a 'orrble death! And all the people +cheer. It is natural. Do you hate us veree much? + +YOUNG OFF. [Turning sharply] Hate? I don't know. + +GIRL. I don't hate even the English--I despise them. I despise my +people too; even more, because they began this war. Oh! I know that. +I despise all the peoples. Why haf they made the world so miserable +--why haf they killed all our lives--hundreds and thousands and +millions of lives--all for noting? They haf made a bad world-- +everybody hating, and looking for the worst everywhere. They haf +made me bad, I know. I believe no more in anything. What is there +to believe in? Is there a God? No! Once I was teaching little +English children their prayers--isn't that funnee? I was reading to +them about Christ and love. I believed all those things. Now I +believe noting at all--no one who is not a fool or a liar can +believe. I would like to work in a 'ospital; I would like to go and +'elp poor boys like you. Because I am a German they would throw me +out a 'undred times, even if I was good. It is the same in Germany, +in France, in Russia, everywhere. But do you think I will believe in +Love and Christ and God and all that--Not I! I think we are animals +--that's all! Oh, yes! you fancy it is because my life has spoiled +me. It is not that at all--that is not the worst thing in life. The +men I take are not ni-ice, like you, but it's their nature; and--they +help me to live, which is something for me, anyway. No, it is the +men who think themselves great and good and make the war with their +talk and their hate, killing us all--killing all the boys like you, +and keeping poor People in prison, and telling us to go on hating; +and all these dreadful cold-blood creatures who write in the papers +--the same in my country--just the same; it is because of all of them +that I think we are only animals. + + [The YOUNG OFFICER gets up, acutely miserable.] + + [She follows him with her eyes.] + +GIRL. Don't mind me talkin', ni-ice boy. I don't know anyone to +talk to. If you don't like it, I can be quiet as a mouse. + +YOUNG OFF. Oh, go on! Talk away; I'm not obliged to believe you, +and I don't. + + [She, too, is on her feet now, leaning against the wall; her + dark dress and white face just touched by the slanting + moonlight. Her voice comes again, slow and soft and bitter.] + +GIRL. Well, look here, ni-ice boy, what sort of world is it, where +millions are being tortured, for no fault of theirs, at all? A +beautiful world, isn't it? 'Umbog! Silly rot, as you boys call it. +You say it is all "Comrades" and braveness out there at the front, +and people don't think of themselves. Well, I don't think of myself +veree much. What does it matter? I am lost now, anyway. But I +think of my people at 'ome; how they suffer and grieve. I think of +all the poor people there, and here, how lose those they love, and +all the poor prisoners. Am I not to think of them? And if I do, how +am I to believe it a beautiful world, ni-ice boy? + + [He stands very still, staring at her.] + +GIRL. Look here! We haf one life each, and soon it is over. Well, +I think that is lucky. + +YOUNG OFF. No! There's more than that. + +GIRL. [Softly] Ah! You think the war is fought for the future; you +are giving your lives for a better world, aren't you? + +YOUNG OFF. We must fight till we win. + +GIRL. Till you win. My people think that too. All the peoples +think that if they win the world will be better. But it will not, +you know; it will be much worse, anyway. + + [He turns away from her, and catches up his cap. Her voice + follows him.] + +GIRL. I don't care which win. I don't care if my country is beaten. +I despise them all--animals--animals. Ah! Don't go, ni-ice boy; I +will be quiet now. + + [He has taken some notes from his tunic pocket; he puts then on + the table and goes up to her.] + +YOUNG OFF. Good-night. + +GIRL. [Plaintively] Are you really going? Don't you like me +enough? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes, I like you. + +GIRL. It is because I am German, then? + +YOUNG OFF. No. + +GIRL. Then why won't you stay? + +YOUNG OFF. [With a shrug] If you must know--because you upset me. + +GIRL. Won't you kees me once? + + [He bends, puts his lips to her forehead. But as he takes them + away she throws her head back, presses her mouth to his, and + clings to him.] + +YOUNG OFF. [Sitting down suddenly] Don't! I don't want to feel a +brute. + +GIRL. [Laughing] You are a funny boy; but you are veree good. Talk +to me a little, then. No one talks to me. Tell me, haf you seen +many German prisoners? + +YOUNG OFF. [Sighing] A good many. + +GIRL. Any from the Rhine? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes, I think so. + +GIRL. Were they veree sad? + +YOUNG OFF. Some were; some were quite glad to be taken. + +GIRL. Did you ever see the Rhine? It will be wonderful to-night. +The moonlight will be the same there, and in Rooshia too, and France, +everywhere; and the trees will look the same as here, and people will +meet under them and make love just as here. Oh! isn't it stupid, the +war? As if it were not good to be alive! + +YOUNG OFF. You can't tell how good it is to be alive till you're +facing death. You don't live till then. And when a whole lot of you +feel like that--and are ready to give their lives for each other, +it's worth all the rest of life put together. + + [He stops, ashamed of such, sentiment before this girl, who + believes in nothing.] + +GIRL. [Softly] How were you wounded, ni-ice boy? + +YOUNG OFF. Attacking across open ground: four machine bullets got me +at one go off. + +GIRL. Weren't you veree frightened when they ordered you to attack? + + [He shakes his head and laughs.] + +YOUNG OFF. It was great. We did laugh that morning. They got me +much too soon, though--a swindle. + +GIRL. [Staring at him] You laughed? + +YOUNG OFF. Yes. And what do you think was the first thing I was +conscious of next morning? My old Colonel bending over me and giving +me a squeeze of lemon. If you knew my Colonel you'd still believe in +things. There is something, you know, behind all this evil. After +all, you can only die once, and, if it's for your country--all the +better! + + [Her face, in the moonlight, with, intent eyes touched up with + black, has a most strange, other-world look.] + +GIRL. No; I believe in nothing, not even in my country. My heart is +dead. + +YOUNG OFF. Yes; you think so, but it isn't, you know, or you +wouldn't have 'been crying when I met you. + +GIRL. If it were not dead, do you think I could live my life-walking +the streets every night, pretending to like strange men; never +hearing a kind word; never talking, for fear I will be known for a +German? Soon I shall take to drinking; then I shall be "Kaput" veree +quick. You see, I am practical; I see things clear. To-night I am a +little emotional; the moon is funny, you know. But I live for myself +only, now. I don't care for anything or anybody. + +YOUNG OFF. All the same; just now you were pitying your folk at +home, and prisoners and that. + +GIRL. Yees; because they suffer. Those who suffer are like me--I +pity myself, that's all; I am different from your English women. I +see what I am doing; I do not let my mind become a turnip just +because I am no longer moral. + +YOUNG OFF. Nor your heart either, for all you say. + +GIRL. Ni-ice boy, you are veree obstinate. But all that about love +is 'umbog. We love ourselves, noting more. + + At that intense soft bitterness in her voice, he gets up, + feeling stifled, and stands at the window. A newspaper boy some + way off is calling his wares. The GIRL's fingers slip between + his own, and stay unmoving. He looks round into her face. In + spite of make-up it has a queer, unholy, touching beauty. + +YOUNG OFF. [With an outburst] No; we don't only love ourselves; +there is more. I can't explain, but there's something great; there's +kindness--and--and----- + + [The shouting of newspaper boys grows louder and their cries, + passionately vehement, clash into each other and obscure each + word. His head goes up to listen; her hand tightens within his + arm--she too is listening. The cries come nearer, hoarser, more + shrill and clamorous; the empty moonlight outside seems suddenly + crowded with figures, footsteps, voices, and a fierce distant + cheering. "Great victory--great victory! Official! British! + 'Eavy defeat of the 'Uns! Many thousand prisoners! 'Eavy + defeat!" It speeds by, intoxicating, filling him with a fearful + joy; he leans far out, waving his cap and cheering like a + madman; the night seems to flutter and vibrate and answer. He + turns to rush down into the street, strikes against something + soft, and recoils. The GIRL stands with hands clenched, and + face convulsed, panting. All confused with the desire to do + something, he stoops to kiss her hand. She snatches away her + fingers, sweeps up the notes he has put down, and holds them out + to him.] + +GIRL. Take them--I will not haf your English money--take them. + + Suddenly she tears them across, twice, thrice, lets the bits. + flutter to the floor, and turns her back on him. He stands + looking at her leaning against the plush-covered table, her head + down, a dark figure in a dark room, with the moonlight + sharpening her outline. Hardly a moment he stays, then makes + for the door. When he is gone, she still stands there, her chin + on her breast, with the sound in her ears of cheering, of + hurrying feet, and voices crying: "'Eavy Defeat!" stands, in the + centre of a pattern made by the fragments of the torn-up notes, + staring out unto the moonlight, seeing not this hated room and + the hated Square outside, but a German orchard, and herself, a + little girl, plucking apples, a big dog beside her; and a + hundred other pictures, such as the drowning see. Then she + sinks down on the floor, lays her forehead on the dusty carpet, + and presses her body to it. Mechanically, she sweeps together + the scattered fragments of notes, assembling them with the dust + into a little pile, as of fallen leaves, and dabbling in it with + her fingers, while the tears run down her cheeks. + +GIRL. Defeat! Der Vaterland! Defeat!. . . . One shillin'! + + [Then suddenly, in the moonlight, she sits up, and begins to + sing with all her might "Die Wacht am Rhein." And outside men + pass, singing: "Rule, Britannia!"] + + + CURTAIN + + + + + + + +THE SUN + +A SCENE + + + + +CHARACTERS + +THE GIRL. +THE MAN. +THE SOLDIER. + + + THE SUN + + A Girl, sits crouched over her knees on a stile close to a + river. A MAN with a silver badge stands beside her, clutching + the worn top plank. THE GIRL'S level brows are drawn together; + her eyes see her memories. THE MAN's eyes see THE GIRL; he has + a dark, twisted face. The bright sun shines; the quiet river + flows; the Cuckoo is calling; the mayflower is in bloom along + the hedge that ends in the stile on the towing-path. + +THE GIRL. God knows what 'e'll say, Jim. + +THE MAN. Let 'im. 'E's come too late, that's all. + +THE GIRL. He couldn't come before. I'm frightened. 'E was fond o' +me. + +THE MAN. And aren't I fond of you? + +THE GIRL. I ought to 'a waited, Jim; with 'im in the fightin'. + +THE MAN. [Passionately] And what about me? Aren't I been in the +fightin'--earned all I could get? + +THE GIRL. [Touching him] Ah! + +THE MAN. Did you--? [He cannot speak the words.] + +THE GIRL. Not like you, Jim--not like you. + +THE MAN. Have a spirit, then. + +THE GIRL. I promised him. + +THE MAN. One man's luck's another's poison. + +THE GIRL. I ought to 'a waited. I never thought he'd come back from +the fightin'. + +THE MAN. [Grimly] Maybe 'e'd better not 'ave. + +THE GIRL. [Looking back along the tow-path] What'll he be like, I +wonder? + +THE MAN. [Gripping her shoulder] Daisy, don't you never go back on +me, or I should kill you, and 'im too. + + [THE GIRL looks at him, shivers, and puts her lips to his.] + +THE GIRL. I never could. + +THE MAN. Will you run for it? 'E'd never find us! + + [THE GIRL shakes her head.] + +THE MAN [Dully] What's the good o' stayin'? The world's wide. + +THE GIRL. I'd rather have it off me mind, with him home. + +THE MAN. [Clenching his hands] It's temptin' Providence. + +THE GIRL. What's the time, Jim? + +THE MAN. [Glancing at the sun] 'Alf past four. + +THE GIRL. [Looking along the towing-path] He said four o'clock. +Jim, you better go. + +THE MAN. Not I. I've not got the wind up. I've seen as much of +hell as he has, any day. What like is he? + +THE GIRL. [Dully] I dunno, just. I've not seen him these three +years. I dunno no more, since I've known you. + +THE MAN. Big or little chap? + +THE GIRL. 'Bout your size. Oh! Jim, go along! + +THE MAN. No fear! What's a blighter like that to old Fritz's +shells? We didn't shift when they was comin'. If you'll go, I'll +go; not else. + + [Again she shakes her head.] + +THE GIRL. Jim, do you love me true? + + [For answer THE MAN takes her avidly in his arms.] + +I ain't ashamed--I ain't ashamed. If 'e could see me 'eart. + +THE MAN. Daisy! If I'd known you out there, I never could 'a stuck +it. They'd 'a got me for a deserter. That's how I love you! + +THE GIRL. Jim, don't lift your hand to 'im! Promise! + +THE MAN. That's according. + +THE GIRL. Promise! + +THE MAN. If 'e keeps quiet, I won't. But I'm not accountable--not +always, I tell you straight--not since I've been through that. + +THE GIRL. [With a shiver] Nor p'raps he isn't. + +THE MAN. Like as not. It takes the lynch pins out, I tell you. + +THE GIRL. God 'elp us! + +THE MAN. [Grimly] Ah! We said that a bit too often. What we want +we take, now; there's no one else to give it us, and there's no +fear'll stop us; we seen the bottom of things. + +THE GIRL. P'raps he'll say that too. + +THE MAN. Then it'll be 'im or me. + +THE GIRL. I'm frightened: + +THE MAN. [Tenderly] No, Daisy, no! The river's handy. One more or +less. 'E shan't 'arm you; nor me neither. [He takes out a knife.] + +THE GIRL. [Seizing his hand] Oh, no! Give it to me, Jim! + +THE MAN. [Smiling] No fear! [He puts it away] Shan't 'ave no need +for it like as not. All right, little Daisy; you can't be expected +to see things like what we do. What's life, anyway? I've seen a +thousand lives taken in five minutes. I've seen dead men on the +wires like flies on a flypaper. I've been as good as dead meself a +hundred times. I've killed a dozen men. It's nothin'. He's safe, +if 'e don't get my blood up. If he does, nobody's safe; not 'im, nor +anybody else; not even you. I'm speakin' sober. + +THE GIRL. [Softly] Jim, you won't go fightin' in the sun, with the +birds all callin'? + +THE MAN. That depends on 'im. I'm not lookin' for it. Daisy, I +love you. I love your hair. I love your eyes. I love you. + +THE GIRL. And I love you, Jim. I don't want nothin' more than you +in all the world. + +THE MAN. Amen to that, my dear. Kiss me close! + + The sound of a voice singing breaks in on their embrace. THE + GIRL starts from his arms, and looks behind her along the + towing-path. THE MAN draws back against, the hedge, fingering + his side, where the knife is hidden. The song comes nearer. + + + "I'll be right there to-night, + Where the fields are snowy white; + Banjos ringing, darkies singing, + All the world seems bright." + +THE GIRL. It's him! + +THE MAN. Don't get the wind up, Daisy. I'm here! + + [The singing stops. A man's voice says "Christ! It's Daisy; + it's little Daisy 'erself!" THE GIRL stands rigid. The figure + of a soldier appears on the other side of the stile. His cap is + tucked into his belt, his hair is bright in the sunshine; he is + lean, wasted, brown, and laughing.] + +SOLDIER. Daisy! Daisy! Hallo, old pretty girl! + + [THE GIRL does not move, barring the way, as it were.] + +THE GIRL. Hallo, Jack! [Softly] I got things to tell you! + +SOLDIER. What sort o' things, this lovely day? Why, I got things +that'd take me years to tell. Have you missed me, Daisy? + +THE GIRL. You been so long. + +SOLDIER. So I 'ave. My Gawd! It's a way they 'ave in the Army. I +said when I got out of it I'd laugh. Like as the sun itself I used +to think of you, Daisy, when the trumps was comin' over, and the wind +was up. D'you remember that last night in the wood? "Come back and +marry me quick, Jack." Well, here I am--got me pass to heaven. No +more fightin', no more drillin', no more sleepin' rough. We can get +married now, Daisy. We can live soft an' 'appy. Give us a kiss, my +dear. + +THE GIRL. [Drawing back] No. + +SOLDIER. [Blankly] Why not? + + [THE MAN, with a swift movement steps along the hedge to THE + GIRL'S side.] + +THE MAN. That's why, soldier. + +SOLDIER. [Leaping over the stile] 'Oo are you, Pompey? The sun +don't shine in your inside, do it? 'Oo is he, Daisy? + +THE GIRL. My man. + +SOLDIER. Your-man! Lummy! "Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a +thief!" Well, mate! So you've been through it, too. I'm laughin' +this mornin' as luck will 'ave it. Ah! I can see your knife. + +THE MAN. [Who has half drawn his knife] Don't laugh at me, I tell +you. + +SOLDIER. Not at you, not at you. [He looks from one to the other] +I'm laughin' at things in general. Where did you get it, mate? + +THE MAN. [Watchfully] Through the lung. + +SOLDIER. Think o' that! An' I never was touched. Four years an' +never was touched. An' so you've come an' took my girl! Nothin' +doin'! Ha! [Again he looks from one to the other-then away] Well! +The world's before me! [He laughs] I'll give you Daisy for a lung +protector. + +THE MAN. [Fiercely] You won't. I've took her. + +SOLDIER. That's all right, then. You keep 'er. I've got a laugh in +me you can't put out, black as you look! Good-bye, little Daisy! + + [THE GIRL makes a movement towards him.] + +THE MAN. Don't touch 'im! + + [THE GIRL stands hesitating, and suddenly bursts into tears.] + +SOLDIER. Look 'ere, mate; shake 'ands! I don't want to see a girl +cry, this day of all, with the sun shinin'. I seen too much of +sorrer. You and me've been at the back of it. We've 'ad our whack. +Shake! + +THE MAN. Who are you kiddin'? You never loved 'er! + +SOLDIER. [After a long moment's pause] Oh! I thought I did. + +THE MAN. I'll fight you for her. + + [He drops his knife. ] + +SOLDIER. [Slowly] Mate, you done your bit, an' I done mine. It's +took us two ways, seemin'ly. + +THE GIRL. [Pleading] Jim! ` + +THE MAN. [With clenched fists] I don't want 'is charity. I only +want what I can take. + +SOLDIER. Daisy, which of us will you 'ave? + +THE GIRL. [Covering her face] Oh! Him! + +SOLDIER. You see, mate! Put your 'ands down. There's nothin' for +it but a laugh. You an' me know that. Laugh, mate! + +THE MAN. You blarsted----! + + [THE GIRL springs to him and stops his mouth.] + +SOLDIER. It's no use, mate. I can't do it. I said I'd laugh +to-day, and laugh I will. I've come through that, an' all the stink +of it; I've come through sorrer. Never again! Cheerio, mate! The +sun's a-shinin'! He turns away. + +THE GIRL. Jack, don't think too 'ard of me! + +SOLDIER. [Looking back] No fear, my dear! Enjoy your fancy! So +long! Gawd bless you both! + +He sings, and goes along the path, and the song fades away. + + "I'll be right there to-night + Where the fields are snowy white; + Banjos ringing, darkies singing + All the world seems bright!" + + + +THE MAN. 'E's mad! + +THE GIRL. [Looking down the path with her hands clasped] The sun has +touched 'im, Jim! + + + CURTAIN + + + + + + +PUNCH AND GO + +A LITTLE COMEDY + +"Orpheus with his lute made trees +And the mountain tope that freeze....." + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JAMES G. FRUST ..............The Boss +E. BLEWITT VANE .............The Producer +MR. FORESON .................The Stage Manager +"ELECTRICS"..................The Electrician +"PROPS" .....................The Property Man +HERBERT .....................The Call Boy + + + + +OF THE PLAY WITHIN THE PLAY + +GUY TOONE ...................The Professor +VANESSA HELLGROVE ...........The Wife +GEORGE FLEETWAY .............Orpheus +MAUDE HOPKINS ...............The Faun + + + + +SCENE: The Stage of a Theatre. + +Action continuous, though the curtain is momentarily lowered +according to that action. + + + + PUNCH AND GO + + The Scene is the stage of the theatre set for the dress + rehearsal of the little play: "Orpheus with his Lute." The + curtain is up and the audience, though present, is not supposed + to be. The set scene represents the end section of a room, with + wide French windows, Back Centre, fully opened on to an apple + orchard in bloom. The Back Wall with these French windows, is + set only about ten feet from the footlights, and the rest of the + stage is orchard. What is visible of the room would indicate + the study of a writing man of culture. ( Note.--If found + advantageous for scenic purposes, this section of room can be + changed to a broad verandah or porch with pillars supporting its + roof.) In the wall, Stage Left, is a curtained opening, across + which the curtain is half drawn. Stage Right of the French + windows is a large armchair turned rather towards the window, + with a book rest attached, on which is a volume of the + Encyclopedia Britannica, while on a stool alongside are writing + materials such as a man requires when he writes with a pad on + his knees. On a little table close by is a reading-lamp with a + dark green shade. A crude light from the floats makes the stage + stare; the only person on it is MR FORESON, the stage manager, + who is standing in the centre looking upwards as if waiting for + someone to speak. He is a short, broad man, rather blank, and + fatal. From the back of the auditorium, or from an empty box, + whichever is most convenient, the producer, MR BLEWITT VANE, a + man of about thirty four, with his hair brushed back, speaks. + +VANE. Mr Foreson? + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. We'll do that lighting again. + + [FORESON walks straight of the Stage into the wings Right.] + + [A pause.] + +Mr Foreson! [Crescendo] Mr Foreson. + + [FORESON walks on again from Right and shades his eyes.] + +VANE. For goodness sake, stand by! We'll do that lighting again. +Check your floats. + +FORESON. [Speaking up into the prompt wings] Electrics! + +VOICE OF ELECTRICS. Hallo! + +FORESON. Give it us again. Check your floats. + + [The floats go down, and there is a sudden blinding glare of + blue lights, in which FORESON looks particularly ghastly.] + +VANE. Great Scott! What the blazes! Mr Foreson! + + [FORESON walks straight out into the wings Left. Crescendo.] + +Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. Tell Miller to come down. + +FORESON. Electrics! Mr Blewitt Vane wants to speak to you. Come +down! + +VANE. Tell Herbert to sit in that chair. + + [FORESON walks straight out into the Right wings.] + +Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. Don't go off the stage. [FORESON mutters.] + + [ELECTRICS appears from the wings, Stage Left. He is a dark, + thin-faced man with rather spikey hair.] + +ELECTRICS. Yes, Mr Vane? + +VANE. Look! + +ELECTRICS. That's what I'd got marked, Mr Vane. + +VANE. Once for all, what I want is the orchard in full moonlight, +and the room dark except for the reading lamp. Cut off your front +battens. + + [ELECTRICS withdraws Left. FORESON walks off the Stage into the + Right wings.] + +Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. See this marked right. Now, come on with it! I want to get +some beauty into this! + + [While he is speaking, HERBERT, the call boy, appears from the + wings Right, a mercurial youth of about sixteen with a wide + mouth.] + +FORESON. [Maliciously] Here you are, then, Mr Vane. Herbert, sit +in that chair. + + [HERBERT sits an the armchair, with an air of perfect peace.] + +VANE. Now! [All the lights go out. In a wail] Great Scott! + + [A throaty chuckle from FORESON in the darkness. The light + dances up, flickers, shifts, grows steady, falling on the + orchard outside. The reading lamp darts alight and a piercing + little glare from it strikes into the auditorium away from + HERBERT.] + +[In a terrible voice] Mr Foreson. + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Look--at--that--shade! + + [FORESON mutters, walks up to it and turns it round so that the + light shines on HERBERT'S legs.] + +On his face, on his face! + + [FORESON turns the light accordingly.] + +FORESON. Is that what you want, Mr Vane? + +VANE. Yes. Now, mark that! + +FORESON. [Up into wings Right] Electrics! + +ELECTRICS. Hallo! + +FORESON. Mark that! + +VANE. My God! + + [The blue suddenly becomes amber.] + + [The blue returns. All is steady. HERBERT is seen diverting + himself with an imaginary cigar.] + +Mr Foreson. + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Ask him if he's got that? + +FORESON. Have you got that? + +ELECTRICS. Yes. + +VANE. Now pass to the change. Take your floats off altogether. + +FORESON. [Calling up] Floats out. [They go out.] + +VANE. Cut off that lamp. [The lamp goes out] Put a little amber in +your back batten. Mark that! Now pass to the end. Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Black out + +FORESON. [Calling up] Black out! + + [The lights go out.] + +VANE. Give us your first lighting-lamp on. And then the two +changes. Quick as you can. Put some pep into it. Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Stand for me where Miss Hellgrove comes in. FORESON crosses +to the window. No, no!--by the curtain. + + [FORESON takes his stand by the curtain; and suddenly the three + lighting effects are rendered quickly and with miraculous + exactness.] + +Good! Leave it at that. We'll begin. Mr Foreson, send up to Mr +Frust. + + [He moves from the auditorium and ascends on to the Stage, by + some steps Stage Right.] + +FORESON. Herb! Call the boss, and tell beginners to stand by. +Sharp, now! + + [HERBERT gets out of the chair, and goes off Right.] + + [FORESON is going off Left as VANE mounts the Stage.] + +VANE. Mr Foreson. + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. I want "Props." + +FORESON. [In a stentorian voice] "Props!" + + [Another moth-eaten man appears through the French windows.] + +VANE. Is that boulder firm? + +PROPS. [Going to where, in front of the back-cloth, and apparently +among its apple trees, lies the counterfeitment of a mossy boulder; +he puts his foot on it] If, you don't put too much weight on it, +sir. + +VANE. It won't creak? + +PROPS. Nao. [He mounts on it, and a dolorous creaking arises.] + +VANE. Make that right. Let me see that lute. + + [PROPS produces a property lute. While they scrutinize it, a + broad man with broad leathery clean-shaven face and small mouth, + occupied by the butt end of a cigar, has come on to the stage + from Stage Left, and stands waiting to be noticed.] + +PROPS. [Attracted by the scent of the cigar] The Boss, Sir. + +VANE. [Turning to "PROPS"] That'll do, then. + + ["PROPS" goes out through the French windows.] + +VANE. [To FRUST] Now, sir, we're all ready for rehearsal of +"Orpheus with his Lute." + +FRUST. [In a cosmopolitan voice] "Orphoos with his loot!" That his +loot, Mr Vane? Why didn't he pinch something more precious? Has +this high-brow curtain-raiser of yours got any "pep" in it? + +VANE. It has charm. + +FRUST. I'd thought of "Pop goes the Weasel" with little Miggs. We +kind of want a cock-tail before "Louisa loses," Mr Vane. + +VANE. Well, sir, you'll see. + +FRUST. This your lighting? It's a bit on the spiritool side. I've +left my glass. Guess I'll sit in the front row. Ha'f a minute. Who +plays this Orphoos? + +VANE. George Fleetway. + +FRUST. Has he got punch? + +VANE. It's a very small part. + +FRUST. Who are the others? + +VANE. Guy Toone plays the Professor; Vanessa Hellgrove his wife; +Maude Hopkins the faun. + +FRUST. H'm! Names don't draw. + +VANE. They're not expensive, any of them. Miss Hellgrove's a find, +I think. + +FRUST. Pretty? + +VANE. Quite. + +FRUST. Arty? + +VANE. [Doubtfully] No. [With resolution] Look here, Mr FRUST, +it's no use your expecting another "Pop goes the Weasel." + +FRUST. We-ell, if it's got punch and go, that'll be enough for me. +Let's get to it! + + [He extinguishes his cigar and descends the steps and sits in + the centre of the front row of the stalls.] + +VANE. Mr Foreson? + +FORESON. [Appearing through curtain, Right] Sir? + +VANE. Beginners. Take your curtain down. + + [He descends the steps and seats himself next to FRUST. The + curtain goes down.] + + [A woman's voice is heard singing very beautifully Sullivan's + song: "Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees and the + mountain tops that freeze'." etc.] + +FRUST. Some voice! + + The curtain rises. In the armchair the PROFESSOR is yawning, + tall, thin, abstracted, and slightly grizzled in the hair. He + has a pad of paper over his knee, ink on the stool to his right + and the Encyclopedia volume on the stand to his left-barricaded + in fact by the article he is writing. He is reading a page over + to himself, but the words are drowned in the sound of the song + his WIFE is singing in the next room, partly screened off by the + curtain. She finishes, and stops. His voice can then be heard + conning the words of his article. + +PROF. "Orpheus symbolized the voice of Beauty, the call of life, +luring us mortals with his song back from the graves we dig for +ourselves. Probably the ancients realized this neither more nor less +than we moderns. Mankind has not changed. The civilized being still +hides the faun and the dryad within its broadcloth and its silk. And +yet"--[He stops, with a dried-up air-rather impatiently] Go on, my +dear! It helps the atmosphere. + + [The voice of his WIFE begins again, gets as far as "made them + sing" and stops dead, just as the PROFESSOR's pen is beginning + to scratch. And suddenly, drawing the curtain further aside] + + [SHE appears. Much younger than the PROFESSOR, pale, very + pretty, of a Botticellian type in face, figure, and in her + clinging cream-coloured frock. She gazes at her abstracted + husband; then swiftly moves to the lintel of the open window, + and stands looking out.] + +THE WIFE. God! What beauty! + +PROF. [Looking Up] Umm? + +THE WIFE. I said: God! What beauty! + +PROF. Aha! + +THE WIFE. [Looking at him] Do you know that I have to repeat +everything to you nowadays? + +PROF. What? + +THE WIFE. That I have to repeat---- + +PROF. Yes; I heard. I'm sorry. I get absorbed. + +THE WIFE. In all but me. + +PROF. [Startled] My dear, your song was helping me like anything to +get the mood. This paper is the very deuce--to balance between the +historical and the natural. + +THE WIFE. Who wants the natural? + +PROF. [Grumbling] Umm! Wish I thought that! Modern taste! +History may go hang; they're all for tuppence-coloured sentiment +nowadays. + +THE WIFE. [As if to herself] Is the Spring sentiment? + +PROF. I beg your pardon, my dear; I didn't catch. + +WIFE. [As if against her will--urged by some pent-up force] Beauty, +beauty! + +PROF. That's what I'm, trying to say here. The Orpheus legend +symbolizes to this day the call of Beauty! [He takes up his pen, +while she continues to stare out at the moonlight. Yawning] Dash +it! I get so sleepy; I wish you'd tell them to make the after-dinner +coffee twice as strong. + +WIFE. I will. + +PROF. How does this strike you? [Conning] "Many Renaissance +pictures, especially those of Botticelli, Francesca and Piero di +Cosimo were inspired by such legends as that of Orpheus, and we owe a +tiny gem--like Raphael 'Apollo and Marsyas' to the same Pagan +inspiration." + +WIFE. We owe it more than that--rebellion against the dry-as-dust. + +PROF. Quite. I might develop that: "We owe it our revolt against +the academic; or our disgust at 'big business,' and all the grossness +of commercial success. We owe----". [His voice peters out.] + +WIFE. It--love. + +PROF. [Abstracted] Eh! + +WIFE. I said: We owe it love. + +PROF. [Rather startled] Possibly. But--er [With a dry smile] +I mustn't say that here--hardly! + +WIFE. [To herself and the moonlight] Orpheus with his lute! + +PROF. Most people think a lute is a sort of flute. [Yawning +heavily] My dear, if you're not going to sing again, d'you mind +sitting down? I want to concentrate. + +WIFE. I'm going out. + +PROF. Mind the dew! + +WIFE. The Christian virtues and the dew. + +PROF. [With a little dry laugh] Not bad! Not bad! The Christian +virtues and the dew. [His hand takes up his pen, his face droops +over his paper, while his wife looks at him with a very strange face] +"How far we can trace the modern resurgence against the Christian +virtues to the symbolic figures of Orpheus, Pan, Apollo, and Bacchus +might be difficult to estimate, but----" + + [During those words his WIFE has passed through the window into + the moonlight, and her voice rises, singing as she goes: + "Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees . . ."] + +PROF. [Suddenly aware of something] She'll get her throat bad. +[He is silent as the voice swells in the distance] Sounds queer at +night-H'm! [He is silent--Yawning. The voice dies away. Suddenly +his head nods; he fights his drowsiness; writes a word or two, nods +again, and in twenty seconds is asleep.] + + [The Stage is darkened by a black-out. FRUST's voice is heard + speaking.] + +FRUST. What's that girl's name? + +VANE. Vanessa Hellgrove. + +FRUST. Aha! + + [The Stage is lighted up again. Moonlight bright on the + orchard; the room in darkness where the PROFESSOR'S figure is + just visible sleeping in the chair, and screwed a little more + round towards the window. From behind the mossy boulder a + faun-like figure uncurls itself and peeps over with ears + standing up and elbows leaning on the stone, playing a rustic + pipe; and there are seen two rabbits and a fox sitting up and + listening. A shiver of wind passes, blowing petals from the + apple-trees.] + + [The FAUN darts his head towards where, from Right, comes slowly + the figure of a Greek youth, holding a lute or lyre which his + fingers strike, lifting out little wandering strains as of wind + whinnying in funnels and odd corners. The FAUN darts down + behind the stone, and the youth stands by the boulder playing + his lute. Slowly while he plays the whitened trunk of an + apple-tree is seen, to dissolve into the body of a girl with + bare arms and feet, her dark hair unbound, and the face of the + PROFESSOR'S WIFE. Hypnotized, she slowly sways towards him, + their eyes fixed on each other, till she is quite close. Her + arms go out to him, cling round his neck and, their lips meet. + But as they meet there comes a gasp and the PROFESSOR with + rumpled hair is seen starting from his chair, his hands thrown + up; and at his horrified "Oh!" the Stage is darkened with a + black-out.] + + [The voice of FRUST is heard speaking.] + +FRUST. Gee! + + The Stage is lighted up again, as in the opening scene. The + PROFESSOR is seen in his chair, with spilt sheets of paper round + him, waking from a dream. He shakes himself, pinches his leg, + stares heavily round into the moonlight, rises. + +PROF. Phew! Beastly dream! Boof! H'm! [He moves to the window +and calls.] Blanche! Blanche! [To himself] Made trees-made trees! +[Calling] Blanche! + +WIFE's VOICE. Yes. + +PROF. Where are you? + +WIFE. [Appearing by the stone with her hair down] Here! + +PROF. I say--I---I've been asleep--had a dream. Come in. I'll tell +you. + + [She comes, and they stand in the window.] + +PROF. I dreamed I saw a-faun on that boulder blowing on a pipe. [He +looks nervously at the stone] With two damned little rabbits and a +fox sitting up and listening. And then from out there came our +friend Orpheus playing on his confounded lute, till he actually +turned that tree there into you. And gradually he-he drew you like a +snake till you--er--put your arms round his neck and--er--kissed him. +Boof! I woke up. Most unpleasant. Why! Your hair's down! + +WIFE. Yes. + +PROF. Why? + +WIFE. It was no dream. He was bringing me to life. + +PROF. What on earth? + +WIFE. Do you suppose I am alive? I'm as dead as Euridice. + +PROF. Good heavens, Blanche, what's the matter with you to-night? + +WIFE. [Pointing to the litter of papers] Why don't we live, instead +of writing of it? [She points out unto the moonlight] What do we +get out of life? Money, fame, fashion, talk, learning? Yes. And +what good are they? I want to live! + +PROF. [Helplessly] My dear, I really don't know what you mean. + +WIFE. [Pointing out into the moonlight] Look! Orpheus with his +lute, and nobody can see him. Beauty, beauty, beauty--we let it go. +[With sudden passion] Beauty, love, the spring. They should be in +us, and they're all outside. + +PROF. My dear, this is--this is--awful. [He tries to embrace her.] + +WIFE. [Avoiding him--an a stilly voice] Oh! Go on with your +writing! + +PROF. I'm--I'm upset. I've never known you so--so---- + +WIFE. Hysterical? Well! It's over. I'll go and sing. + +PROF. [Soothingly] There, there! I'm sorry, darling; I really am. +You're kipped--you're kipped. [He gives and she accepts a kiss] +Better? + + [He gravitates towards his papers.] + +All right, now? + +WIFE. [Standing still and looking at him] Quite! + +PROF. Well, I'll try and finish this to-night; then, to-morrow we +might have a jaunt. How about a theatre? There's a thing--they say- +-called "Chinese Chops," that's been running years. + +WIFE. [Softly to herself as he settles down into his chair] Oh! +God! + + [While he takes up a sheet of paper and adjusts himself, she + stands at the window staring with all her might at the boulder, + till from behind it the faun's head and shoulders emerge once + more.] + +PROF. Very queer the power suggestion has over the mind. Very +queer! There's nothing really in animism, you know, except the +curious shapes rocks, trees and things take in certain lights--effect +they have on our imagination. [He looks up] What's the matter now? + +WIFE. [Startled] Nothing! Nothing! + + [Her eyes waver to him again, and the FAUN vanishes. She turns + again to look at the boulder; there is nothing there; a little + shiver of wind blows some petals off the trees. She catches one + of them, and turning quickly, goes out through the curtain.] + +PROF. [Coming to himself and writing] "The Orpheus legend is the-- +er--apotheosis of animism. Can we accept----" [His voice is lost in +the sound of his WIFE'S voice beginning again: "Orpheus with his +lute--with his lute made trees----" It dies in a sob. The PROFESSOR +looks up startled, as the curtain falls]. + +FRUST. Fine! Fine! + +VANE. Take up the curtain. Mr Foreson? + + [The curtain goes up.] + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. Everybody on. + + [He and FRUST leave their seats and ascend on to the Stage, on + which are collecting the four Players.] + +VANE. Give us some light. + +FORESON. Electrics! Turn up your floats! + + [The footlights go up, and the blue goes out; the light is crude + as at the beginning.] + +FRUST. I'd like to meet Miss Hellgrove. [She comes forward eagerly +and timidly. He grasps her hand] Miss Hellgrove, I want to say I +thought that fine--fine. [Her evident emotion and pleasure warm him +so that he increases his grasp and commendation] Fine. It quite got +my soft spots. Emotional. Fine! + +MISS H. Oh! Mr Frust; it means so much to me. Thank you! + +FRUST. [A little balder in the eye, and losing warmth] Er--fine! +[His eye wanders] Where's Mr Flatway? + +VANE. Fleetway. + + [FLEETWAY comes up.] + +FRUST. Mr Fleetway, I want to say I thought your Orphoos very +remarkable. Fine. + +FLEETWAY. Thank you, sir, indeed--so glad you liked it. + +FRUST. [A little balder in the eye] There wasn't much to it, but +what there was was fine. Mr Toone. + + [FLEETWAY melts out and TOONE is precipitated.] + +Mr Toone, I was very pleased with your Professor--quite a character- +study. [TOONE bows and murmurs] Yes, sir! I thought it fine. [His +eye grows bald] Who plays the goat? + +MISS HOPK. [Appearing suddenly between the windows] I play the +faun, Mr Frost. + +FORESON. [Introducing] Miss Maude 'Opkins. + +FRUST. Miss Hopkins, I guess your fawn was fine. + +MISS HOPK. Oh! Thank you, Mr Frost. How nice of you to say so. I +do so enjoy playing him. + +FRUST. [His eye growing bald] Mr Foreson, I thought the way you +fixed that tree was very cunning; I certainly did. Got a match? + + [He takes a match from FORESON, and lighting a very long cigar, + walks up Stage through the French windows followed by FORESON, + and examines the apple-tree.] + + [The two Actors depart, but Miss HELLGROVE runs from where she + has been lingering, by the curtain, to VANE, Stage Right.] + +MISS H. Oh! Mr Vane--do you think? He seemed quite--Oh! Mr Vane +[ecstatically] If only---- + +VANE. [Pleased and happy] Yes, yes. All right--you were splendid. +He liked it. He quite---- + +MISS H. [Clasping her hand] How wonderful Oh, Mr Vane, thank you! + + [She clasps his hands; but suddenly, seeing that FRUST is coming + back, fits across into the curtain and vanishes.] + + [The Stage, in the crude light, as empty now save for FRUST, + who, in the French windows, Centre, is mumbling his cigar; and + VANE, Stage Right, who is looking up into the wings, Stage + Left.] + +VANE. [Calling up] That lighting's just right now, Miller. Got it +marked carefully? + +ELECTRICS. Yes, Mr Vane. + +VANE. Good. [To FRUST who as coming down] Well, sir? So glad---- + +FRUST. Mr Vane, we got little Miggs on contract? + +VANE. Yes. + +FRUST. Well, I liked that little pocket piece fine. But I'm blamed +if I know what it's all about. + +VANE. [A little staggered] Why! Of course it's a little allegory. +The tragedy of civilization--all real feeling for Beauty and Nature +kept out, or pent up even in the cultured. + +FRUST. Ye-ep. [Meditatively] Little Miggs'd be fine in "Pop goes +the Weasel." + +VANE. Yes, he'd be all right, but---- + +FRUST. Get him on the 'phone, and put it into rehearsal right now. + +VANE. What! But this piece--I--I----! + +FRUST. Guess we can't take liberties with our public, Mr Vane. They +want pep. + +VANE. [Distressed] But it'll break that girl's heart. I--really--I +can't---- + +FRUST. Give her the part of the 'tweeny in "Pop goes". + +VANE. Mr Frust, I--I beg. I've taken a lot of trouble with this +little play. It's good. It's that girl's chance--and I---- + +FRUST. We-ell! I certainly thought she was fine. Now, you 'phone +up Miggs, and get right along with it. I've only one rule, sir! +Give the Public what it wants; and what the Public wants is punch and +go. They've got no use for Beauty, Allegory, all that high-brow +racket. I know 'em as I know my hand. + + [During this speech MISS HELLGROVE is seen listening by the + French window, in distress, unnoticed by either of them.] + +VANE. Mr Frost, the Public would take this, I'm sure they would; I'm +convinced of it. You underrate them. + +FRUST. Now, see here, Mr Blewitt Vane, is this my theatre? I tell +you, I can't afford luxuries. + +VANE. But it--it moved you, sir; I saw it. I was watching. + +FRUST. [With unmoved finality] Mr Vane, I judge I'm not the average +man. Before "Louisa Loses" the Public'll want a stimulant. "Pop +goes the Weasel" will suit us fine. So--get right along with it. +I'll go get some lunch. + + [As he vanishes into the wings, Left, MISS HELLGROVE covers her + face with her hands. A little sob escaping her attracts VANE'S + attention. He takes a step towards her, but she flies.] + +VANE. [Dashing his hands through his hair till it stands up] +Damnation! + + [FORESON walks on from the wings, Right.] + +FORESON. Sir? + +VANE. "Punch and go!" That superstition! + + [FORESON walks straight out into the wings, Left.] + +VANE. Mr Foreson! + +FORESON. [Re-appearing] Sir? + +VANE. This is scrapped. [With savagery] Tell 'em to set the first +act of "Louisa Loses," and put some pep into it. + + [He goes out through the French windows with the wind still in + his hair.] + +FORESON. [In the centre of the Stage] Electrics! + +ELECTRICS. Hallo! + +FORESON. Where's Charlie? + +ELECTRICS. Gone to his dinner. + +FORESON. Anybody on the curtain? + +A VOICE. Yes, Mr Foreson. + +FORESON. Put your curtain down. + + [He stands in the centre of the Stage with eyes uplifted as the + curtain descends.] + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX SHORT PLAYS BY GALSWORTHY *** + +********* This file should be named gpl6w10.txt or gpl6w10.zip ********* + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, gpl6w11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, gpl6w10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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