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Two Men of Sandy Bar: A Drama, a play by Bret Harte |
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Act 2 Scene 2 |
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_ [SCENE 2. The same. Enter CONCHO, lame, cautiously, from R. Pauses at R., and then beckons to HOP SING, who follows R.]
HOP SING. Me see him. CONCHO. And you recognized him? HOP SING. No shabe likoquize. CONCHO (furiously). You knew him, eh? Carramba! You KNEW him. HOP SING (slowly and sententiously). Me shabe man you callee Diego. Me shabbee Led Gulchee call SANDY. Me shabbee man Poker Flat callee Alexandlee Molton. Allee same, John! Allee same! CONCHO (rubbing his hands). Bueno! Good John! good John! And you knew he was called Alexander Morton? And go on--good John--go on! HOP SING. Me plentee washee shirtee--Melican man Poker Flat. Me plentee washee shirt Alexandlee Molton. Always litee, litee on shirt allee time. (Pointing to tail of his blouse, and imitating writing with finger.) Alexandlee Molton. Melican man tellee me--shirt say Alexandlee Molton--shabbee? CONCHO. Bueno! Excellent John. Good John. His linen marked Alexander MORTON. The proofs are gathering! (crosses to C.)--the letter I found in his pack, addressed to Alexander Morton, Poker Flat, which first put me on his track; the story of his wife's infidelity, and her flight with his partner to red Gulch, the quarrel and fight that separated them, his flight to San Jose, his wanderings to the mission of San Carmel, to the rancho of the Holy Fisherman. The record is complete! HOP SING. Alexandlee Molton-- CONCHO (hurriedly returning to HOP SING). Yes! good John; yes, good John--go on. Alexander Morton-- HOP SING. Alexandlee Molton. Me washee shirt, Alexandlee Molton; he no pay washee. Me washee flowty dozen hep--four bittie dozen--twenty dollar hep. Alexandlee Molton no payee. He say, "Go to hellee!" You pay me (extending his hand). CONCHO. Car--! (checking himself). Poco tiempo, John! In good time, John. Forty dollar--yes. Fifty dollar! Tomorrow, John. HOP SING. Me no likee "to-mollow!" Me no likee "nex time, John!" Allee time Melican man say, "Chalkee up, John," "No smallee change, John,"--umph. Plenty foolee me! CONCHO. You shall have your money, John; but go now--you comprehend. Carramba! go! (Pushes HOP SING to wing.) HOP SING (expostulating). Flowty dozen, hep, John! twenty dollar, John. Sabe. Flowty--twenty--(gesticulating with fingers). [Exit HOP SING, pushed off by CONCHO.] CONCHO. The pagan dolt! But he is important. Ah, if he were wiser, I should not rid myself of him so quickly! And now for the schoolmistress,--the sweetheart of SANDY. If these men have not lied, he is in love with her; and, if he is, he has told her his secret before now; and she will be swift to urge him to his rights. If he has not told her--umph! (laughing) it will not be a DAY--an HOUR--before she will find out if her lover is Alexander Morton, the rich man's son, or "Sandy," the unknown vagabond. Eh, friend Sandy! It was a woman that locked up your secret: it shall be a woman, Madre di Dios! who shall unlock it. Ha! (Goes to door of schoolhouse as door opens, and appears COL. STARBOTTLE.) CONCHO (aside). A thousand devils! the lawyer of the old man MORTON. (Aloud.) Pardon, pardon! I am a stranger. I have lost my way on the mountain. I am seeking a trail. Senor, pardon! STARBOTTLE (aside). Another man seeking the road! Ged, I believe he's lying too. (Aloud.) It is before you, sir, DOWN,--down the mountain. CONCHO. A thousand thanks, senor. (Aside.) Perdition catch him! (Aloud.) Thanks, senor. [Exit R. STARBOTTLE. Ged, I've seen that face before. Ged, it's Castro's major-domo. Demn me, but I believe all his domestics have fallen in love with the pretty schoolma'am. [Enter MISS MARY from schoolhouse.] MISS MARY (slowly refolding letter). You are aware, then, of the contents of this note; and you are the friend of Alexander Morton, sen.? COL. STARBOTTLE. Permit me a moment, a single moment, to--er--er--explain. I am Mr. Morton's legal adviser. There is--er--sense of--er--responsibility,--er--personal responsibility, about the term "friend," that at the--er--er--present moment I am not--er--prepared to assume. The substance of the letter is before you. I am here to--er--express its spirit. I am here (with great gallantry) to express the--er--yearnings of cousinly affection. I am aware--er--that OUR conduct,--if I may use the--er--the plural of advocacy,--I am aware that--er--OUR conduct has not in the past years been of--er--er--exemplary character. I am aware that the--er--death of our lamented cousin, your sainted mother, was--er--hastened--I may--er--say--pre--cip--itated--by our--er--indiscretion But we are hereto--er--confess judgment--with--er--er--costs. MISS MARY (interrupting). In other words, your client, my cousin, having ruined my father, having turned his own widowed relation out of doors, and sent me, her daughter, among strangers to earn her bread; having seen my mother sink and die in her struggle to keep her family from want,--this man now seeks to condone his offences--pardon me, sir, if I use your own legal phraseology--by offering me a home; by giving me part of his ill-gotten wealth, the association of his own hypocritical self, and the company of his shameless, profligate son-- STARBOTTLE (interrupting). A moment, Miss Morris,--a single moment! The epithets you have used, the--er--vigorous characterization of our--er--conduct, is--er--within the--er--strict rules of legal advocacy, correct. We are--er--rascals! we are--er--scoundrels! we are--er--well, I am not--er--prepared to say that we are not--er--demn me--hypocrites! But the young man you speak of--our son, whose past life (speaking as Col. Starbottle) no one more sincerely deprecates than myself,--that young man has reformed; has been for the past few months a miracle of sobriety, decorum, and industry; has taken, thanks to the example of--er--friends, a position of integrity in his father's business, of filial obedience in his father's household; is, in short, a paragon; and, demn me, I doubt if he's his father's son. MISS MARY. Enough, sir! You are waiting for my answer. There is no reason why it should not be as precise, as brief, and as formal as your message. Go to my cousin; say that you saw the person he claims as his relation; say that you found her, a poor schoolmistress, in a rude mining camp, dependent for her bread on the scant earnings of already impoverished men, dependent for her honor on the rude chivalry of outcasts and vagabonds; and say that then and there she repudiated your kinship, and respectfully declined your invitation. STARBOTTLE (aside). Ged! Star! this is the--er--female of your species! This is the woman--the--er--one woman--for whom you are responsible, sir!--personally responsible! MISS MARY (coldly). You have my answer, sir. COL. STARBOTTLE. Permit me--er--single moment,--a single moment! Between the er--present moment, and that of my departure--there is an--er--interval of twelve hours. May I, at the close of that interval--again present myself--without prejudice, for your final answer? MISS MARY (indifferently). As you will, sir. I shall be here. COL. STARBOTTLE. Permit me. (Takes her hand gallantly.) Your conduct and manner, Miss Morris, remind me--er--singularly--of--er beautiful creature--one of the--er--first families. (Observing MISS MARY regarding him amusedly, becomes embarrassed.) That is--er--I mean--er--er--good morning, Miss Morris! (Passes by schoolhouse door, retreating and bowing, and picks up flowers from door-step.) Good morning! MISS MARY. Excuse me, COL. STARBOTTLE (with winning politeness), but I fear I must rob you of those flowers. I recognize them now as the offering of one of my pupils. I fear I must revoke my gift (taking flowers from astonished colonel's hand), all except a single one for your buttonhole. Have you any choice, or shall I (archly) choose for you? Then it shall be this. (Begins to place flowers in buttonhole, COL. STARBOTTLE exhibiting extravagant gratitude in dumb show. Business prolonged through MISS MARY's speech.) If I am not wrong, colonel, the gentleman to whom you so kindly pointed out the road this morning was not a stranger to you. Ah! I am right. There, one moment,--a sprig of green, a single leaf, would set off the pink nicely. Here he is known only as "Sandy": you know the absurd habits of this camp. Of course he has another name. There! (releasing the colonel) it is much prettier now. COL. STARBOTTLE. Ged, madam! The rarest exotic--the Victoria Regina--is not as--er--graceful--er--tribute! MISS MARY. And yet you refuse to satisfy my curiosity? COL. STARBOTTLE (with great embarrassment, which at last resolves itself into increased dignity of manner). What you ask is--er--er--impossible! You are right: the--er--gentleman you allude to is known to me under--er--er--another name. But honor--Miss Morris, honor!--seals the lips of COL. STARBOTTLE. (Aside.) If she should know he was a menial! No. The position of the man you have challenged, Star, must be equal to your own. (Aloud.) Anything, Miss Morris, but--er--that! MISS MARY (smiling). Be it so. Adios, Col. STARBOTTLE. COL. STARBOTTLE (gallantly). Au revoir, Miss Morris. [Exit, impressively, L. MISS MARY. So! Sandy conceals another name, which he withholds from Red Gulch. Well! Pshaw! What is that to me? The camp is made up of refugees,--men who perhaps have good reason to hide a name that may be infamous, the name that would publish a crime. Nonsense! Crime and Sandy! No, shame and guilt do not hide themselves in those honest but occasionally somewhat bloodshot eyes. Besides, goodness knows! the poor fellow's weakness is palpable enough. No, that is not the reason. It is no guilt that keeps his name hidden,--at least, not his. (Seating herself, and arranging flowers in her lap.) Poor Sandy! he must have climbed the eastern summit to get this. See, the rosy sunrise still lingers in its very petals; the dew is fresh upon it. Dear little mountain baby! I really believe that fellow got up before daylight, to climb that giddy height and secure its virgin freshness. And to think, in a moment of spite, I'd have given it to that bombastic warrior! (Pause.) That was a fine offer you refused just now, MISS MARY. Think of it: a home of luxury, a position of assured respect and homage; the life I once led, with all its difficulties smoothed away, its uncertainty dispelled,--think of it! My poor mother's dream fulfilled,--I, her daughter, the mistress of affluence, the queen of social power! What a temptation! Ah, Miss Mary, WAS it a temptation? Was there nothing in your free life here that stiffened your courage, that steeled the adamant of your refusal? or was it only the memory of your mother's wrongs? Luxury and wealth! Could you command a dwelling more charming than this? Position and respect! Is not the awful admiration of these lawless men more fascinating than the perilous flattery of gentlemen like Col. Starbottle? is not the devotion of these outcasts more complimentary than the lip-service of perfumed gallantry? (Pause.) It's very odd he doesn't come. I wonder if that conceited old fool said anything to him. (Rises, and then seats herself, smiling.) He HAS COME. He is dodging in and out of the manganita bushes below the spring. I suppose he imagines my visitor still here. The bashful fool! If anybody should see him, it would be enough to make a petty scandal! I'll give him a talking-to. (Pause.) I wonder if the ridiculous fool has gone to sleep in those bushes. (Rises.) Well, let him: it will help him to recover his senses from last night's dissipation; and you, Miss Mary, it is high time you were preparing the lessons for to-morrow. (Goes to schoolhouse, enters door, and slams it behind her; after a moment reappears with empty bucket.) Of course there's no water, and I am dying of thirst. (Goes slowly to left, and pauses embarrassedly and bashfully, presently laughs,--then suddenly frowns, and assumes an appearance of indignation.) Miss Mary Morris, have you become such an egregious fool that you dare not satisfy the ordinary cravings of human nature, just because an idle, dissipated, bashful blockhead--nonsense! [Exit, brandishing pail. _ |
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