And are not afraid with any amazement. —Marriage Service.
SCENE. bachelor's bedroom-toilet-table arranged with unnatural neatness.
CAPTAIN GADSBY asleep and snoring heavily. Time, 10:30 A. M.—a glorious autumn day at Simla. Enter delicately Captain MAFFLIN of GADSBY's regiment. Looks at sleeper, and shakes his head murmuring “Poor Gaddy.” Performs violent fantasia with hair-brushes on chairback.
Capt. M. Wake up, my sleeping beauty! (Roars.)
“Uprouse ye, then, my merry merry men!It is our opening day!It is our opening da-ay!”
Gaddy, the little dicky-birds have been billing and cooing for ever so long; and I'm here!
Capt. G. (Sitting up and yawning.) Mornin'. This is awf'ly good of you, old fellow. Most awf'ly good of you. Don't know what I should do without you. 'Pon my soul, I don't. 'Haven't slept a wink all night.
Capt. M. I didn't get in till half-past eleven. 'Had a look at you then, and you seemed to be sleeping as soundly as a condemned criminal.
Capt. G. Jack, if you want to make those disgustingly worn-out jokes, you'd better go away. (With portentous gravity.) It's the happiest day in my life.
Capt. M. (Chuckling grimly.) Not by a very long chalk, my son. You're going through some of the most refined torture you've ever known. But be calm. I am with you. 'Shun! Dress!
Capt. G. Eh! Wha-at?
Capt. M. Do you suppose that you are your own master for the next twelve hours? If you do, of course—(Makes for the door.)
Capt. G. No! For Goodness' sake, old man, don't do that! You'll see me through, won't you? I've been mugging up that beastly drill, and can't remember a line of it.
Capt. M. (Overturning G.'s uniform.) Go and tub. Don't bother me. I'll give you ten minutes to dress in.
INTERVAL, filled by the noise as of one splashing in the bath-room..
Capt. G. (Emerging from dressing-room.) What time is it?
Capt. M. Nearly eleven.
Capt. G. Five hours more. O Lord!
Capt. M. (Aside.) 'First sign of funk, that. 'Wonder if it's going to spread. (Aloud.) Come along to breakfast.
Capt. G. I can't eat anything. I don't want any breakfast.
Capt. M. (Aside.) So early! (Aloud) CAPTAIN Gadsby, I order you to eat breakfast, and a dashed good breakfast, too. None of your bridal airs and graces with me!
Leads G. downstairs and stands over him while he eats two chops.
Capt. G. (Who has looked at his watch thrice in the last five minutes.) What time is it?
Capt. M. Time to come for a walk. Light up.
Capt. G. I haven't smoked for ten days, and I won't now. (Takes cheroot which M. has cut for him, and blows smoke through his nose luxuriously.) We aren't going down the Mall, are we?
Capt. M. (Aside.) They're all alike in these stages. (Aloud.) No, my Vestal. We're going along the quietest road we can find.
Capt. G. Any chance of seeing Her?
Capt. M. Innocent! No! Come along, and, if you want me for the final obsequies, don't cut my eye out with your stick.
Capt. G. (Spinning round.) I say, isn't She the dearest creature that ever walked? What's the time? What comes after “wilt thou take this woman”?
Capt. M. You go for the ring. R'c'lect it'll be on the top of my right-hand little finger, and just be careful how you draw it off, because I shall have the Verger's fees somewhere in my glove.
Capt. G. (Walking forward hastily.) D—the Verger! Come along! It's past twelve and I haven't seen Her since yesterday evening. (Spinning round again.) She's an absolute angel, Jack, and She's a dashed deal too good for me. Look here, does She come up the aisle on my arm, or how?
Capt. M. If I thought that there was the least chance of your remembering anything for two consecutive minutes, I'd tell you. Stop passaging about like that!
Capt. G. (Halting in the middle of the road.) I say, Jack.
Capt. M. Keep quiet for another ten minutes if you can, you lunatic; and walk!
The two tramp at five miles an hour for fifteen minutes.
Capt. G. What's the time? How about the cursed wedding-cake and the slippers? They don't throw 'em about in church, do they?
Capt. M. Invariably. The Padre leads off with his boots.
Capt. G. Confound your silly soul! Don't make fun of me. I can't stand it, and I won't!
Capt. M. (Untroubled.) So-ooo, old horse You'll have to sleep for a couple of hours this afternoon.
Capt. G. (Spinning round.) I'm not going to be treated like a dashed child, understand that.
Capt. M. (Aside.) Nerves gone to fiddle-strings. What a day we're having! (Tenderly putting his hand on G.'s shoulder.) My David, how long have you known this Jonathan? Would I come up here to make a fool of you—after all these years?
Capt. G. (Penitently.) I know, I know, Jack—but I'm as upset as I can be. Don't mind what I say. Just hear me run through the drill and see if I've got it all right:—“To have and to hold for better or worse, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, so help me God. Amen.”
Capt. M. (Suffocating with suppressed laughter.) Yes. That's about the gist of it. I'll prompt if you get into a hat.
Capt. G. (Earnestly.) Yes, you'll stick by me, Jack, won't you? I'm awfully happy, but I don't mind telling you that I'm in a blue funk!
Capt. M. (Gravely.) Are you? I should never have noticed it. You don't look like it.
Capt. G. Don't I? That's all right. (Spinning round.) On my soul and honor, Jack, She's the sweetest little angel that ever came down from the sky. There isn't a woman on earth fit to speak to Her.
Capt. M. (Aside.) And this is old Gadsby! (Aloud.) Go on if it relieves you.
Capt. G. You can laugh! That's all you wild asses of bachelors are fit for.
Capt. M. (Drawling.) You never would wait for the troop to come up. You aren't quite married yet, y'know.
Capt. G. Ugh! That reminds me. I don't believe I shall be able to get into any boots Let's go home and try 'em on (Hurries forward.)
Capt. M. 'Wouldn't be in your shoes for anything that Asia has to offer.
Capt. G. (Spinning round.) That just shows your hideous blackness of soul—your dense stupidity—your brutal narrow-mindedness. There's only one fault about you. You're the best of good fellows, and I don't know what I should have done without you, but—you aren't married. (Wags his head gravely.) Take a wife, Jack.
Capt. M. (With a face like a wall.) Ya-as. Whose for choice?
Capt. G. If you're going to be a blackguard, I'm going on—What's the time?
Capt. M. (Hums.) An' since 'twas very clear we drank only ginger-beer, Faith, there must ha' been some stingo in the ginger. Come back, you maniac. I'm going to take you home, and you're going to lie down.
Capt. G. What on earth do I want to lie down for?
Capt. M. Give me a light from your cheroot and see.
Capt. G. (Watching cheroot-butt quiver like a tuning-fork.) Sweet state I'm in!
Capt. M. You are. I'll get you a peg and you'll go to sleep.
They return and M. compounds a four-finger peg.
Capt. G. O bus! bus! It'll make me as drunk as an owl.
Capt. M. 'Curious thing, 'twon't have the slightest effect on you. Drink it off, chuck yourself down there, and go to bye-bye.
Capt. G. It's absurd. I sha'n't sleep, I know I sha'n't!
Falls into heavy doze at end of seven minutes. Capt. M. watches him tenderly.
Capt. M. Poor old Gadsby! I've seen a few turned off before, but never one who went to the gallows in this condition. 'Can't tell how it affects 'em, though. It's the thoroughbreds that sweat when they're backed into double-harness.—And that's the man who went through the guns at Amdheran like a devil possessed of devils. (Leans over G.) But this is worse than the guns, old pal—worse than the guns, isn't it? (G. turns in his sleep, and M. touches him clumsily on the forehead.) Poor, dear old Gaddy! Going like the rest of 'em—going like the rest of 'em—Friend that sticketh closer than a brother—eight years. Dashed bit of a slip of a girl—eight weeks! And—where's your friend? (Smokes disconsolately till church clock strikes three.)
Capt. M. Up with you! Get into your kit.
Capt. C. Already? Isn't it too soon? Hadn't I better have a shave?
Capt. M. No! You're all right. (Aside.) He'd chip his chin to pieces.
Capt. C. What's the hurry?
Capt. M. You've got to be there first.
Capt. C. To be stared at?
Capt. M. Exactly. You're part of the show. Where's the burnisher? Your spurs are in a shameful state.
Capt. G. (Gruffly.) Jack, I be damned if you shall do that for me.
Capt. M. (More gruffly.) Dry up and get dressed! If I choose to clean your spurs, you're under my orders.
Capt. G. dresses. M. follows suit.
Capt. M. (Critically, walking round.) M'—yes, you'll do. Only don't look so like a criminal. Ring, gloves, fees—that's all right for me. Let your moustache alone. Now, if the ponies are ready, we'll go.
Capt. G. (Nervously.) It's much too soon. Let's light up! Let's have a peg! Let's—
Capt. M. Let's make bally asses of ourselves!
BELLS. (Without.)—“Good-peo-ple-all To prayers-we call.”
Capt. M. There go the bells! Come on—unless you'd rather not. (They ride off.)
BELLS.—“We honor the King And Brides joy do bring—Good tidings we tell, And ring the Dead's knell.”
Capt. G. (Dismounting at the door of the Church.) I say, aren't we much too soon? There are no end of people inside. I say, aren't we much too late? Stick by me, Jack! What the devil do I do?
Capt. M. Strike an attitude at the head of the aisle and wait for Her. (G. groans as M. wheels him into position before three hundred eyes.)
Capt. M. (Imploringly.) Gaddy, if you love me, for pity's sake, for the Honor of the Regiment, stand up! Chuck yourself into your uniform! Look like a man! I've got to speak to the Padre a minute. (G. breaks into a gentle Perspiration.) If you wipe your face I'll never be your best man again. Stand up! (G. trembles visibly.)
Capt. M. (Returning.) She's coming now. Look out when the music starts. There's the organ beginning to clack.
Bride steps out of 'rickshaw at Church door. G. catches a glimpse of her and takes heart.
ORGAN.—“The Voice that breathed o'er Eden, That earliest marriage day, The primal marriage-blessing, It hath not passed away.”
Capt. M. (Watching G.) By Jove! He is looking well. 'Didn't think he had it in him.
Capt. G. How long does this hymn go on for?
Capt. M. It will be over directly. (Anxiously.) (Beginning to bleach and gulp.) Hold on, Gabby, and think 'o the Regiment.
Capt. G. (Measuredly.) I say, there's a big brown lizard crawling up that wall.
Capt. M. My Sainted Mother! The last stage of collapse!
Bride comes up to left of altar, lifts her eyes once to G., who is suddenly smitten mad.
Capt. G. (To himself again and again.) Little Featherweight's a woman—a woman! And I thought she was a little girl.
Capt. M. (In a whisper.) Form the halt—inward wheel.
Capt. G. obeys mechanically and the ceremony proceeds.
PADRE.... only unto her as ye both shall live?
Capt. G. (His throat useless.) Ha-hmmm!
Capt. M. Say you will or you won't. There's no second deal here.
Bride gives response with perfect coolness, and is given away by the father.
Capt. G. (Thinking to show his learning.) Jack give me away now, quick!
Capt. M. You've given yourself away quite enough. Her right hand, man! Repeat! Repeat! “Theodore Philip.” Have you forgotten your own name?
Capt. G. stumbles through Affirmation, which Bride repeats without a tremor.
Capt. M. Now the ring! Follow the Padre! Don't pull off my glove! Here it is! Great Cupid, he's found his voice.
Capt. G. repeats Troth in a voice to be heard to the end of the Church and turns on his heel.
Capt. M. (Desperately.) Rein back! Back to your troop! 'Tisn't half legal yet.
PADRE.... joined together let no man put asunder.
Capt. G. paralyzed with fear jibs after Blessing.
Capt. M. (Quickly.) On your own front—one length. Take her with you. I don't come. You've nothing to say. (Capt. G. jingles up to altar.)
Capt. M. (In a piercing rattle meant to be a whisper.) Kneel, you stiff-necked ruffian! Kneel!
PADRE... whose daughters are ye so long as ye do well and are not afraid with any amazement.
Capt. M. Dismiss! Break off! Left wheel!
All troop to vestry. They sign.
Capt. M. Kiss Her, Gaddy.
Capt. G. (Rubbing the ink into his glove.) Eh! Wha-at?
Capt. M. (Taking one pace to Bride.) If you don't, I shall.
Capt. G. (Interposing an arm.) Not this journey!
General kissing, in which Capt. G. is pursued by unknown female.
Capt. G. (Faintly to M.) This is Hades! Can I wipe my face now?
Capt. M. My responsibility has ended. Better ask Misses GADSBY.
Capt. G. winces as though shot and procession is Mendelssohned out of Church to house, where usual tortures take place over the wedding-cake.
Capt. M. (At table.) Up with you, Gaddy. They expect a speech.
Capt. G. (After three minutes' agony.) Ha-hmmm. (Thunders Of applause.)
Capt. M. Doocid good, for a first attempt. Now go and change your kit while Mamma is weeping over “the Missus.” (Capt. G. disappears. Capt. M. starts up tearing his hair.) It's not half legal. Where are the shoes? Get an ayah.
AYAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone band karo all the jutis.
Capt. M. (Brandishing scab larded sword.) Woman, produce those shoes! Some one lend me a bread-knife. We mustn't crack Gaddy's head more than it is. (Slices heel off white satin slipper and puts slipper up his sleeve.)
Where is the Bride? (To the company at large.) Be tender with that rice. It's a heathen custom. Give me the big bag.
Bride slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs toward the sunset.
Capt. M. (In the open.) Stole away, by Jove! So much the worse for Gaddy! Here he is. Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than Amdberan! Where's your horse?
Capt. G. (Furiously, seeing that the women are out of an earshot.) Where the d——'s my Wife?
Capt. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You'll have to ride like Young Lochinvar.
Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him.
Capt. G. Oh you will, will you? Get 'round, you brute—you hog—you beast! Get round!
Wrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lower jaw: swings himself into saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a spattering gale of Best Patna.
Capt. M. For your life and your love—ride, Gaddy—And God bless you!
Throws half a pound of rice at G. who disappears, bowed forward on the saddle, in a cloud of sunlit dust.
Capt. M. I've lost old Gaddy. (Lights cigarette and strolls off, singing absently):—“You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on his card, That a young man married is a young man marred!”
Miss DEERCOURT. (From her horse.) Really, Captain Mafflin! You are more plain spoken than polite!
Capt. M. (Aside.) They say marriage is like cholera. 'Wonder who'll be the next victim.
White satin slipper slides from his sleeve and falls at his feet. Left wondering.
And ye shall be as—Gods!
SCENE. Thymy grass-plot at back of the Mahasu dak-bungalow, overlooking little wooded valley. On the left, glimpse of the Dead Forest of Fagoo; on the right, Simla Hills. In background, line of the Snows. CAPTAIN GADSBY, now three weeks a husband, is smoking the pipe of peace on a rug in the sunshine. Banjo and tobacco-pouch on rug. Overhead the Fagoo eagles. Mrs. G. comes out of bungalow.
Mrs. G. My husband!
Capt. G. (Lazily, with intense enjoyment.) Eh, wha-at? Say that again.
Mrs. G. I've written to Mamma and told her that we shall be back on the 17th.
Capt. G. Did you give her my love?
Mrs. G. No, I kept all that for myself. (Sitting down by his side.) I thought you wouldn't mind.
Capt. G. (With mock sternness.) I object awf'ly. How did you know that it was yours to keep?
Mrs. G. I guessed, Phil.
Capt. G. (Rapturously.) Lit-tle Featherweight!
Mrs. G. I won' t be called those sporting pet names, bad boy.
Capt. G. You'll be called anything I choose. Has it ever occurred to you, Madam, that you are my Wife?
Mrs. G. It has. I haven't ceased wondering at it yet.
Capt. G. Nor I. It seems so strange; and yet, somehow, it doesn't. (Confidently.) You see, it could have been no one else.
Mrs. G. (Softly.) No. No one else—for me or for you. It must have been all arranged from the beginning. Phil, tell me again what made you care for me.
Capt. G. How could I help it? You were you, you know.
Mrs. G. Did you ever want to help it? Speak the truth!
Capt. G. (A twinkle in his eye.) I did, darling, just at the first. Rut only at the very first. (Chuckles.) I called you—stoop low and I'll whisper—“a little beast.” Ho! Ho! Ho!
Mrs. G. (Taking him by the moustache and making him sit up.) “A-little-beast!” Stop laughing over your crime! And yet you had the—the—awful cheek to propose to me!
Capt. C. I'd changed my mind then. And you weren't a little beast any more.
Mrs. G. Thank you, sir! And when was I ever?
Capt. G. Never! But that first day, when you gave me tea in that peach-colored muslin gown thing, you looked—you did indeed, dear—such an absurd little mite. And I didn't know what to say to you.
Mrs. G. (Twisting moustache.) So you said “little beast.” Upon my word, Sir! I called you a “Crrrreature,” but I wish now I had called you something worse.
Capt. G. (Very meekly.) I apologize, but you're hurting me awf'ly. (Interlude.) You're welcome to torture me again on those terms.
Mrs. G. Oh, why did you let me do it?
Capt. G. (Looking across valley.) No reason in particular, but—if it amused you or did you any good—you might—wipe those dear little boots of yours on me.
Mrs. G. (Stretching out her hands.) Don't! Oh, don't! Philip, my King, please don't talk like that. It's how I feel. You're so much too good for me. So much too good!
Capt. G. Me! I'm not fit to put my arm around you. (Puts it round.)
Mrs. C. Yes, you are. But I—what have I ever done?
Capt. G. Given me a wee bit of your heart, haven't you, my Queen!
Mrs. G. That's nothing. Any one would do that. They cou—couldn'thelp it.
Capt. G. Pussy, you'll make me horribly conceited. Just when I was beginning to feel so humble, too.
Mrs. G. Humble! I don't believe it's in your character.
Capt. G. What do you know of my character, Impertinence?
Mrs. G. Ah, but I shall, shan't I, Phil? I shall have time in all the years and years to come, to know everything about you; and there will be no secrets between us.
Capt. G. Little witch! I believe you know me thoroughly already.
Mrs. G. I think I can guess. You're selfish?
Capt. G. Yes.
Mrs. G. Foolish?
Capt. G. Very.
Mrs. G. And a dear?
Capt. G. That is as my lady pleases.
Mrs. G. Then your lady is pleased. (A pause.) D'you know that we're two solemn, serious, grown-up people—
Capt. G. (Tilting her straw hat over her eyes.) You grown-up! Pooh! You're a baby.
Mrs. G. And we're talking nonsense.
Capt. G. Then let's go on talking nonsense. I rather like it. Pussy, I'll tell you a secret. Promise not to repeat?
Mrs. G. Ye-es. Only to you.
Capt. G. I love you.
Mrs. G. Re-ally! For how long?
Capt. G. Forever and ever.
Mrs. G. That's a long time.
Capt. G. 'Think so? It's the shortest I can do with.
Mrs. G. You're getting quite clever.
Capt. G. I'm talking to you.
Mrs. G. Prettily turned. Hold up your stupid old head and I'll pay you for it.
Capt. G. (Affecting supreme contempt.) Take it yourself if you want it.
Mrs. G. I've a great mind to—and I will! (Takes it and is repaid with interest.)
Capt. G, Little Featherweight, it's my opinion that we are a couple of idiots.
Mrs. G. We're the only two sensible people in the world. Ask the eagle. He's coming by.
Capt. G. Ah! I dare say he's seen a good many sensible people at Mahasu. They say that those birds live for ever so long.
Mrs. G. How long?
Capt. G. A hundred and twenty years.
Mrs. G. A hundred and twenty years! O-oh! And in a hundred and twenty years where will these two sensible people be?
Capt. G. What does it matter so long as we are together now?
Mrs. G. (Looking round the horizon.) Yes. Only you and I—I and you—in the whole wide, wide world until the end. (Sees the line of the Snows.) How big and quiet the hills look! D'you think they care for us?
Capt. G. 'Can't say I've consulted 'em particularly. I care, and that's enough for me.
Mrs. G. (Drawing nearer to him.) Yes, now—but afterward. What's that little black blur on the Snows?
Capt. G. A snowstorm, forty miles away. You'll see it move, as the wind carries it across the face of that spur and then it will be all gone.
Mrs. G. And then it will be all gone. (Shivers.)
Capt. G. (Anxiously.) 'Not chilled, pet, are you? 'Better let me get your cloak.
Mrs. G. No. Don't leave me, Phil. Stay here. I believe I am afraid. Oh, why are the hills so horrid! Phil, promise me that you'll always love me.
Capt. G. What's the trouble, darling? I can't promise any more than I have; but I'll promise that again and again if you like.
Mrs. G. (Her head on his shoulder.) Say it, then—say it! N-no—don't! The—the—eagles would laugh. (Recovering.) My husband, you've married a little goose.
Capt. G. (Very tenderly.) Have I? I am content whatever she is, so long as she is mine.
Mrs. G. (Quickly.) Because she is yours or because she is me mineself?
Capt. G. Because she is both. (Piteously.) I'm not clever, dear, and I don't think I can make myself understood properly.
Mrs. G. I understand. Pip, will you tell me something?
Capt. G. Anything you like. (Aside.) I wonder what's coming now.
Mrs. G. (Haltingly, her eyes lowered.) You told me once in the old days—centuries and centuries ago—that you had been engaged before. I didn't say anything—then.
Capt. G. (Innocently.) Why not?
Mrs. G. (Raising her eyes to his.) Because—because I was afraid of losing you, my heart. But now—tell about it—please.
Capt. G. There's nothing to tell. I was awf'ly old then—nearly two and twenty—and she was quite that.
Mrs. G. That means she was older than you. I shouldn't like her to have been younger. Well?
Capt. G. Well, I fancied myself in love and raved about a bit, and—oh, yes, by Jove! I made up poetry. Ha! Ha!
Mrs. G. You never wrote any for me! What happened?
Capt. G. I came out here, and the whole thing went phut. She wrote to say that there had been a mistake, and then she married.
Mrs. G. Did she care for you much?
Capt. G. No. At least she didn't show it as far as I remember.
Mrs. G. As far as you remember! Do you remember her name? (Hears it and bows her head.) Thank you, my husband.
Capt. G. Who but you had the right? Now, Little Featherweight, have you ever been mixed up in any dark and dismal tragedy?
Mrs. G. If you call me Mrs. Gadsby, p'raps I'll tell.
Capt. G. (Throwing Parade rasp into his voice.) Mrs. Gadsby, confess!
Mrs. G. Good Heavens, Phil! I never knew that you could speak in that terrible voice.
Capt. G. You don't know half my accomplishments yet. Wait till we are settled in the Plains, and I'll show you how I bark at my troop. You were going to say, darling?
Mrs. G. I—I don't like to, after that voice. (Tremulously.) Phil, never you dare to speak to me in that tone, whatever I may do!
Capt. G. My poor little love! Why, you're shaking all over. I am so sorry. Of course I never meant to upset you Don't tell me anything, I'm a brute.
Mrs. G. No, you aren't, and I will tell—There was a man.
Capt. G. (Lightly.) Was there? Lucky man!
Mrs. G. (In a whisper.) And I thought I cared for him.
Capt. G. Still luckier man! Well?
Mrs. G. And I thought I cared for him—and I didn't—and then you came—and I cared for you very, very much indeed. That's all. (Face hidden.) You aren't angry, are you?
Capt. G. Angry? Not in the least. (Aside.) Good Lord, what have I done to deserve this angel?
Mrs. G. (Aside.) And he never asked for the name! How funny men are! But perhaps it's as well.
Capt. G. That man will go to heaven because you once thought you cared for him. 'Wonder if you'll ever drag me up there?
Mrs. G. (Firmly.) 'Sha'n't go if you don't.
Capt. G. Thanks. I say, Pussy, I don't know much about your religious beliefs. You were brought up to believe in a heaven and all that, weren't you?
Mrs. G. Yes. But it was a pincushion heaven, with hymn-books in all the pews.
Capt. G. (Wagging his head with intense conviction.) Never mind. There is a pukka heaven.
Mrs. G. Where do you bring that message from, my prophet?
Capt. G. Here! Because we care for each other. So it's all right.
Mrs. G. (As a troop of langurs crash through the branches.) So it's all right. But Darwin says that we came from those!
Capt. G. (Placidly.) Ah! Darwin was never in love with an angel. That settles it. Sstt, you brutes! Monkeys, indeed! You shouldn't read those books.
Mrs. G. (Folding her hands.) If it pleases my Lord the King to issue proclamation.
Capt. G. Don't, dear one. There are no orders between us. Only I'd rather you didn't. They lead to nothing, and bother people's heads.
Mrs. G. Like your first engagement.
Capt. G. (With an immense calm.) That was a necessary evil and led to you. Are you nothing?
Mrs. G. Not so very much, am I?
Capt. G. All this world and the next to me.
Mrs. G. (Very softly.) My boy of boys! Shall I tell you something?
Capt. G. Yes, if it's not dreadful—about other men.
Mrs. G. It's about my own bad little self.
Capt. G. Then it must be good. Go on, dear.
Mrs. G. (Slowly.) I don't know why I'm telling you, Pip; but if ever you marry again—(Interlude.) Take your hand from my mouth or I'll bite! In the future, then remember—I don't know quite how to put it!
Capt. G. (Snorting indignantly.) Don't try. “Marry again,” indeed!
Mrs. G. I must. Listen, my husband. Never, never, never tell your wife anything that you do not wish her to remember and think over all her life. Because a woman—yes, I am a woman—can't forget.
Capt. G. By Jove, how do you know that?
Mrs. G. (Confusedly.) I don't. I'm only guessing. I am—I was—a silly little girl; but I feel that I know so much, oh, so very much more than you, dearest. To begin with, I'm your wife.
Capt. G. So I have been led to believe.
Mrs. G. And I shall want to know every one of your secrets—to share everything you know with you. (Stares round desperately.)
Capt. G. So you shall, dear, so you shall—but don't look like that.
Mrs. G. For your own sake don't stop me, Phil. I shall never talk to you in this way again. You must not tell me! At least, not now. Later on, when I'm an old matron it won't matter, but if you love me, be very good to me now; for this part of my life I shall never forget! Have I made you understand?
Capt. G. I think so, child. Have I said anything yet that you disapprove of?
Mrs. G. Will you be very angry? That—that voice, and what you said about the engagement—
Capt. G. But you asked to be told that, darling.
Mrs. G. And that's why you shouldn't have told me! You must be the Judge, and, oh, Pip, dearly as I love you, I shan't be able to help you! I shall hinder you, and you must judge in spite of me!
Capt. G. (Meditatively.) We have a great many things to find out together, God help us both—say so, Pussy—but we shall understand each other better every day; and I think I'm beginning to see now. How in the world did you come to know just the importance of giving me just that lead?
Mrs. G. I've told you that I don't know. Only somehow it seemed that, in all this new life, I was being guided for your sake as well as my own.
Capt. G. (Aside.) Then Mafflin was right! They know, and we—we're blind all of us. (Lightly.) 'Getting a little beyond our depth, dear, aren't we? I'll remember, and, if I fail, let me be punished as I deserve.
Mrs. G. There shall be no punishment. We'll start into life together from here—you and I—and no one else.
Capt. G. And no one else. (A pause.) Your eyelashes are all wet, Sweet? Was there ever such a quaint little Absurdity?
Mrs. G. Was there ever such nonsense talked before?
Capt. G. (Knocking the ashes out of his pipe.) 'Tisn't what we say, it's what we don't say, that helps. And it's all the profoundest philosophy. But no one would understand—even if it were put into a book.
Mrs. G. The idea! No—only we ourselves, or people like ourselves—if there are any people like us.
Capt. G. (Magisterially.) All people, not like ourselves, are blind idiots.
Mrs. G. (Wiping her eyes.) Do you think, then, that there are any people as happy as we are?
Capt. G. 'Must be—unless we've appropriated all the happiness in the world.
Mrs. G. (Looking toward Simla.) Poor dears! Just fancy if we have!
Capt. G. Then we'll hang on to the whole show, for it's a great deal too jolly to lose—eh, wife 'o mine?
Mrs. G. O Pip! Pip! How much of you is a solemn, married man and how much a horrid slangy schoolboy?
Capt. G. When you tell me how much of you was eighteen last birthday and how much is as old as the Sphinx and twice as mysterious, perhaps I'll attend to you. Lend me that banjo. The spirit moveth me to yowl at the sunset.
Mrs. G. Mind! It's not tuned. Ah! How that jars!
Capt. G. (Turning pegs.) It's amazingly different to keep a banjo to proper pitch.
Mrs. G. It's the same with all musical instruments, What shall it be?
Capt. G. “Vanity,” and let the hills hear. (Sings through the first and half of the second verse. Turning to Mrs. G.) Now, chorus! Sing, Pussy!
BOTH TOGETHER. (Con brio, to the horror of the monkeys who are settling for the night.)—
“Vanity, all is Vanity,” said Wisdom, scorning me—I clasped my true Love's tender hand and answered frank and free-ee “If this be Vanity who'd be wise? If this be Vanity who'd be wise? If this be Vanity who'd be wi-ise (Crescendo.) Vanity let it be!”
Mrs. G. (Defiantly to the grey of the evening sky.) “Vanity let it be!”
ECHO. (Prom the Fagoo spur.) Let it be!
And you may go in every room of the house and see everything that is there, but into the Blue Room you must not go. —The Story of Blue Beard.
SCENE. The GADSBYS' bungalow in the Plains. Time, 11 A. M. on a Sunday morning. Captain GADSBY, in his shirt-sleeves, is bending over a complete set of Hussar's equipment, from saddle to picketing-rope, which is neatly spread over the floor of his study. He is smoking an unclean briar, and his forehead is puckered with thought.
Capt. G. (To himself, fingering a headstall.) Jack's an ass. There's enough brass on this to load a mule—and, if the Americans know anything about anything, it can be cut down to a bit only. 'Don't want the watering-bridle, either. Humbug!—Half a dozen sets of chains and pulleys for one horse! Rot! (Scratching his head.) Now, let's consider it all over from the beginning. By Jove, I've forgotten the scale of weights! Never mind. 'Keep the bit only, and eliminate every boss from the crupper to breastplate. No breastplate at all. Simple leather strap across the breast—like the Russians. Hi! Jack never thought of that!
Mrs. G. (Entering hastily, her hand bound in a cloth.) Oh, Pip, I've scalded my hand over that horrid, horrid Tiparee jam!
Capt. G. (Absently.) Eh! Wha-at?
Mrs. G. (With round-eyed reproach.) I've scalded it aw-fully! Aren't you sorry? And I did so want that jam to jam properly.
Capt. G. Poor little woman! Let me kiss the place and make it well. (Unrolling bandage.) You small sinner! Where's that scald? I can't see it.
Mrs. G. On the top of the little finger. There!—It's a most 'normous big burn!
Capt. G. (Kissing little finger.) Baby! Let Hyder look after the jam. You know I don't care for sweets.
Mrs. G. Indeed?—Pip!
Capt. G. Not of that kind, anyhow. And now run along, Minnie, and leave me to my own base devices. I'm busy.
Mrs. G. (Calmly settling herself in long chair.) So I see. What a mess you're making! Why have you brought all that smelly leather stuff into the house?
Capt. G. To play with. Do you mind, dear?
Mrs. G. Let me play too. I'd like it.
Capt. G. I'm afraid you wouldn't. Pussy—Don't you think that jam will burn, or whatever it is that jam does when it's not looked after by a clever little housekeeper?
Mrs. G. I thought you said Hyder could attend to it. I left him in the veranda, stirring—when I hurt myself so.
Capt. G. (His eye returning to the equipment.) Po-oor little woman!—Three pounds four and seven is three eleven, and that can be cut down to two eight, with just a lee-tle care, without weakening anything. Farriery is all rot in incompetent hands. What's the use of a shoe-case when a man's scouting? He can't stick it on with a lick—like a stamp—the shoe! Skittles—
Mrs. G. What's skittles? Pah! What is this leather cleaned with?
Capt. G. Cream and champagne and—Look here, dear, do you really want to talk to me about anything important?
Mrs. G. No. I've done my accounts, and I thought I'd like to see what you're doing.
Capt. G. Well, love, now you've seen and—Would you mind?—That is to say—Minnie, I really am busy.
Mrs. G. You want me to go?
Capt. G, Yes, dear, for a little while. This tobacco will hang in your dress, and saddlery doesn't interest you.
Mrs. G. Everything you do interests me, Pip.
Capt. G. Yes, I know, I know, dear. I'll tell you all about it some day when I've put a head on this thing. In the meantime—
Mrs. G. I'm to be turned out of the room like a troublesome child?
Capt. G. No-o. I don't mean that exactly. But, you see, I shall be tramping up and down, shifting these things to and fro, and I shall be in your way. Don't you think so?
Mrs. G. Can't I lift them about? Let me try. (Reaches forward to trooper's saddle.)
Capt. G. Good gracious, child, don't touch it. You'll hurt yourself. (Picking up saddle.) Little girls aren't expected to handle numdahs. Now, where would you like it put? (Holds saddle above his head.)
Mrs. G. (A break in her voice.) Nowhere. Pip, how good you are—and how strong! Oh, what's that ugly red streak inside your arm?
Capt. G. (Lowering saddle quickly.) Nothing. It's a mark of sorts. (Aside.) And Jack's coming to tiffin with his notions all cut and dried!
Mrs. G. I know it's a mark, but I've never seen it before. It runs all up the arm. What is it?
Capt. G. A cut—if you want to know.
Mrs. G. Want to know! Of course I do! I can't have my husband cut to pieces in this way. How did it come? Was it an accident? Tell me, Pip.
Capt. G. (Grimly.) No. 'Twasn't an accident. I got it—from a man—in Afghanistan.
Mrs. G. In action? Oh, Pip, and you never told me!
Capt. G. I'd forgotten all about it.
Mrs. G. Hold up your arm! What a horrid, ugly scar! Are you sure it doesn't hurt now! How did the man give it you?
Capt. G. (Desperately looking at his watch.) With a knife. I came down—old Van Loo did, that's to say—and fell on my leg, so I couldn't run. And then this man came up and began chopping at me as I sprawled.
Mrs. G. Oh, don't, don't! That's enough!—Well, what happened?
Capt. G. I couldn't get to my holster, and Mafflin came round the corner and stopped the performance.
Mrs. G. How? He's such a lazy man, I don't believe he did.
Capt. G. Don't you? I don't think the man had much doubt about it. Jack cut his head off.
Mrs. G. Cut-his-head-off! “With one blow,” as they say in the books?
Capt. G. I'm not sure. I was too interested in myself to know much about it. Anyhow, the head was off, and Jack was punching old Van Loo in the ribs to make him get up. Now you know all about it, dear, and now—
Mrs. G. You want me to go, of course. You never told me about this, though I've been married to you for ever so long; and you never would have told me if I hadn't found out; and you never do tell me anything about yourself, or what you do, or what you take an interest in.
Capt. G. Darling, I'm always with you, aren't I?
Mrs. G. Always in my pocket, you were going to say. I know you are; but you are always thinking away from me.
Capt. G. (Trying to hide a smile.) Am I? I wasn't aware of it. I'm awf'ly sorry.
Mrs. G. (Piteously.) Oh, don't make fun of me! Pip, you know what I mean. When you are reading one of those things about Cavalry, by that idiotic Prince—why doesn't he be a Prince instead of a stable-boy?
Capt. G. Prince Kraft a stable-boy—Oh, my Aunt! Never mind, dear. You were going to say?
Mrs. G. It doesn't matter; you don't care for what I say. Only—only you get up and walk about the room, staring in front of you, and then Mafflin comes in to dinner, and after I'm in the drawing-room I can hear you and him talking, and talking, and talking, about things I can't understand, and—oh, I get so tired and feel so lonely!—I don't want to complain and be a trouble, Pip; but I do indeed I do!
Capt. G. My poor darling! I never thought of that. Why don't you ask some nice people in to dinner?
Mrs. G. Nice people! Where am I to find them? Horrid frumps! And if I did, I shouldn't be amused. You know I only want you.
Capt. G. And you have me surely, Sweetheart?
Mrs. G. I have not! Pip why don't you take me into your life?
Capt. G. More than I do? That would be difficult, dear.
Mrs. G. Yes, I suppose it would—to you. I'm no help to you—no companion to you; and you like to have it so.
Capt. G. Aren't you a little unreasonable, Pussy?
Mrs. G. (Stamping her foot.) I'm the most reasonable woman in the world—when I'm treated properly.
Capt. G. And since when have I been treating you improperly?
Mrs. G. Always—and since the beginning. You know you have.
Capt. G. I don't; but I'm willing to be convinced.
Mrs. G. (Pointing to saddlery.) There!
Capt. G. How do you mean?
Mrs. G. What does all that mean? Why am I not to be told? Is it so precious?
Capt. G. I forget its exact Government value just at present. It means that it is a great deal too heavy.
Mrs. G. Then why do you touch it?
Capt. G. To make it lighter. See here, little love, I've one notion and Jack has another, but we are both agreed that all this equipment is about thirty pounds too heavy. The thing is how to cut it down without weakening any part of it, and, at the same time, allowing the trooper to carry everything he wants for his own comfort—socks and shirts and things of that kind.
Mrs. G. Why doesn't he pack them in a little trunk?
Capt. G. (Kissing her.) Oh, you darling! Pack them in a little trunk, indeed! Hussars don't carry trunks, and it's a most important thing to make the horse do all the carrying.
Mrs. G. But why need you bother about it? You're not a trooper.
Capt. G. No; but I command a few score of him; and equipment is nearly everything in these days.
Mrs. G. More than me?
Capt. G. Stupid! Of course not; but it's a matter that I'm tremendously interested in, because if I or Jack, or I and Jack, work out some sort of lighter saddlery and all that, it's possible that we may get it adopted.
Mrs. G. How?
Capt. G. Sanctioned at Home, where they will make a sealed pattern—a pattern that all the saddlers must copy—and so it will be used by all the regiments.
Mrs. G. And that interests you?
Capt. G. It's part of my profession, y'know, and my profession is a good deal to me. Everything in a soldier's equipment is important, and if we can improve that equipment, so much the better for the soldiers and for us.
Mrs. G. Who's “us”?
Capt. G. Jack and I; only Jack's notions are too radical. What's that big sigh for, Minnie?
Mrs. G. Oh, nothing—and you've kept all this a secret from me! Why?
Capt. G. Not a secret, exactly, dear. I didn't say anything about it to you because I didn't think it would amuse you.
Mrs. G. And am I only made to be amused?
Capt. G. No, of course. I merely mean that it couldn't interest you.
Mrs. G. It's your work and—and if you'd let me, I'd count all these things up. If they are too heavy, you know by how much they are too heavy, and you must have a list of things made out to your scale of lightness, and—
Capt. G. I have got both scales somewhere in my head; but it's hard to tell how light you can make a head-stall, for instance, until you've actually had a model made.
Mrs. G. But if you read out the list, I could copy it down, and pin it up there just above your table. Wouldn't that do?
Capt. G. It would be awf'ly nice, dear, but it would be giving you trouble for nothing. I can't work that way. I go by rule of thumb. I know the present scale of weights, and the other one—the one that I'm trying to work to—will shift and vary so much that I couldn't be certain, even if I wrote it down.
Mrs. G. I'm so sorry. I thought I might help. Is there anything else that I could be of use in?
Capt. G. (Looking round the room.) I can't think of anything. You're always helping me you know.
Mrs. G. Am I? How?
Capt. G. You are of course, and as long as you're near me—I can't explain exactly, but it's in the air.
Mrs. G. And that's why you wanted to send me away?
Capt. G. That's only when I'm trying to do work—grubby work like this.
Mrs. G. Mafflin's better, then, isn't he?
Capt. G. (Rashly.) Of course he is. Jack and I have been thinking along the same groove for two or three years about this equipment. It's our hobby, and it may really be useful some day.
Mrs. G. (After a pause.) And that's all that you have away from me?
Capt. G. It isn't very far away from you now. Take care the oil on that bit doesn't come off on your dress.
Mrs. G. I wish—I wish so much that I could really help you. I believe I could—if I left the room. But that's not what I mean.
Capt. G. (Aside.) Give me patience! I wish she would go. (Aloud.) I assure you you can't do anything for me, Minnie, and I must really settle down to this. Where's my pouch?
Mrs. G. (Crossing to writing-table.) Here you are, Bear. What a mess you keep your table in!
Capt. G. Don' ttouch it. There's a method in my madness, though you mightn't think of it.
Mrs. G. (At table.) I want to look—Do you keep accounts, Pip?
Capt. G. (Bending over saddlery.) Of a sort. Are you rummaging among the Troop papers? Be careful.
Mrs. G. Why? I sha'n't disturb anything. Good gracious! I had no idea that you had anything to do with so many sick horses.
Capt. G. 'Wish I hadn't, but they insist on falling sick. Minnie, if 1 were you I really should not investigate those papers. You may come across something that you won't like.
Mrs. G. Why will you always treat me like a child? I know I'm not displacing the horrid things.
Capt. G. (Resignedly.) Very well, then. Don't blame me if anything happens. Play with the table and let me go on with the saddlery. (Slipping hand into trousers-pocket.) Oh, the deuce!
Mrs. G. (Her back to G.) What's that for?
Capt. G. Nothing. (Aside.) There's not much in it, but I wish I'd torn it up.
Mrs. G. (Turning over contents of table.) I know you'll hate me for this; but I do want to see what your work is like. (A pause.) Pip, what are “farcybuds”?
Capt. G. Hah! Would you really like to know? They aren't pretty things.
Mrs. G. This Journal of Veterinary Science says they are of “absorbing interest.” Tell me.
Capt. G. (Aside.) It may turn her attention.
Gives a long and designedly loathsome account of glanders and farcy.
Mrs. G. Oh, that's enough. Don't go on!
Capt. G. But you wanted to know—Then these things suppurate and matterate and spread—
Mrs. G. Pin, you're making me sick! You're a horrid, disgusting schoolboy.
Capt. G. (On his knees among the bridles.) You asked to be told. It's not my fault if you worry me into talking about horrors.
Mrs. G. Why didn't you say No?
Capt. G. Good Heavens, child! Have you come in here simply to bully me?
Mrs. G. I bully you? How could I! You're so strong. (Hysterically.) Strong enough to pick me up and put me outside the door and leave me there to cry. Aren't you?
Capt. G. It seems to me that you're an irrational little baby. Are you quite well?
Mrs. G. Do I look ill? (Returning to table). Who is your lady friend with the big grey envelope and the fat monogram outside?
Capt. G. (Aside.) Then it wasn't locked up, confound it. (Aloud.) “God made her, therefore let her pass for a woman.” You remember what farcybuds are like?
Mrs. G. (Showing envelope.) This has nothing to do with them. I'm going to open it. May I?
Capt. G. Certainly, if you want to. I'd sooner you didn't though. I don't ask to look at your letters to the Deercourt girl.
Mrs. G. You'd better not, Sir! (Takes letter from envelope.) Now, may I look? If you say no, I shall cry.
Capt. G. You've never cried in my knowledge of you, and I don't believe you could.
Mrs. G. I feel very like it today, Pip. Don't be hard on me. (Reads letter.) It begins in the middle, without any “Dear Captain Gadsby,” or anything. How funny!
Capt. G. (Aside.) No, it's not Dear Captain Gadsby, or anything, now. How funny!
Mrs. G. What a strange letter! (Reads.) “And so the moth has come too near the candle at last, and has been singed into—shall I say Respectability? I congratulate him, and hope he will be as happy as he deserves to be.” What does that mean? Is she congratulating you about our marriage?
Capt. G. Yes, I suppose so.
Mrs. G. (Still reading letter.) She seems to be a particular friend of yours.
Capt. G. Yes. She was an excellent matron of sorts—a Mrs. Herriott—wife of a Colonel Herriott. I used to know some of her people at Home long ago—before I came out.
Mrs. G. Some Colonel's wives are young—as young as me. I knew one who was younger.
Capt. G. Then it couldn't have been Mrs. Herriott. She was old enough to have been your mother, dear.
Mrs. G. I remember now. Mrs. Scargill was talking about her at the Dutfins' tennis, before you came for me, on Tuesday. Captain Mafflin said she was a “dear old woman.” Do you know, I think Mafflin is a very clumsy man with his feet.
Capt. G. (Aside.) Good old Jack! (Aloud.) Why, dear?
Mrs. G. He had put his cup down on the ground then, and he literally stepped into it. Some of the tea spirted over my dress—the grey one. I meant to tell you about it before.
Capt. G. (Aside.) There are the makings of a strategist about Jack though his methods are coarse. (Aloud.) You'd better get a new dress, then. (Aside.) Let us pray that that will turn her.
Mrs. G. Oh, it isn't stained in the least. I only thought that I'd tell you. (Returning to letter.) What an extraordinary person! (Reads.) “But need I remind you that you have taken upon yourself a charge of wardship”—what in the world is a charge of wardship?—“which as you yourself know, may end in Consequences”—
Capt. G. (Aside.) It's safest to let em see everything as they come across it; but 'seems to me that there are exceptions to the rule. (Aloud.) I told you that there was nothing to be gained from rearranging my table.
Mrs. G. (Absently.) What does the woman mean? She goes on talking about Consequences—“almost inevitable Consequences” with a capital C—for half a page. (Flushing scarlet.) Oh, good gracious! How abominable!
Capt. G. (Promptly.) Do you think so? Doesn't it show a sort of motherly interest in us? (Aside.) Thank Heaven. Harry always wrapped her meaning up safely! (Aloud.) Is it absolutely necessary to go on with the letter, darling?
Mrs. G. It's impertinent—it's simply horrid. What right has this woman to write in this way to you? She oughtn't to.
Capt. G. When you write to the Deercourt girl, I notice that you generally fill three or four sheets. Can't you let an old woman babble on paper once in a way? She means well.
Mrs. G. I don't care. She shouldn't write, and if she did, you ought to have shown me her letter.
Capt. G. Can't you understand why I kept it to myself, or must I explain at length—as I explained the farcybuds?
Mrs. G. (Furiously.) Pip I hate you! This is as bad as those idiotic saddle-bags on the floor. Never mind whether it would please me or not, you ought to have given it to me to read.
Capt. G. It comes to the same thing. You took it yourself.
Mrs. G. Yes, but if I hadn't taken it, you wouldn't have said a word. I think this Harriet Herriott—it's like a name in a book—is an interfering old Thing.
Capt. G. (Aside.) So long as you thoroughly understand that she is old, I don't much care what you think. (Aloud.) Very good, dear. Would you like to write and tell her so? She's seven thousand miles away.
Mrs. G. I don't want to have anything to do with her, but you ought to have told me. (Turning to last page of letter.) And she patronizes me, too. I've never seen her! (Reads.) “I do not know how the world stands with you; in all human probability I shall never know; but whatever I may have said before, I pray for her sake more than for yours that all may be well. I have learned what misery means, and I dare not wish that any one dear to you should share my knowledge.”
Capt. G. Good God! Can't you leave that letter alone, or, at least, can't you refrain from reading it aloud? I've been through it once. Put it back on the desk. Do you hear me?
Mrs. G. (Irresolutely.) I sh-sha'n't! (Looks at G.'s eyes.) Oh, Pip, please! I didn't mean to make you angry—'Deed, I didn't. Pip, I'm so sorry. I know I've wasted your time—
Capt. G. (Grimly.) You have. Now, will you be good enough to go—if there is nothing more in my room that you are anxious to pry into?
Mrs. G. (Putting out her hands.) Oh, Pip, don't look at me like that! I've never seen you look like that before and it hu-urts me! I'm sorry. I oughtn't to have been here at all, and—and—and—(sobbing.) Oh, be good to me! Be good to me! There's only you—anywhere! Breaks down in long chair, hiding face in cushions.
Capt. G. (Aside.) She doesn't know how she flicked me on the raw. (Aloud, bending over chair.) I didn't mean to be harsh, dear—I didn't really. You can stay here as long as you please, and do what you please. Don't cry like that. You'll make yourself sick. (Aside.) What on earth has come over her? (Aloud.) Darling, what's the matter with you?
Mrs. G. (Her face still hidden.) Let me go—let me go to my own room. Only—only say you aren't angry with me.
Capt. G. Angry with you, love! Of course not. I was angry with myself. I'd lost my temper over the saddlery—Don't hide your face, Pussy. I want to kiss it.
Bends lower, Mrs. G. slides right arm round his neck. Several interludes and much sobbing.
Mrs. G. (In a whisper.) I didn't mean about the jam when I came in to tell you— CAPT. G. Bother the jam and the equipment! (Interlude.)
Mrs. G. (Still more faintly.) My finger wasn't scalded at all. I—wanted to speak to you about—about—something else, and—I didn't know how.
Capt. G. Speak away, then. (Looking into her eyes.) Eh! Wha-at? Minnie! Here, don't go away! You don't mean?
Mrs. G. (Hysterically, backing to portiere and hiding her face in its folds.) The—the Almost Inevitable Consequences! (Flits through portiere as G. attempts to catch her, and bolts her self in her own room.)
Capt. G. (His arms full of portiere.) Oh! (Sitting down heavily in chair.) I'm a brute, a pig—a bully, and a blackguard. My poor, poor little darling! “Made to be amused only?”—