[Lays revolver on table and steps outside of door.Revenuelooks at revolver, apparently without interest.[Lukecautiously enters doorway and expresses surprise at seeingRevenuemaking no attempt to secure revolver. Feigning excitement, goes to table, picks up gun.
[Lays revolver on table and steps outside of door.Revenuelooks at revolver, apparently without interest.
[Lukecautiously enters doorway and expresses surprise at seeingRevenuemaking no attempt to secure revolver. Feigning excitement, goes to table, picks up gun.
LUKE. I reckon I'm gettin' careless, leavin' a gun layin' around here that-a-way. Didn't you see it?
REVENUE. Yes.
LUKE. Well, why didn't ye grab it?
REVENUE. What for?
LUKE. To git the drop on me.
REVENUE. Can't you understand what I've been telling you, mister? I don'twantthe drop on you.
LUKE. Well, doggone if I don't believe yer tellin' me the truth. Thought I'd just see what ye'd do. Ye see, I emptied it first.
[Opens up gun.
REVENUE. That wasn't necessary.
LUKE. Well, I reckon ye better git along out o' here, mister.
REVENUE. You don't mean you're weakening?
LUKE. I ain't got no call to do your killin' fer you. If ye hain't sport enough to do it yerself, I reckon ye kin go on sufferin'.
REVENUE. But I told you why I don't want to do it. One murder more or less means nothing to you. You don't care anything about the hereafter.
LUKE. Mebbe I don't, but there ain't no use my takin' any more chances than I have to. And what's more, mister, from what you been tellin' me I reckon there's a charm on you, and I ain't goin' to take no chances goin' agin charms.
REVENUE. Soyou'regoing to go back on me?
LUKE. Yes, siree.
REVENUE. Well, maybe some of the other boys will be willing. I'll wait till they come.
LUKE. The other boys ain't goin' to see you. You're a leavin' this yer place right now—now! It won't do no good. You may as well go peaceable; ye ain't got no right to expect us to bear yer burdens.
REVENUE. Damn it all! I've spoiled it again.
LUKE. I reckon you better make up yer mind to go on livin'.
REVENUE. That looks like the only way out.
LUKE. Come on, I'll let you ride my horse to town. It's the only one we got, so yu can leave it at Two Gun Jake's, and one o' the boys'll go git it, or I reckon I'll go over myself and see if Jake made a job of it.
REVENUE. I suppose it's no use arguing with you.
LUKE. Not a bit. Come on, you.
REVENUE. Well, I'd like to leave my address so if you ever come to New York you can look me up.
LUKE. 'Tain't likely I'll ever come to New York.
REVENUE. Well, I'll leave it, anyhow. Have you a piece of paper?
LUKE. Paper what you write on? Never had none, mister.
REVENUE. [Looking about room, seesJim Dunn'spicture on wall, goes to it, takes it down.] If you don't mind, I'll put it on the back of Jim Dunn's picture. [Placing picture on table, begins to print.] I'll print it for you, so it'll be easy to read. My address is here, so if you change your mind you can send for me.
LUKE. 'Tain't likely—come on. [Both go to doorway—Lukeextends hand,Revenuetakes it.] Good-by, mister—cheer up ... there's the horse.
REVENUE. Good-by. [ShakingLuke'shand.
LUKE. Don't be so glum, mister. Lemme hear you laff jist onct before yu go. [Revenuebegins to laugh weakly.] Aw, come on, laff out with it hearty. [Revenuelaughs louder.] Heartier yit.
[Revenueis now shouting his laughter, and is heard laughing until hoof-beats of his horse die down in the distance.[Lukewatches for a moment, then returns to table—takes a drink—picks up picture—turns it around several times before getting it right—then begins to study. In attempting to make out the name he slowly traces in the air with his index finger a capital "J"—then mutters "J-J-J," then describes a letter "I"—mutters "I-I-I," then a letter "M"—muttering "M-M-M, J-I-M—J-I-M—JIM." In the same way describes and mutters D-U-N-N.
[Revenueis now shouting his laughter, and is heard laughing until hoof-beats of his horse die down in the distance.
[Lukewatches for a moment, then returns to table—takes a drink—picks up picture—turns it around several times before getting it right—then begins to study. In attempting to make out the name he slowly traces in the air with his index finger a capital "J"—then mutters "J-J-J," then describes a letter "I"—mutters "I-I-I," then a letter "M"—muttering "M-M-M, J-I-M—J-I-M—JIM." In the same way describes and mutters D-U-N-N.
LUKE. Jim Dunn! By God! [He rushes to corner, grabs shot-gun, runs to doorway, raises gun in direction stranger has gone—looks intently—then slowly lets gun fall to his side, and scans the distance with his hand shadowing his eyes—steps inside—slowly puts gun in corner—seats himself at table.] Jim Dunn!—and he begged me to kill 'im!!
Modestyis reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark, the translator of the play from the French, and of Samuel French, publisher, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.
Modestyis reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark, the translator of the play from the French, and of Samuel French, publisher, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.
PAUL HERVIEU
Paul Hervieu, one of the foremost of contemporary French dramatists, was born in 1857 at Neuilly, near Paris. Although he prepared for the bar, having passed the examination at twenty, and practised his profession for a few years, he soon set to writing short stories and novels which appeared in the early eighties.The Nippers, in 1890, established his reputation as a dramatist. The remainder of his life was given to writing for the stage. In 1900 he was elected to the French Academy. He died October 15, 1915.
In addition toThe Nippers, Hervieu's best-known long plays areThe Passing of the Torch,The Labyrinth, andKnow Thyself.
Modestyis his well-known one-act play. In subtlety of technic and in delicacy of touch it is one of the finest examples of French one-act plays. Its humor and light, graceful satire are noteworthy.
TIME:The present.
SCENE:A drawing-room. Entrance, C;sofa, chairs, writing-desk.JacquesandHenrietteenterC,from dinner.Henriettein ball costume,Jacquesin evening dress. They come downC.
HENRIETTE. What is it? Is it so terribly embarrassing?
JACQUES. You can easily guess.
HENRIETTE. You're so long-winded. You make me weary—come to the point.
JACQUES. I'll risk all at a stroke—My dear Henriette, we are cousins. I am unmarried, you—a widow. Will you—will you be my wife?
HENRIETTE. Oh, my dear Jacques, whatareyou thinking of? We were such good friends! And now you're going to be angry.
JACQUES. Why?
HENRIETTE. Because I'm not going to give you the sort of answer you'd like.
JACQUES. You don't—you don't think I'd make a good husband?
HENRIETTE. Frankly, no.
JACQUES. I don't please you?
HENRIETTE. As a cousin you are charming; as a husband you would be quite impossible.
JACQUES. What have you against me?
HENRIETTE. Nothing that you're to blame for. It is merely the fault of my character;thatforces me to refuse you.
JACQUES. But I can't see why you——?
HENRIETTE. [With an air of great importance.] A great change is taking place in the hearts of us women. We have resolved henceforward not to be treated as dolls, but as creatures of reason. As for me, I am most unfortunate, for nobody ever did anything but flatter me. I have always been too self-satisfied, too——
JACQUES. You have always been the most charming of women, the most——
HENRIETTE. Stop! It's exactly that sort of exaggeration that's begun to make me so unsure of myself. I want you to understand once for all, Jacques, I have a conscience, and, furthermore, it is beginning to develop. I have taken some important resolutions.
JACQUES. Whatdoyou mean?
HENRIETTE. I have resolved to better myself, to raise my moral and intellectual standards, and to do that I must be guided, criticised——
JACQUES. But you already possess every imaginable quality! You are charitable, cultured, refined——
HENRIETTE. [Annoyed.] Please!
[Turns away and sits on settee.Jacquesaddresses her from behind chair.
[Turns away and sits on settee.Jacquesaddresses her from behind chair.
JACQUES. You are discreet, witty——
HENRIETTE. The same old compliments! Everybody tells me that. I want to be preached to, contradicted, scolded——
JACQUES. You could never standthat.
HENRIETTE. Yes, I could. I should be happy to profit by the criticism. It would inspire me.
JACQUES. I'd like to see the man who has the audacity to criticise you to your face——
HENRIETTE. That is enough! I trust you are aware that you are not the person fit to exercise this influence over me?
JACQUES. How could I? Everything about you pleases me. It can never be otherwise.
HENRIETTE. How interesting! That's the very reason I rejected your proposal. I sha'n't marry until I am certain that I shall not be continually pestered with compliments and flattery and submission. The man who marries me shall make it his business to remind me of my shortcomings, to correct all my mistakes. He must give me the assurance that I am continually bettering myself.
JACQUES. And this—husband—have you found him already?
HENRIETTE. What—? Oh, who knows?
JACQUES. Perhaps it's—Albert?
HENRIETTE. Perhaps it is—what of it?
JACQUES. Really!
HENRIETTE. You want me to speak frankly?
JACQUES. Of course.
HENRIETTE. Then—you wouldn't be annoyed if I said something nice about Albert?
[Jacquesbrings downC.chair which is by desk, facingHenriette.
[Jacquesbrings downC.chair which is by desk, facingHenriette.
JACQUES. Why, he's your friend!
HENRIETTE. Oh! So you, too, have a good opinion of him?
JACQUES. Certainly.
HENRIETTE. Well, what would you say of him?
JACQUES. [Trying to be fair.] I'd trust him with money—I've never heard he was a thief.
HENRIETTE. But in other ways?
JACQUES. [Still conscientious.] I believe him to be somewhat—somewhat——
HENRIETTE. Wilful? Headstrong?
JACQUES. Um—uncultured, let us say.
HENRIETTE. As you like—but for my part, I find that that air of his inspires absolute confidence. He knows how to be severe at times——
JACQUES. You're mistaken about that; that's only simple brute force. Go to the Zoo: the ostrich, the boa constrictor, the rhinoceros, all produce the same effect on you as your Albert——
HENRIETTE. My Albert? My Albert? Oh, I don't appropriate him so quickly as all that. His qualifications as censor are not yet entirely demonstrated.
[Jacquesrises and approachesHenriette,who maintains an air of cold dignity.
[Jacquesrises and approachesHenriette,who maintains an air of cold dignity.
JACQUES. For heaven's sake, Henriette, stop this nonsense!
HENRIETTE. What nonsense?
JACQUES. Tell me you are only playing with me. That you only wanted to put my love to the test! To make me jealous! To torture me! You have succeeded. Stop it, for heaven's sake——
HENRIETTE. My dear friend, I'm very sorry for you. I wish I could help you, but I cannot. I have given you a perfect description of the husband I want, and I am heart-broken that you bear so remote a resemblance to him.
JACQUES. Only promise you will think over your decision.
HENRIETTE. It is better to stop right now.
JACQUES. Don't send me away like this. Don't——
HENRIETTE. I might give you false hopes. I have only to tell you that I shall never consent to be the wife of a man who cannot be the severest of censors.
JACQUES. [Kneeling.] I beg you!
HENRIETTE. No, no, no, Jacques! Spare me that. [A telephone rings in the next room.] There's the 'phone——
JACQUES. Don't go!
[Henrietterises hastily and goes to door.Jacquestries for a moment to stop her.
[Henrietterises hastily and goes to door.Jacquestries for a moment to stop her.
HENRIETTE. I must go. Go away, I tell you. I'll be furious if I find you here when I come back.
JACQUES. Henriette!
HENRIETTE. [Coming downL.to table.] Not now! Please, Jacques. [Exit.]
JACQUES. I can't leave it that way. I am the husband whowill make her happy. But how? That is the question. [Pause.] Ah, Albert!
[EnterAlbert.He shakes hands withJacques.
[EnterAlbert.He shakes hands withJacques.
ALBERT. How are you, rival?
JACQUES. [Gravely.] My friend, we are no longer rivals.
ALBERT. How's that?
JACQUES. I have just had a talk with Henriette; she refuses to marry either one of us.
ALBERT. Did she mention me?
JACQUES. Casually.
[Both sit down,Alberton sofa,Jacqueson chair near it.
[Both sit down,Alberton sofa,Jacqueson chair near it.
ALBERT. What did she say?
JACQUES. Oh, I wouldn't repeat it; it wouldn't be friendly.
ALBERT. Imustknow.
JACQUES. Very well, then—she said that you had not succeeded—nor had I—to find the way to her heart. Between you and me, we've got a high-minded woman to deal with, a philosopher who detests flattery. It seems you have been in the habit of paying her compliments——
ALBERT. I never pay compliments.
JACQUES. Whatever you did, she didn't like it. Moreover—since you want the whole truth—you seem to her a bit—ridiculous.
ALBERT. Pardon?
JACQUES. The very word: ridiculous. She wants a husband who will act as a sort of conscience pilot. Evidently, you haven't appealed to her in that capacity.
ALBERT. Sometimes I used to be rather sharp with her——
JACQUES. You did it too daintily, perhaps; you lacked severity. I'll wager you smiled, instead of scowled—that would have been fatal!
ALBERT. I don't understand.
JACQUES. Henriette is a singular woman; to get her, youhave to tell her that you don't like her—her pride demands it. Tell her all her bad qualities, straight from the shoulder.
ALBERT. [Feeling himself equal to the task.] Don't worry about that! [Rises and walks about.] I know women love to be told things straight out.
JACQUES. I'm not the man for that; nor are you, I suppose?
ALBERT. No? Jacques, I'm awfully obliged to you; you've done me a good turn——
JACQUES, Don't mention it——
ALBERT. You want to do me one more favor?
JACQUES. [Devotedly.] Anything you like!
ALBERT. Promise me you'll never let Henrietta know that you told me this?
JACQUES. I promise; but why?
ALBERT. You know she has to understand that my behavior toward her is in character. Natural, you see.
JACQUES. Oh, you're going at it strenuously.
ALBERT. I am.
JACQUES. Your decision honors you.
ALBERT. Let's not have Henriette find us together. Would you mind disappearing?
JACQUES. With pleasure. I'll look in later and get the news.
[Jacquesrises.
[Jacquesrises.
ALBERT. Thanks, Jacques.
JACQUES. Good-by, Albert.
[Exits after shaking hands cordially withAlbert.
[Exits after shaking hands cordially withAlbert.
HENRIETTE. [Re-entering asAlbertassumes a rather severe attitude.] How are you? [Pause.] Have you seen Jacques?
ALBERT. [With a determined air.] No, Henriette. Thank God!
HENRIETTE. Why?
ALBERT. Because it pains me to see men in your presence whom you care nothing for.
HENRIETTE. [Delighted.] You don't like that?
[Sitting down on sofa.
[Sitting down on sofa.
ALBERT. No, I don't. And I'd like to tell you——
HENRIETTE. About my relations with Jacques?
ALBERT. Oh, he's not the only one.
HENRIETTE. Heaps of others, I suppose?
ALBERT. [Sits on chair near sofa.] You suppose correctly; heaps.
HENRIETTE. Really?
ALBERT. You are a coquette.
HENRIETTE. You think so?
ALBERT. I am positive.
HENRIETTE. I suppose I displease you in other ways, too?
ALBERT. In a great many other ways.
HENRIETTE. [Really delighted.] How confidently you say that!
ALBERT. So much the worse if you don't like it!
HENRIETTE. Quite the contrary, my dear Albert; you can't imagine how you please me when you talk like that. It's perfectly adorable.
ALBERT. It makes very little difference to me whether I please you or not. I speak according to my temperament. Perhaps it is a bit authoritative, but I can't helpthat.
HENRIETTE. You are superb.
ALBERT. Oh, no. I'm just myself.
HENRIETTE. Oh, if you were only the——
ALBERT. I haven't the slightest idea what you were about to say, but I'll guarantee that there's not a more inflexible temper than mine in Paris.
HENRIETTE. I can easily believe it. [Pause.] Now tell me in what way you think I'm coquettish.
[Sitting on edge of sofa in an interested attitude.Alberttakes out cigarette, lights and smokes it.
[Sitting on edge of sofa in an interested attitude.Alberttakes out cigarette, lights and smokes it.
ALBERT. That's easy; for instance, when you go to the theatre, to a reception, to the races. As soon as you arrive the men flock about in dozens; those who don't know you come to be introduced. You're the talking-stock of society. Now I should be greatly obliged if you would tell me to what you attribute this notoriety?
HENRIETTE. [Modestly.] Well, I should attribute it to the fact that I am—agreeable, and pleasant——
ALBERT. There are many women no less so.
HENRIETTE. [Summoning up all her modesty to reply.] You force me to recognize the fact——
ALBERT. And I know many women fully as pleasant as you who don't flaunt their favors in the face of everybody;theypreserve some semblance of dignity, a certain air of aloof distinction that it would do you no harm to acquire.
HENRIETTE. [With a gratitude that is conscious of its bounds.] Thanks, thanks so much. [Drawing back to a corner of the sofa.] I am deeply obliged to you——
ALBERT. Not at all.
HENRIETTE. In the future I shall try to behave more decorously.
ALBERT. Another thing——
HENRIETTE. [The first signs of impatience begin to appear.] What? Another thing to criticise?
ALBERT. A thousand! [Settling himself comfortably.
HENRIETTE. Well, hurry up.
ALBERT. You must rid yourself of your excessive and ridiculous school-girl sentimentality.
HENRIETTE. I wonder just on what you base your statement. Would you oblige me so far as to explain that?
ALBERT. With pleasure. I remember one day in the country you were in tears because apoorlittle mouse had fallen into the claws of awretchedcat; two minutes later you were sobbing because thepoorcat choked in swallowing thewretchedlittle mouse.
HENRIETTE. That was only my kindness to dumb animals. Is it wrong to be kind to dumb animals?
[She is about to rise whenAlbertstops her with a gesture.
[She is about to rise whenAlbertstops her with a gesture.
ALBERT. That would be of no consequence, if it weren't that you were of so contradictory a nature that you engage in the emptiest, most frivolous conversations, the most——
HENRIETTE. [Slightly disdainful.] Ah, you are going too far! You make me doubt your power of analysis. I am interested only in noble and high things——
ALBERT. And yet as soon as the conversation takes a serious turn, it's appalling to see you; you yawn and look bored to extinction.
HENRIETTE. There you are right—partly.
ALBERT. You see!
HENRIETTE. [Sharp and even antagonistic.] Yes, I have that unfortunate gift of understanding things before people have finished explaining them. While the others are waiting for the explanation, I can't wait, and I fly on miles ahead——
ALBERT. Hm—that sounds probable; I sha'n't say anything more about that just now. But while I'm on the subject, I have more than once noticed that you are guilty of the worst vice woman ever possessed——
HENRIETTE. And what, if you please?
ALBERT. Vanity.
HENRIETTE. I vain? Oh, you're going too far!
ALBERT. [Unruffled.] Not a word! Every time I tell you a fault, you twist it round to your own advantage. Whereas you are really worse——
HENRIETTE. [Rising and gathering her skirts about her with virtuous indignation.] You are rude! I suppose you would find fault with me if I considered myself more polite than the person whom I have the honor to address?
ALBERT. I hope you don't intend that remark as personal.
HENRIETTE. I certainly do.
[She crosses to the other side of the stage and sits down.Albertrises and goes up to her.
[She crosses to the other side of the stage and sits down.Albertrises and goes up to her.
ALBERT. Henriette! No! [Laughing.] I see your trick.
HENRIETTE. What do you mean?
ALBERT. You can't deceive me by pretending to be angry. You wanted to see whether I could withstand your temper. Let us now proceed to the next chapter: your manner of dressing.
HENRIETTE. [Now really outraged.] My manner of dressing? You dare!
[HenriettecrossesL.Front,Albertfollowing her.
[HenriettecrossesL.Front,Albertfollowing her.
ALBERT. Yes, that will be enough for to-day——
HENRIETTE. And then you'll begin again to-morrow!
ALBERT. Yes.
HENRIETTE. And do you think for one minute that I'll listen to you while you insult me to my face?Youare the vain one, to think you can come to that!Youare the frivolous one,youare the——
ALBERT. [Slightly perturbed.] Be careful what you say!
HENRIETTE. I'll take care of that. Let me tell you that you are a detestable cynic. You are disgustingly personal; always dwelling on details, on the least——
ALBERT. Which is as much as calling me a fool?
HENRIETTE. Just about. You would be if you didn't read your morning paper regularly; so regularly that I know in advance exactly what you are going to say to me during the day.
ALBERT. Why not call me a parrot?
HENRIETTE. That would flatter you, for you don't speak as well as a parrot; a parrot's memory never gets clouded, a parrot has at least the common politeness to——
ALBERT. [Between his teeth.] I won't stand for this. I wonder how you could have endured me so long if you thought me such a fool.
HENRIETTE. I believed you harmless.
ALBERT. Are you aware that you have wounded me cruelly?
HENRIETTE.Youhave woundedme. Thank heaven, though, we had this discussion! Now I'll know how to conduct myself toward you in the future.
ALBERT. Thank heaven for the same thing! It was high time! I grieve to think that only last night I had fully made up my mind to ask you to be my wife!
HENRIETTE. My dear friend, if you ever do so, I shall show you the door immediately.
[EnterJacqueshurriedly.Henrietteruns to him as for protection.
[EnterJacqueshurriedly.Henrietteruns to him as for protection.
JACQUES. What's all this noise? What's the matter?
HENRIETTE. Oh, Jacques—I'm so glad you've come.
ALBERT. Just in time! You put an end to our pleasant little tête-à-tête.
JACQUES. But what's happened?
HENRIETTE. Well, monsieur here——
ALBERT. No, it was mademoiselle who——
[HenrietteandAlberteach take an arm ofJacquesand bring him down-stageC.His attention is constantly shifting from one to the other, as they address him in turn.
[HenrietteandAlberteach take an arm ofJacquesand bring him down-stageC.His attention is constantly shifting from one to the other, as they address him in turn.
HENRIETTE. Just think, Jacques——
ALBERT. Jacques, she had the audacity to——
HENRIETTE. Stop! I'm going to tell him first——
JACQUES. You're both too excited to explain anything. Albert, you take a little stroll and cool off.
ALBERT. [Retreating toward the door.] Charmed.
HENRIETTE. Then I can draw a free breath.
JACQUES. [ToAlbert.] I'll fix up things while you're away.
ALBERT. [To both.] I won't give in.
HENRIETTE. Neither will I.
JACQUES. Tut, tut!
ALBERT. Good-day, mademoiselle.
HENRIETTE. Good-day.
JACQUES. Good-day, Albert.
[ExitAlbert.
[ExitAlbert.
HENRIETTE. Thank goodness, we're rid of him!
JACQUES. [Sympathetically.] Tell me all about it.
HENRIETTE. [Sits down on sofa, invitingJacquesby a gesture to do the same. He sits beside her.] That man invented the most abominable things about me; criticised me to my face!
JACQUES. He did!
HENRIETTE. It was so ridiculous—makes me sick to think about it.
JACQUES. My dear Henriette, don't think about it. Albert must have behaved like a brute to make you so angry.
HENRIETTE. Yes, don't you think so?Youthink I'm right?
JACQUES. [Loyally.] Of course I do.
HENRIETTE. [At her ease once more.] You encourage me, Jacques.
JACQUES. When I saw you were angry I said to myself at once: "Henriette is right."
HENRIETTE. Really?
JACQUES. I said it because I knew you were by nature peace-loving and considerate——
HENRIETTE. [With profound conviction.] Well, I think that's the least that could be said of me.
JACQUES. In any event, you are always tactful, you always——
HENRIETTE.Youknow me, Jacques!
JACQUES. I flatter myself. I felt instinctively you couldn't be wrong. You have always been so admirably poised, so unfailingly considerate.
HENRIETTE. [With perfect simplicity.] Frankly now, do I ever lose my temper with you?
JACQUES. [In good faith.] Never. With me you are always patient, gracious, modest——
HENRIETTE. But I remember, a little while ago, I made you suffer——
JACQUES. Yes, I was unhappy. But "if after every storm comes such a calm"——
HENRIETTE. It was all my fault. You understand me; you are truly a friend.
JACQUES. Nothing more?
[Rising, but standing near her.Henrietteblushingly looks down at her shoe.
[Rising, but standing near her.Henrietteblushingly looks down at her shoe.
HENRIETTE. Oh——
JACQUES. Prove that you mean that sincerely.
HENRIETTE. What have I to do? [Same business.
JACQUES. Place your future in my hands; marry me.
HENRIETTE. [With downcast eyes.] I was just thinking about it. [Same business, but with repressed joy.
JACQUES. [About to embrace her.] Ah!
HENRIETTE. Wait!
[Complete metamorphosis. Her joy is still present, but it has taken on a playful, serio-comic aspect. Rising and putting her hand in his.
[Complete metamorphosis. Her joy is still present, but it has taken on a playful, serio-comic aspect. Rising and putting her hand in his.
JACQUES. Why do you hesitate?
HENRIETTE. Jacques, do you remember what I told you not long ago?
JACQUES. Yes.
HENRIETTE. In spite of that, are you quite sure that I am not vain or coquettish?
JACQUES. I am certain.
HENRIETTE. You are also firmly resolved to be my moral guide, critic, helper?
JACQUES. [Stolid as ever.] I am.
HENRIETTE. I make one condition.
JACQUES. Name it.
HENRIETTE. On your word of honor?
JACQUES. On my word of honor. Tell me.
HENRIETTE. Will you swear to tell me, without pity, every time you find me at fault? Swear.
JACQUES. I swear.
HENRIETTE. Then you have my promise.
JACQUES. [As they embrace.] Dearest!
CURTAIN
The Deacon's Hatis reprinted by special arrangement with Miss Jeannette Marks and with Little, Brown and Company, Boston, the publisher ofThree Welsh Plays, from which this play is taken. All rights reserved. For permission to perform address the author in care of the publisher.
The Deacon's Hatis reprinted by special arrangement with Miss Jeannette Marks and with Little, Brown and Company, Boston, the publisher ofThree Welsh Plays, from which this play is taken. All rights reserved. For permission to perform address the author in care of the publisher.
JEANNETTE MARKS
Jeannette Marks, well-known essayist, poet, and playwright, was born in 1875 at Chattanooga, Tennessee, but spent her early life in Philadelphia, where her father, the late William Dennis Marks, was professor of dynamics in the University of Pennsylvania and president of the Edison Electric Light Company. She attended school in Dresden, and in 1900 was graduated from Wellesley College. She obtained her master's degree from Wellesley in 1903. Her graduate studies were continued at the Bodleian Library and at the British Museum. Since 1901 she has been on the staff of the English Department at Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Massachusetts. Her chief courses are Nineteenth Century Poetry and Play-writing.
Miss Marks's interest in Welsh life is the result of her hiking several summers among the Welsh hills and valleys. She became intimately acquainted with Welsh peasant life. It is said that Edward Knobloch, well-known dramatist, on one of her homeward voyages from one of her summer outings in Wales, pointed out to Miss Marks the dramatic possibilities of the material she had thus acquired.Three Welsh Playswas the result. Two of these plays, without the author's knowledge, were entered in 1911 for the Welsh National Theatre prize contest. To her credit, the plays won the prize. The complete volume appeared in 1917.
The Deacon's Hatis a fine study of the life of the common folk of Wales.
SCENE:A little shop called Y Gegin (The Kitchen), in Bala, North Wales.
TIME:Monday morning at half-past eleven.
To the right is the counter of Y Gegin, set out with a bountiful supply of groceries; behind the counter are grocery-stocked shelves. Upon the counter is a good-sized enamel-ware bowl filled with herring pickled in brine and leek, also a basket of fresh eggs, a jar of pickles, some packages of codfish, a half dozen loaves of bread, a big round cheese, several pounds of butter wrapped in print paper, etc., etc.
To the left are a cheerful glowing fire and ingle.
At the back center is a door; between the door and the fire stands a grandfather's clock with a shining brass face. Between the clock and the door, back centre, is a small tridarn [Welsh dresser] and a chair. From the rafters hang flitches of bacon, hams, bunches of onions, herbs, etc. On either side of the fireplace are latticed windows, showing a glimpse of the street. Before the fire is a small, round, three-legged table; beside it a tall, straight-backed chair.
Between the table and left is a door which is the entrance to Y Gegin and from which, on a metal elbow, dangles a large bell.
At rise of curtain Hugh Williams enters at back centre, absorbed in reading a volume of Welsh theological essays. He is dressed in a brightly striped vest, a short, heavy cloth coat, cut away in front and with lapels trimmed with brass buttons, swallowtailsbehind, also trimmed with brass buttons, stock wound around his neck, and tight trousers down to his boot-tops.
Neli Williams, his wife, a comely, capable young woman, busy with her knitting every instant she talks, is clad in her market costume, a scarlet cloak, and a tall black Welsh beaver. Over her arm is an immense basket.
NELI. [Commandingly.] Hughie, put down that book!
HUGH. [Still going on reading.] Haven't I just said a man is his own master, whatever!
NELI. Hughie, ye're to mind the shop while I'm gone!
HUGH. [Patiently.] Yiss, yiss.
NELI. I don't think ye hear a word I am sayin' whatever.
HUGH. Yiss, I hear every word ye're sayin'.
NELI. What is it, then?
HUGH. [Weakly.] 'Tis all about—about—the—the weather whatever!
NELI. Ye've not heard a word, an' ye're plannin' to read that book from cover to cover, I can see.
HUGH. [A little too quickly.] Nay, I have no plans....