We’re none of us perfect!
COLONEL.
No, [rubbing his hands] thank Heaven! It’s the spice of the old Adam that makes life endurable!
MARGERY [again embracing him].
Oh, I’m so happy, uncle!
ENID [aside].
Wish she wouldn’t do that!
MARGERY.
Oh, so happy!
COLONEL.
So am I, Margery. What did I always say? Caroline’s a heart of gold. I knew she would come round. I always said I’d stand by you and Gerald.
MARGERY.
Uncle!
COLONEL.
I always said so!
MARGERY.
You ran away!
COLONEL.
Yes, but I said so. Then you have got her card?
MARGERY [nodding her head].
Yes!
[Jumps up and gives him another kiss.
ENID [aside, jealously].
I do wish she wouldn’t!
COLONEL.
My doing, Margery—my doing!
ENID.
I have a card as well!
COLONEL.
My doing, Miss Bethune!
ENID.
I’ve just been ordering my gown!
COLONEL [gallantly].
I trust it will be worthy of the wearer.
[Bows.Enidsmiles.
MARGERY.
Have you a card, Miss Vivash?
VICTORIA [who has sat very quietly, now rises].
If you’ll excuse me, dear, I’ll say good-morning!
MARGERY [shakes hands].
Must you go?
[ExitVictoria,L.
MARGERY.
Excuseme,uncle. Gerald doesn’t know you’re here!
[Exit,R.
COLONEL.
Miss Vivash?
ENID.
Don’t trouble, Colonel! She resents an escort. I have no patience with Victoria. Trying to be a man!
COLONEL.
And making only asuccès d’estime!
ENID.
I like a woman to be womanly!
COLONEL [aside].
The best of ’em.
ENID.
I don’t mean weak—like Agnes. She goes to the other extreme. Do you know, I’m getting very anxious about Agnes!
COLONEL.
Mrs. Sylvester?
ENID.
Haven’t you noticed anything? Of course not! You men never do!
COLONEL.
I am afraid I must plead guilty!
ENID.
Haven’t you observed how much she and your nephew are together?
COLONEL.
But they’re collaborating.
ENID.
Ah, Colonel, when a man collaborates with a woman, a third person ought always to be present.
COLONEL.
To protect the man?
ENID [tapping him, playfully].
You are incorrigible!
COLONEL [cheerfully].
I always was, and at my age reformation is out of the question!
ENID.
Oh, you are not so old as all that!
COLONEL.
Guess.
ENID.
Fifty!
COLONEL [pleased].
Add six to it!
ENID.
Six!
COLONEL [aside].
She might add eight.
ENID.
I don’t believe it, Colonel.
COLONEL [aside].
Quitethe best of ’em! [Sits.] So you have appointed yourself the third person?
ENID.
It’s time someone did.
COLONEL.
A sort of Vigilance Committee, eh?
ENID.
I simply take the interest of a friend in Agnes.
COLONEL.
And what is the result of your observations?
ENID.
I have come to a terrible conclusion.
COLONEL.
You alarm me!
ENID.
That she is a poor, tempted creature.
COLONEL.
Bless me! I never regarded her in that light before. I thought the boot was on the other leg. [Corrects himself hurriedly.] Foot!—foot! [IndicatingEnid’s,which she is carefully showing; aside.] Very neat foot she has!
ENID.
Men always stand by one another, so should women. Agnes must be protected against herself!
COLONEL.
Then it’s herself, after all? I thought you meant my nephew.
ENID.
So I do. She is the moth—he is the candle.
COLONEL.
Really!——
ENID.
Oh, you men, you men! You’re all alike—at least, I won’t say all!
COLONEL.
Say all, say all! It really doesn’t matter!
ENID.
No, no, I won’t say all!
COLONEL.
You say so in your book!
ENID [pleased].
You’ve read my book?
COLONEL [evading the question].
“Man, the Betrayer?â€
ENID.
Well, you know, Colonel, one has to paint with a broad brush.
[Pantomime.
COLONEL.
Yes, when one paints with tar! [Aside.] Very nice arm, too! [Aloud.] Look at your title!
ENID.
“Man, the Betrayer!â€
COLONEL [aside].
Don’t know any more!
ENID.
A mere figure of speech!
COLONEL [admiring her].
Figure?
ENID.
Mere figure!
COLONEL.
Damned fine figure, too!
[To himself, but aloud.
ENID.
Colonel!
COLONEL.
Ten thousand pardons! I was thinking of something else. Pray forgive my bad language!
ENID.
Oh, I’m used to it! Victoria’s is much worse!
COLONEL.
Miss Vivash!
ENID.
Vulgar-minded thing! Learned French on purpose to read Zola’s novels. I don’t suppose that evenyouhave read them.
COLONEL.
Oh, haven’t I? Every one!
ENID.
I don’t believe it, Colonel!
COLONEL.
I’m a shocking old sinner! I never professed to be anything else!
ENID.
I simply don’t believe it! You men exaggerate so! You make yourselves out to be so much worse than you are. Whereas we women pretend to be so much better. That’s the worst of us! We are such hypocrites! Oh, if you knew as much about women asIdo——
COLONEL [aside, much interested].
Now I’m going to hear something. [MeanwhileMargeryhas crept in,R.,behind them. She flings her handkerchief over theColonel’seyes, and ties it in a knot behind his head, then skips away from him. Rising.] You rascal! It’s that Margery! I know it is! Where are you? [Groping about,Margeryevading him, and in shrieks of laughter.] Margery, if I catch you!
MARGERY.
But you can’t!
[Enidhas risen to evade theColonel,who is groping all over the room—a sort of blind man’s buff—all laughing.
COLONEL [seizingEnid].
I’ve got you!
[Kisses her.Enidshrieks.Margeryroars.Coloneltears off the handkerchief and stands aghast.
Re-enterWells,L.
WELLS.
Lady Wargrave.
[Sudden silence. ExitColonel,R.Enidruns out,C.,in confusion.
EnterLady Wargrave,L.,and comes down.
[ExitWells,L.Enidre-appearsC.,and runs across stage behindLady Wargrave,and off,L.Margerystands confused, not knowing how to greetLady Wargrave.
LADY WARGRAVE [putting out both hands].
Margery! [Holding bothMargery’shands].
MARGERY.
Oh, Lady Wargrave!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Aunt. I’ve called to make amends to you.
MARGERY.
Amends?
LADY WARGRAVE.
For my neglect. [Kisses her.] Forgive me, Margery, butyour marriage was a shock to me. However, I’ve got over it. Perhaps, after all, Gerald has chosen wisely!
MARGERY.
Thank you for your kind words. I knew you had got over it.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Of course! you had my card.
MARGERY.
I knew from uncle, too. How good of him to bring it all about!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Theodore!
MARGERY.
I mean, to reconcile you!
LADY WARGRAVE.
My dear Margery, your uncle has never presumed to mention the subject?
MARGERY.
Oh, what a story he has told us! he said it washisdoing.
LADY WARGRAVE.
No doubt. When you know Theodore as well as I do, you will have learnt what value to attach to his observations!
MARGERY.
Won’t I pay him out?
[Shaking her fist.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Never mind your uncle. Tell me about yourself—and about Gerald. I hope your marriage has turned out a happy one.
MARGERY.
Yes—we’re as happy as the day is long.
LADY WARGRAVE.
That is good news. Then you haven’t found your new position difficult?
MARGERY.
Oh, I’m quite used to it! I’m not a bit shy now. Of course I put my foot in it—I make mistakes sometimes; but even born ladies sometimes make mistakes.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Yes, Margery. [Bending her head slightly.] And Gerald?
MARGERY.
Is the best husband in the world to me. Of course, he’s very busy——
LADY WARGRAVE.
Busy?
MARGERY.
With his book; and sometimes I can’t help annoying him. That’s nothing. We haven’t had a real cross word yet.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Does he write very much?
MARGERY.
Oh, morning, noon, and night. He’s always got a pen in his hand. I often say I wonder he doesn’t wear the ceiling out with looking at it.
[Laughs.
LADY WARGRAVE.
That isn’t writing, Margery.
MARGERY.
No, but it’s thinking—and he’s always thinking.
[Falls into a reverie.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Do you go out much?
MARGERY.
We went out a good deal at first, but we got tired of it. I like home best; at any rate, Gerald does. I rather liked going out. Oh, I’m quite a success in society.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Indeed?
MARGERY.
Of course, aunt, I’m not clever; but I suppose I’m witty without knowing it!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Witty?
MARGERY.
At any rate, I make the people laugh. Isn’t that being witty? ThenIlaugh as well, although I don’t know what I’m laughing at, I’m sure! [Laughs.] Oh, everybodylaughs at me—but Gerald. And he’s thinking of his book!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Do you have many visitors?
MARGERY.
Oh, yes! Miss Vivash—Miss Bethune—Dr. Mary—Mrs. Sylvester—and uncle. They’re often coming. As for Mrs. Sylvester, she almost lives here!—oh, and Captain Sylvester, he’s taken to calling lately!
LADY WARGRAVE.
In future, dear, you’ll have another visitor. I see I have neglected you too long. And you must come and see me. We’ll go out together.
MARGERY.
Oh, thatwillbe nice! Then you havequiteforgiven me?
LADY WARGRAVE.
But not myself!
MARGERY [embracing her].
Oh, why is everyone so good to me?
Re-enterGerald,R.,followed byColonel.
GERALD.
Aunt, this is kind of you! but you were always kind.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Not always. I ought to have paid this visit earlier. I made a mistake, Gerald, and I have come to acknowledge it.
COLONEL [laying his hand onLady Wargrave’sshoulder in an access of enthusiasm].
Caroline, you’re a trump!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Theodore!
COLONEL.
No other word for it! I always said you’d come round!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Never!
COLONEL.
Always!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Theodore, youneversaid so!
COLONEL.
To myself.
[Turns off.
GERALD.
Better late than never, aunt. And thank you for the card for your At Home.
[Talks toLady Wargrave.
MARGERY.
Oh, uncle, you’re a shocking old story, aren’t you?
COLONEL.
What have I been saying now?
MARGERY.
You said it wasyourdoing!
COLONEL.
So it was!
MARGERY.
Aunt vows you’d nothing to do with it at all!
COLONEL [takingMargeryaside].
Caroline’s a heart of gold; but your aunt must be managing! So I let her manage, and I manageher.
MARGERY.
You?
[Smiling.
COLONEL.
But I do it quietly. I influence her, without her knowing it. Sheer force of character. Chut! not a word! [Backing away from her, signalling silence; backs intoLady Wargrave.] Ten thousand pardons!
[Bows profusely.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Really, Theodore!
[Margerygoes up, stifling her laughter; he shakes his handkerchief at her.
Re-enterWells,L.
WELLS.
Mrs. Sylvester!
EnterMrs. Sylvester;she hesitates, on seeingLady Wargrave.ExitWells,L.
GERALD.
Pray come in, Mrs. Sylvester. You know my aunt.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I think we’ve met before.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Yes, at my nephew’s chambers. I remember perfectly. You were engaged upon some work or other.
GERALD.
It’s not finished yet. I am so interrupted!
[Glancing atMargerywho has crept down behindColonel.
MARGERY [whispering inColonel’sear].
Who kissed Miss Bethune?
[Colonelstarts guiltily;Margeryroars.
GERALD [angrily].
Margery!
[Margeryruns out,L.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Not finished yet!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
But we have made great progress.
LADY WARGRAVE.
And are you satisfied with what you have done?
GERALD.
It is certainly interesting.
LADY WARGRAVE.
It is not enough for me that a work of my nephew’s should be interesting! Tell me, as far as you have gone, do you think it is worthy of a Cazenove?
GERALD.
It is the work of my life.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
And of mine!
LADY WARGRAVE.
As far as you have gone. But what is to be the end of it?
GERALD.
Ah, we’ve not got there yet.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Would you admit a third collaborateur?
MRS. SYLVESTER [alarmed].
Who?
LADY WARGRAVE.
Anoldwoman.
GERALD.
Lady Wargrave’s joking!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Oh, I could put an end to it, I think!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
We don’t know what the end will be ourselves.
LADY WARGRAVE.
There I have the advantage. If I can help in any way, my experience is always at your service. Meanwhile, I fear I am another interruption. Theodore, your arm!
GERALD [follows them to door,L.].
Thank you so much for coming.
[Holding his hand out.
LADY WARGRAVE [taking it].
And for going?
[Exit withColonel,L.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
What does she mean?
GERALD.
Thank her for going?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
And the end of it?
GERALD.
Aunt always talks in riddles!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Is it a riddle?
GERALD [avoids her eyes].
Come, let us get to work. I’ve done hardly anything today. It’s first one interruption, then another.
[Sits.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
We should be quieter at our house.
GERALD.
There’s your husband!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Always a husband!
GERALD.
Or a wife. Ah, me!
[Sits with his head between his hands, staring at vacancy;Mrs. Sylvesterwatching him sympathetically.
MRS. SYLVESTER [comes and kneels by him].
Gerald! [He starts slightly.] You are not happy. You have realized the truth.
GERALD.
What truth?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Your marriage was a mistake from the beginning.
GERALD.
Not from the beginning. It started right enough, but somehow it has taken the wrong turn.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
It was wrong from the first. Mine was the true ideal. The thing that you thought love was a mere passion—an intoxication. Now you have come back to your better self you feel the need of sympathy.
GERALD.
No, no; my love was real enough, and I love Margery still; but love doesn’t seem to bear the wear and tear of marriage—the hourly friction—the continual jar.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
There is no friction in true marriage, Gerald. You say you love your wife, and it is good and loyal of you to deceive yourself; but you can’t deceive me. Haven’t I made the same mistake myself? I was a thoughtless, inexperienced girl, Jack was a handsome, easy-going man. We married, and for a year or two we jogged along. But I grew up—the girl became a woman. I read, I thought, I felt; my life enlarged. Jack never reads, never thinks—he is just the same. [Rising.] I am not unhappy, but my soul is starved—[goes to mantelpiece and stands looking at him]—as yours is!
[Pause.Margery’sface appears between the curtains at the back, wearing a broad smile. She grimaces at them, unobserved, and remains there; then looks atGeraldwith a long face of mock sympathy.
GERALD.
Well, we must make the best of it!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Yes, but whatisthe best? [Margerygrimaces at her.] Is our mistake so hopeless, irremediable? After all, is not true loyalty loyalty to oneself?
GERALD [looks at her].
You think so?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Or what becomes of our philosophy?
GERALD.
Yes, what becomes of it?
[Another pause.Margerylaughs almost audibly. During the next passage the laugh subsides into an expression of perplexity.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
What is a promise when the heart’s gone out of it?
GERALD.
Surely it is a promise.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
To an empty phrase must one sacrifice one’s life? Must one stake everything on the judgment of one’s youth? By the decision of a moment must one be bound for ever? Must one go through the world “with quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth?†Does one not owe a duty to oneself? There can be but one answer!
GERALD [absently].
Margery! [Margerywinces as if struck—quite serious now. Then with energy.] But, Agnes, Margery is impossible! She’s no companion to me! I am all alone! Her very laughter grates upon me! There’s no meaning in it! It is the laughter of a tomboy, of a clown! And she will never learn! She’s hopeless, Agnes, hopeless! [Margerydrops back horror-struck, but her face disappears only by degrees.Mrs. Sylvesterlays her hand on him. Another pause. The curtains close.] What is one to do? [Rising.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
We are face to face with the problem! Let us confront it boldly. Gerald, do you love me?
[A thud behind the curtains.Geraldstarts guiltily. Pause. They stand looking at one another.
GERALD [in a whisper].
What was that? [Goes up cautiously and draws curtains back, discoveringMargerystretched senseless on the floor.] Margery!
A Fortnight Later.
Scene.—Drawing-room atLady Wargrave’s.Main entranceC.,ConservatoryR.Entrance,L.,to an inner room. Fireplace,R.,up stage, near which isLady Wargrave’schair, with the cushion of Act I.
The stage is discovered half-filled withGuests,who stand and sit in groups, includingColonel,CaptainandMrs. Sylvester,andGerald.Lady Wargraveis receiving her guests. A buzz of general conversation; and a band is heard playing in the inner room, loudly at first, but softly after the picture is discovered.
SERVANT [at entranceC.].
Miss Vivash and Mr. Pettigrew!
EnterVictoria,followed leisurely byPercy,a very young man who is always smiling to himself, unconsciously.
VICTORIA [going straight toLady Wargraveand grasping her hand].
Good evening, Lady Wargrave, I have taken the liberty of bringing a friend whose name is no doubt known to you—Mr. Percy Pettigrew.
[Percybows distantly, smiling.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Pettigrew, did you say?
PERCY.
PercyBysshePettigrew.
[Smiling.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Of course!twoof your names arequitewell known to me; it is only the surname that is unfamiliar.
PERCY [smiling].
Pettigrew!
[Turns off.
GERALD.
One of my Oxford friends.
LADY WARGRAVE [aside to him].
One of those who are always at Oxford?
VICTORIA.
His “Supercilia†are quoted everywhere.
LADY WARGRAVE.
His——?
GERALD.
A column Percy does for “The Corset.â€
VICTORIA.
A newspaper devoted to our cause.
GERALD.
“The Corset†is Percy’s organ.
LADY WARGRAVE.
Ah, his rattle!
SERVANT.
Dr. Bevan.
DR. BEVAN [shakes hands withLady Wargrave].
I hope I am not late; but I was detained at the hospital. Most interesting case, unhappily unfit for publication.
SERVANT.
Miss Bethune.
[ExitServant.
EnterEnid.
COLONEL [toSylvester].
The best of ’em! [Enidshakes hands withLady Wargrave.] Ah, what a pity, what a pity, Sylvester!
SYLVESTER.
What is a pity, Colonel?
COLONEL.
That such a figure should be wasted!
SYLVESTER [in a matter of course voice].
I prefer Mrs. Cazenove’s.
[Turns off.Coloneleyes him curiously. The otherGuestsshould be so arranged that each man is surrounded by a little group of women.
PERCY [the centre of one group, lolling lazily, always smiling with self-complacency, suddenly sits up and shivers].
No, no! don’t mention it. It bores me so.
[Shivers.
CHORUS.
And me!
[All shiver.
VICTORIA.
The stage has ever been Woman’s greatest foe.
GUEST.
For centuries it has shirked the sexual problem.
SYLVESTER [who has strolled up].
But doesn’t it show signs of repentance?
PERCY.
The theatre is dying.
SYLVESTER.
Death-bed repentance, then. That’s the one problem it discusses.
GUEST.
It is the one problem in life.
PERCY.
The theatre is dying! Dixi!
[Leans back again.
DOCTOR.
The novel will sweep everything before it.
SYLVESTER.
You mean, the female novel?
DOCTOR.
Nothing can stop it.
SYLVESTER.
No, it stops at nothing.
DOCTOR.
Nor will it, till the problem is solved. That solution, I venture to predict, will be on the lines of pure mathematics.
SYLVESTER.
Really?
[Smothering a yawn.
DOCTOR.
I put the proposition in this way. The sexes are parallel lines.
SYLVESTER.
Which are bound to meet.
DOCTOR.
I must not be taken to admit, that there is any physiological necessity.
VOICES.
Certainly not.
DOCTOR [toLady Wargrave,who is passing].
I am sure, Lady Wargrave must agree with us.
LADY WARGRAVE.
What is that, Doctor?
DOCTOR.
That there is no physiological necessity——
LADY WARGRAVE.
To discuss physiology? I am quite of your opinion.
[Passes on.
ENID [who is in a group surroundingColonel].
That’s where we differ. What isyourview, Colonel?
COLONEL.
My dear Miss Bethune, there is no occasion for Man to expressanyview, when Woman expresses them all. First, you must reconcile your internal differences.
VOICE.
But we can’t.
COLONEL.
To begin with, you must make up your minds whether you wish to regenerate us or to degrade yourselves.
ENID.
Regenerate you, of course.
COLONEL.
Miss Vivash prefers the alternative.
ENID.
That is Victoria’s foible.
COLONEL [gallantly].
I can admit no foible in a lady.
ENID.
At any rate, we are agreed on the main point—the equality of the sexes.
COLONEL.
That, alas, is impossible.
VOICE.
Impossible?
COLONEL.
Whilst Woman persists in remaining perfect.
VICTORIA.
Cannot Man emulate her?
COLONEL.
I am afraid his strength is only equal to the confession of his unworthiness.
ENID.
You would confess that? Then you agree with me, that a woman is entitled to know the whole of a man’s past?
LADY WARGRAVE [who has joined them].
Would it not be more useful if she knew something of his future?
ENID.
Women have futures; men have only pasts.
DOCTOR [still inSylvester’sgroup].
It stands to reason—pure reason—there ought not to be one law for women and another for men.
SYLVESTER.
You mean, that they ought both to be for women?
DOCTOR.
I mean, that the institution of marriage is in urgent need of reconsideration.
SYLVESTER.
The sooner, the better.
DOCTOR.
I am glad you think so.
SYLVESTER.
When the institution of marriage is reconsidered, man will have another chance.
[Exit,R.
LADY WARGRAVE [who has joinedPercy’sgroup].
What do I think of the New Woman? There is no New Woman; she is as old as Molière.
[Stands listening, amused.
CHORUS.
Molière!
VICTORIA.
A pagan!
PERCY.
A frank pagan. For pure art we must go to Athens.
CHORUS.
Athens!
PERCY.
Or the Music Halls. Have you seen Trixy Blinko?
CHORUS.
Trixy—oh, charming—sweet!
PERCY.
In her alone I find the true Greek spirit. What were the prevailing characteristics of Hellenic culture? [A sudden silence.] Breadth and centrality, blitheness and repose. All these I find in Trixy.
CHORUS.
Little dear!
LADY WARGRAVE.
Somewhatrisquée,isn’t she?
PERCY.
To the suburban mind.
[Lady Wargravebows and turns off.
Servantenters,L.
SERVANT.
Signor Labinski has arrived, your ladyship.
[Exit,L.Lady Wargravespeaks to one or two of theGuests,and the company disperse, most of them going off,L.,but a few,C.,and others into the conservatory. During this general movement, the music off, is heard louder.Colonelis left withDr. Mary.
COLONEL.
Nonsense, my dear Doctor—— The fact’s just this. The modern woman is prostrated by the discovery of her own superiority; and she is now engaged in one of those hopeless enterprises whichwehave regretfully abandoned. She is endeavouring to understandherself.I offer her my respectful sympathy.
[Bows and sits,C.
DOCTOR [sits by him].
The truth amounts to this: the one mitigating circumstance about the existence of Man is, that he occasionally co-operates in the creation of a Woman.
COLONEL.
His proudest privilege! The mystery to me is, that you ladies haven’t found it out before.
Re-enterEnid,C.
DOCTOR.
Yes, but you shirk the question!
[Colonelis fanning himself, helplessly.
ENID [aside].
A man in distress! I must help him! [Advancing sweetly.] What were you saying, Doctor?
[Sits on the other side ofColonel.
COLONEL [aside].
Bethune! the best of ’em!
DOCTOR.
You know, from your own experience, that marriage is not a necessity.
COLONEL.
No, it’s a luxury—an expensive luxury.
ENID.
Oh, surely that depends upon the wife.
DOCTOR.
It is she who has to associate with him.
ENID.
And considering what his past has been——
COLONEL.
Suppose it hasn’t!
DOCTOR.
But it always has!
ENID.
I should be sorry to think that.
DOCTOR.
Take the Colonel’s own case.
COLONEL [alarmed].
Doctor!
DOCTOR.
Do you deny that you have had a past?
COLONEL.
Oh, a few trifling peccadilloes!
ENID.
Then you must never marry.
COLONEL.
Am I to have no chance of reformation?
ENID.
It is your own fault.
DOCTOR.
Entirely.
COLONEL.
One moment, my dear ladies! Excuse me pointing out, that, in the last resort, there must always be a female accomplice!
ENID.
Poor, tempted creature!
COLONEL.
Temptedby aman!
DOCTOR.
We all have our weak moments.
[Sighs.
ENID.
All of us!
[Sighs. As the pair sit with their eyes cast down, silent,Colonellooks from one to the other in dismay, then steals off,R.
COLONEL [at door].
Getting dangerous!
[Exit,R.When they look up, each with a languorous glance, they find themselves languishing at one another; both rise.
ENID [putting her arm roundDoctor’swaist].
My dear, we are missing the music!
[Exeunt,L.
Re-enterMrs. SylvesterandGerald,C.Movement of otherGuestsacross stage, during music.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Where have you been? I have seen nothing of you. What have you been doing?
GERALD.
Thinking.
MRS. SYLVESTER [jealously].
Of whom?
GERALD.
Of Margery.
[Movement ofMrs. Sylvester.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Has she said anything?
GERALD.
No, not a word.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Of course, she heard?
GERALD.
What did I say? What did I do? What must she think of me? I can’t bear this suspense. For the last fortnight, she’s been another woman. So grave—so thoughtful—so unlike herself. There is no laugh to grate upon me now. What would I give to bring it back again?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Is it she only who has changed?
GERALD.
Ever since I saw that figure on the ground, I can see nothing else. And it is I who brought it to the dust—I, who had sworn to cherish it. Yes, you are right; I too am different; I see things from a different point of view. And when I think of Margery’s young life, so full of hope and joy—Margery, who never asked to be my wife—Margery, whom I compelled to marry me—with all the joy crushed out of her—I feel too much ashamed even to ask forgiveness. And as I watch her move about the house—silent and sorrowful—I ask myself, how much did Margery give up for me? I took her from the station of life in which she was born, and in which she was happy. I set her in another and a strange one. Was mine the only sacrifice? How much of friendship and of old association did she resign for my sake? My life continued as it was before—I had my old friends and my old pursuits. What had she? Nothing—but my love. And I took it away fromher. Because she made a few mistakes, and a few people laughed—a few more didn’t call—and I mistook a light heart for an empty head. What do all these things matter? what is a man worth who sets such things above a love like hers?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
This is pure pity, Gerald.
GERALD.
Pity for myself.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
She was no wife for you. She could be no companion.
GERALD.
If she was no companion, did I make her one?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Need you tellmeall this?
GERALD.
Yes, Mrs. Sylvester, it’s best I should. I came to tell it you.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Not Agnes now!
GERALD.
Forget my folly, and forget your own.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Mine was no folly. I, at least, was sincere; the love that isn’t based on sympathy is a mere passion.
GERALD.
And the love that has no passion in it, isn’t worth the name!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
That’s your idea?
GERALD.
And what is yours? Let us be frank.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Oh, frankness, by all means.
GERALD.
Forgive me; but we’re face to face with truth. Don’t let us flinch from it. We have both made the same mistake—not in our marriages, but in despising them. What we want in a partner is what we lack in ourselves.Not sympathy only, but sex. Strength requires gentleness, sweetness asks for light; and all that is womanly in woman wants all that is manly in man. You think your husband is no mate for you. What I have missed in Margery, have you not missed in him?
MRS. SYLVESTER [after a pause].
I understand you. It is over.
GERALD.
It is for you to say. We have gone too far together for either of us to turn back alone. I have not only made my own hearth desolate, but yours. I owe you all the reparation I can make. I only want you to know the truth. What is left of my life you may command, but my heart is not mine to bestow.
MRS. SYLVESTER [turns up, to hide her emotion, and tries to go into the room,L.,but half-way she falters and puts out her hand].
Gerald!
[He goes to her and offers her his arm. ExeuntGeraldandMrs. Sylvester,L.OtherGuestscross the stage. EnterMargery,C.Finding herself oppositeLady Wargrave’schair, takes a long look at it, then moves the cushion, and gradually gets into her old position behind it. Music heard off, softly, during this passage.
MARGERY.
Yes, this is how it ought to be. It looks a different world altogether—the real world—the world, when Gerald loved me!
[Comes down and sits, in a reverie.
Re-enterSylvester,R.
SYLVESTER.
Alone, Mrs. Cazenove? It isn’t often that I find you alone. I’ve seen nothing of you lately. You’ve always been out when I’ve called.
MARGERY.
I was in once.
SYLVESTER.
Only once.
MARGERY.
It was enough.
SYLVESTER.
You are cruel.
MARGERY.
Are you looking for your wife?
SYLVESTER [laughs].
Agnes and I go very different ways.
MARGERY.
I think you’re going the same way, both of you.
SYLVESTER [still laughing].
But in opposite directions. Mrs. Cazenove, you’re quite a philosopher. Why have you grown so serious all at once?
MARGERY.
I’m older than I was.
SYLVESTER.
Only a fortnight since you were all vivacity.
MARGERY.