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The Romantic Age: A Comedy In Three Acts, a play by A. A. Milne |
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_ ACT III (It is about four o'clock in the afternoon of the same day. JANE is sitting on the sofa in the hall, glancing at a paper, but evidently rather bored with it, and hoping that somebody--BOBBY, did you say?--will appear presently. However, it is MR. KNOWLE who comes in.) MR. KNOWLE. Ah, Jane! JANE (looking up). Hallo, Uncle Henry. Did you have a good day? MR. KNOWLE. Well, Peters and I had a very enjoyable drive. JANE. But you found nothing at the sale? What a pity! MR. KNOWLE (taking a catalogue from his pocket). Nothing which I wanted myself, but there were several very interesting lots. Peters was strongly tempted by Lot 29--"Two hip-baths and a stuffed crocodile." Very useful things to have by you if you think of getting married, Jane, and setting up house for yourself. I don't know if you have any thoughts in that direction? JANE (a little embarrassed). Well, I suppose I shall some day. MR. KNOWLE. Ah! . . . Where's Bobby? JANE (carelessly). Bobby? Oh, he's about somewhere. MR. KNOWLE. I think Bobby would like to hear about Lot 29. (Returning to his catalogue) Or perhaps Lot 42. "Lot 42--Twelve aspidistras, towel-horse, and 'The Maiden's Prayer.'" All for seven and sixpence. I ought to have had Bobby with me. He could have made a firm offer of eight shillings. . . . By the way, I have a daughter, haven't I? How was Sandy this morning? JANE. I didn't see her. Aunt Mary is rather anxious about her. MR. KNOWLE. Has she left us for ever? JANE. There's nothing to be frightened about really. MR. KNOWLE. I'm not frightened. JANE. She had breakfast before any of us were up, and went out with some sandwiches afterwards, and she hasn't come back yet. MR. KNOWLE. A very healthy way of spending the day. (MRS. KNOWLE comes in) Well, Mary, I hear that we have no daughter now. MRS. KNOWLE. Ah, there you are, Henry. Thank Heaven that _you_ are back safely. MR. KNOWLE. My dear, I always meant to come back safely. Didn't you expect me? MRS. KNOWLE. I had given up hope. Jane here will tell you what a terrible morning I have had; prostrate on the sofa, mourning for my loved ones. My only child torn from me, my husband--dead. MR. KNOWLE (surprised). Oh, I was dead? MRS. KNOWLE. I pictured the car smashed to atoms, and you lying in the road, dead, with Peters by your side. MR. KNOWLE. Ah! How was Peters? MRS. KNOWLE (with a shrug). I didn't look. What is a chauffeur to one who has lost her husband and her only child in the same morning? MR. KNOWLE. Still, I think you might have looked. JANE. Sandy's all right, Aunt Mary. You know she often goes out alone all day like this. MRS. KNOWLE. Ah, _is_ she alone? Jane, did you count the gardeners as I asked you? MR. KNOWLE. Count the gardeners? MRS. KNOWLE. To make sure that none of them is missing too. JANE. It's quite all right, Aunt Mary. Sandy will be back by tea-time. MRS. KNOWLE (resigned). It all comes of christening her Melisande. You know, Henry, I quite thought you said Millicent. MR. KNOWLE. Well, talking about tea, my dear--at which happy meal our long-lost daughter will be restored to us--we have a visitor coming, a nice young fellow who takes an interest in prints. MRS. KNOWLE. I've heard nothing of this, Henry. MR. KNOWLE. No, my dear, that's why I'm telling you now. MRS. KNOWLE. A young man? MR. KNOWLE. Yes. MRS. KNOWLE. Nice-looking? MR. KNOWLE. Yes. MRS. KNOWLE. Rich? MR. KNOWLE. I forgot to ask him, Mary. However, we can remedy that omission as soon as he arrives. MRS. KNOWLE. It's a very unfortunate day for him to have chosen. Here's Sandy lost, and I'm not fit to be seen, and--Jane, your hair wants tidying---- MR. KNOWLE. He is not coming to see you or Sandy or Jane, my dear; he is coming to see me. Fortunately, I am looking very beautiful this afternoon. MRS. KNOWLE. Jane, you had better be in the garden, dear, and see if you can stop Sandy before she comes in, and just give her a warning. I don't know _what_ she'll look like after roaming the fields all day, and falling into pools---- MR. KNOWLE. A sweet disorder in the dress kindles in clothes a wantonness. MRS. KNOWLE. I will go and tidy myself. Jane, I think your mother would like you to--but, after all, one must think of one's own child first. You will tell Sandy, won't you? We had better have tea in here. . . . Henry, your trousers--(she looks to see that JANE is not listening, and then says in a loud whisper) your trousers---- MR. KNOWLE. I'm afraid I didn't make myself clear, Mary. It's a young fellow who is coming to see my prints; not the Prince of Wales who is coming to see my trousers. MRS. KNOWLE (turning to JANE). You'll remember, Jane? JANE (smiling). Yes, Aunt Mary. MRS. KNOWLE. That's a good girl. [She goes out.] MR. KNOWLE. Ah! . . . Your aunt wasn't very lucid, Jane. Which one of you is it who is going to marry the gentleman? JANE. Don't be so absurd, Uncle Henry. MR. KNOWLE (taking out his catalogue again). Perhaps _he_ would be interested in Lot 29. (BOBBY comes in through the windows.) Ah, here's Bobby. Bobby, they tell me that you think of setting up house. BOBBY (looking quickly at JANE). Who told you that? MR. KNOWLE. Now, starting with two hip-baths and a stuffed crocodile for nine shillings and sixpence, and working up to twelve aspidistras, a towel-horse and "The Maiden's Prayer" for eight shillings, you practically have the spare room furnished for seventeen and six. But perhaps I had better leave the catalogue with you. (He presses it into the bewildered BOBBY'S hands) I must go and tidy myself up. Somebody is coming to propose to me this afternoon. [He hurries out.] (BOBBY looks after him blankly, and then turns to JANE.) BOBBY. I say, what's happened? JANE. Happened? BOBBY. Yes, why did he say that about my setting up house? JANE. I think he was just being funny. He is sometimes, you know. BOBBY. You don't think he guessed---- JANE. Guessed what? About you and Melisande? BOBBY. I say, shut up, Jane. I thought we agreed not to say anything more about that. JANE. But what else could he have guessed? BOBBY. _You_ know well enough. JANE (shaking her head). No, I don't. BOBBY. I told you this morning. JANE. What did you tell me? BOBBY. _You_ know. JANE. No, I don't. BOBBY. Yes, you do. JANE. No, I don't. BOBBY (coming closer). All right, shall I tell you again? JANE (edging away). I don't want to hear it. BOBBY. How do you know you don't want to hear it, if you don't know what it is? JANE. I can guess what it is. BOBBY. There you are! JANE. It's what you say to everybody, isn't it? BOBBY (loftily). If you want to know, Miss Bagot, I have only said it to one other person in my life, and that was in mistake for you. JANE (coldly). Melisande and I are not very much alike, Mr. Coote. BOBBY. No. You're much prettier. JANE (turning her head away). You don't really think so. Anyhow, it isn't true. BOBBY. It is true, Jane. I swear it. JANE. Well, you didn't think so yesterday. BOBBY. Why do you keep talking about yesterday? I'm talking about to-day. JANE. A girl has her pride, Bobby. BOBBY. So has a man. I'm awfully proud of being in love with _you_. JANE. That isn't what I mean. BOBBY. What do you mean? JANE (awkwardly). Well--well--well, what it comes to is that you get refused by Sandy, and then you immediately come to me and expect me to jump at you. BOBBY. Suppose I had waited a year and then come to you, would that have been better? JANE. Of course it would. BOBBY. Well, really I can't follow you, darling. JANE (indignantly). You mustn't call me darling. BOBBY. Mustn't call you what? JANE (awkwardly). Darling. BOBBY. Did I call you darling? JANE (shortly). Yes. BOBBY (to himself). "Darling." No, I suppose I mustn't. But it suits you so awfully well--darling. (She stamps her foot) I'm sorry, darl---- I mean Jane, but really I can't follow you. Because you're so frightfully fascinating, that after twenty-four hours of it, I simply have to tell you how much I love you, then your pride is hurt. But if you had been so frightfully unattractive that it took me a whole year to see anything in you at all, then apparently you'd have been awfully proud. JANE. You _have_ known me a whole year, Bobby. BOBBY. Not really, you know. Directly I saw you and Sandy together I knew I was in love with one of you, but--well, love is a dashed rummy thing, and I thought it was Sandy. And so I didn't really see you till last night, when you were so awfully decent to me. JANE (wistfully). It sounds very well, but the trouble is that it will sound just as well to the next girl. BOBBY. What next girl? JANE. The one you propose to to-morrow. BOBBY. You know, Jane, when you talk like that I feel that you don't deserve to be proposed to at all. JANE (loftily). I'm sure I don't want to be. BOBBY (coming closer). Are you? JANE. Am I what? BOBBY. Quite sure. JANE. I should have thought it was pretty obvious seeing that I've just refused you. BOBBY. Have you? JANE. Have I what? BOBBY. Refused me. JANE. I thought I had. BOBBY. And would you be glad if I went away and never saw you again? (She hesitates) Honest, Jane. Would you? JANE (awkwardly). Well, of course, I _like_ you, Bobby. I always have. BOBBY. But you feel that you would like me better if I were somebody else's husband? JANE (indignantly). Oh, I _never_ said that. BOBBY. Dash it, you've been saying it all this afternoon. JANE (weakly). Bobby, don't; I can't argue with you. But really, dear, I can't say now that I will marry you. Oh, you _must_ understand. Oh, _think_ what Sandy---- BOBBY. We won't tell Sandy. JANE (surprised). But she's bound to know. BOBBY. We won't tell anybody. JANE (eagerly). Bobby! BOBBY (nodding). Just you and me. Nobody else for a long time. A little private secret. JANE. Bobby! BOBBY (coming to her). Is it a bargain, Jane? Because if it's a bargain---- JANE (going away from him). No, no, Bobby. Not now. I must go upstairs and tidy myself--no, I mustn't, I must wait for Melisande--no, Bobby, don't. Not yet. I mean it, really. Do go, dear, anybody might come in. (BOBBY, who has been following her round the hall, as she retreats nervously, stops and nods to her.) BOBBY. All right, darling, I'll go. JANE. You mustn't say "darling." You might say it accidentally in front of them all. BOBBY (grinning). All right, Miss Bagot . . . I am going now, Miss Bagot. (At the windows) Good-bye, Miss Bagot. (JANE blows him a kiss. He bows) Your favour to hand, Miss Bagot. (He turns and sees MELISANDE coming through the garden) Hallo, here's Sandy! (He hurries off in the opposite direction.) MELISANDE. Oh, Jane, Jane! (She sinks into a chair.) JANE. What, dear? MELISANDE. Everything. JANE. Yes, but that's so vague, darling. Do you mean that---- MELISANDE (dreamily). I have seen him; I have talked to him; he has kissed me. JANE (amazed). _Kissed_ you? Do you mean that he has--kissed you? MELISANDE. I have looked into his eyes, and he has looked into mine. JANE. Yes, but who? MELISANDE. The true knight, the prince, for whom I have been waiting so long. JANE. But _who_ is he? MELISANDE. They call him Gervase. JANE. Gervase _who_? MELISANDE (scornfully). Did Elaine say, "Lancelot who" when they told her his name was Lancelot? JANE. Yes, dear, but this is the twentieth century. He must have a name. MELISANDE (dreamily). Through the forest he came to me, dressed in blue and gold. JANE (sharply). Sandy! (Struck with an idea) Have you been out all day without your hat, darling? MELISANDE (vaguely). Have I? JANE. I mean--blue and gold. They don't do it nowadays. MELISANDE (nodding to her). _He_ did, Jane. JANE. But how?--Why? Who can he be? MELISANDE. He said he was a humble woodcutter's son. That means he was a prince in disguise. He called me his princess. JANE. Darling, how could he be a prince? MELISANDE. I have read stories sometimes of men who went to sleep and woke up thousands of years afterwards and found themselves in a different world. Perhaps, Jane, _he_ lived in those old days, and---- JANE. Did he _talk_ like an ordinary person? MELISANDE. Oh no, no! JANE. Well, it's really extraordinary. . . . Was he a gentleman? MELISANDE (smiling at her). I didn't ask him, Jane. JANE (crossly). You know what I mean. MELISANDE. He is coming this afternoon to take me away. JANE (amazed). To take you away? But what about Aunt Mary? MELISANDE (vaguely). Aunt Mary? What has _she_ got to do with it? JANE (impatiently). Oh, but---- (With a shrug of resignation) I don't understand. Do you mean he's coming _here_? (MELISANDE nods gravely) Melisande, you'll let me see him? MELISANDE. Yes. I've thought it all out. I wanted you here, Jane. He will come in; I will present you; and then you must leave us alone. But I should like you to see him. Just to see how different, how utterly different he is from every other man. . . . But you will promise to go when you have seen him, won't you? JANE (nodding). I'll say, "I'm afraid I must leave you now, and----" Sandy, how _can_ he be a prince? MELISANDE. When you see him, Jane, you will say, "How can he not be a prince?" JANE. But one has to leave princes backward. I mean--he won't expect--_you_ know---- MELISANDE. I don't think so. Besides, after all, you are my cousin. JANE. Yes. I think I shall get that in; just to be on the safe side. "Well, cousin, I must leave you now, as I have to attend my aunt." And then a sort of--not exactly a curtsey, but--(she practises, murmuring the words to herself). I suppose you didn't happen to mention _me_ to him this morning? MELISANDE (half smiling). Oh no! JANE (hurt). I don't see why you shouldn't have. What did you talk about? MELISANDE. I don't know. (She grips JANE'S arm suddenly) Jane, I didn't dream it all this morning, did I? It did happen? I saw him--he kissed me--he is coming for me--he---- (Enter ALICE) ALICE. Mr. Gervase Mallory. MELISANDE (happily). Ah! (GERVASE comes in, an apparently ordinary young man in a loud golfing suit.) GERVASE. How do you do? MELISANDE (looking at him with growing amazement and horror). Oh! (JANE looks from one to the other in bewilderment.) GERVASE. I ought to explain. Mr. Knowle was kind enough to lend me some petrol last night; my car broke down; he was good enough to say I might come this afternoon and see his prints. I am hoping to be allowed to thank him again for his kindness last night. And--er--I've brought back the petrol. MELISANDE (still with her eyes on him). My father will no doubt be here directly. This is my cousin, Miss Bagot. GERVASE (bowing). How do you do? JANE (nervously). How do you do? (After a pause) Well, I'm afraid I must leave you now, as---- MELISANDE (with her eyes still on GERVASE, putting out a hand and clutching at JANE). No! JANE (startled). What? MELISANDE. Don't go, Jane. Do sit down, won't you, Mr.--er---- GERVASE. Mallory. MELISANDE. Mr. Mallory. GERVASE. Thank you. MELISANDE. Where will you sit, Mr. Mallory? (She is still talking in an utterly expressionless voice.) GERVASE. Thank you. Where are you---- (he indicates the sofa.) MELISANDE (moving to it, but still holding JANE). Thank _you_. (MELISANDE and JANE sit down together on the sofa. GERVASE sits on a chair near. There is an awkward silence.) JANE (half getting up). Well, I'm afraid I must---- (MELISANDE pulls her down. She subsides.) MELISANDE. Charming weather we are having, are we not, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE (enthusiastically). Oh, rather. Absolutely top-hole. MELISANDE (to JANE). Absolutely top-hole weather, is it not, Jane? JANE. Oh, I love it. MELISANDE. You play golf, I expect, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. Oh, rather. I've been playing this morning. (With a smile) Pretty rotten, too, I'm afraid. MELISANDE. Jane plays golf. (to JANE) You're pretty rotten, too, aren't you, Jane? JANE. Bobby and I were both very bad to-day. MELISANDE. I think you will like Bobby, Mr. Mallory. He is staying with us just now. I expect you will have a good deal in common. He is on the Stock Exchange. GERVASE (smiling). So am I. MELISANDE (valiantly repressing a shudder). Jane, Mr. Mallory is on the Stock Exchange. Isn't that curious? I felt sure that he must be directly I saw him. (There is another awkward silence.) JANE (getting up). Well, I'm afraid I must---- MELISANDE (pulling her down). Don't go, Jane. I suppose there are a great many of you on the Stock Exchange, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. Oh, quite a lot. MELISANDE. Quite a lot, Jane. . . . You don't know Bobby--Mr. Coote? GERVASE. N--no, I don't think so. MELISANDE. I suppose there are so many of you, and you dress so much alike, and look so much alike, that it's difficult to be quite sure whom you do know. GERVASE. Yes, of course, that makes it more difficult. MELISANDE. Yes. You see that, don't you, Jane? . . . You play billiards and bridge, of course, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. Oh yes. MELISANDE. They are absolutely top-hole games, aren't they? Are you--pretty rotten at them? GERVASE. Well---- MELISANDE (getting up). Ah, here's my father. (Enter MR. KNOWLE) MR. KNOWLE. Ah, Mr. Mallory, delighted to see you. And Sandy and Jane to entertain you. That's right. (They shake hands) GERVASE. How do you do? (ALICE comes in with tea) MR. KNOWLE. I've been wasting my day at a sale. I hope you spent yours more profitably, (GERVASE laughs pleasantly) And what have you been doing, Sandy? MELISANDE. Wasting mine, too, Father. MR. KNOWLE. Dear, dear. Well, they say that the wasted hours are the best. MELISANDE (moving to the door). I think I will go and---- (MRS. KNOWLE comes in with outstretched hands) MR. KNOWLE. My dear, this is Mr. Mallory. MRS. KNOWLE. My dear Mr. Mallory! (Turning round) Sandy, dear! (MELISANDE comes slowly back) How do you do? GERVASE (shaking hands). How do you do? MRS. KNOWLE. Sandy, dear! (to GERVASE) My daughter, Melisande, Mr. Mallory. My only child. GERVASE. Oh--er--we---- MELISANDE. Mr. Mallory and I have met, Mother. MRS. KNOWLE (indicating JANE). And our dear Jane. My dear sister's only daughter. But dear Jane has a brother. Dear Harold! In the Civil Service. Sandy, dear, will you pour out tea? MELISANDE (resigned). Yes, Mother. (She goes to the tea-table.) MRS. KNOWLE (going to the sofa). I am such an invalid now, Mr. Mallory---- GERVASE (helping her). Oh, I'm so sorry. Can I----? MRS. KNOWLE. Thank you. Dr. Anderson insists on my resting as much as possible. So my dear Melisande looks after the house for me. Such a comfort. You are not married yourself, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. No. Oh no. MRS. KNOWLE (smiling to herself). Ah! MELISANDE. Jane, Mother's tea. (JANE takes it.) GERVASE (coming forward). Oh, I beg your pardon. Let me---- JANE. It's all right. (GERVASE takes up a cake-stand.) MR. KNOWLE. Where's Bobby? Bobby is the real expert at this. MELISANDE. I expect Mr. Mallory is an expert, too, Father. You enjoy tea-parties, I expect, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. I enjoy most things, Miss Knowle. (To MRS. KNOWLE) What will you have? MRS. KNOWLE. Thank you. I have to be careful. Dr. Anderson insists on my being careful, Mr. Mallory. (Confidentially) Nothing organic, you understand. Both my husband and I--Melisande has an absolutely sound constitution. MELISANDE (indicating cup). Jane . . . Sugar and milk, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. Please. (To MR. KNOWLE) Won't _you_ have this, sir? MR. KNOWLE. No thank you. I have a special cup. (He takes a large cup from MELISANDE). A family tradition, Mr. Mallory. But whether it is that I am supposed to require more nourishment than the others, or that I can't be trusted with anything breakable, History does not relate. GERVASE (laughing). Well, I think you're lucky. I like a big cup. MR. KNOWLE. Have mine. GERVASE. No, thanks. BOBBY (coming in). Hallo! Tea? MR. KNOWLE. Ah, Bobby, you're just in time. (to GERVASE) This is Mr. Coote. Bobby, this is Mr. Mallory. (They nod to each other and say, "How do you do?") MELISANDE (indicating a seat next to her). Come and sit here, Bobby. BOBBY (who was making for JANE). Oh--er--righto. (He sits down.) MR. KNOWLE (to GERVASE). And how did the dance go last night? JANE. Oh, were you at a dance? How lovely! MELISANDE. Dance? MR. KNOWLE. And a fancy dress dance, too, Sandy. _You_ ought to have been there. MELISANDE (understanding). Ah! MRS. KNOWLE. My daughter is devoted to dancing, Mr. Mallory. Dances so beautifully, they all say. BOBBY. Where was it? GERVASE. Collingham. MR. KNOWLE. And did they all fall in love with you? You ought to have seen him, Sandy. GERVASE. Well, I'm afraid I never got there. MR. KNOWLE. Dear, dear. . . . Peters is in love just now. . . . I hope he didn't give you cider in mistake for petrol. MRS. KNOWLE. You have a car, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. Yes. MRS. KNOWLE. Ah! (to MELISANDE) Won't Mr. Mallory have some more tea, Sandy? MELISANDE. Will you have some more tea, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. Thank you. (to MRS. KNOWLE) Won't you---- (He begins to get up.) MRS. KNOWLE. _Please_ don't trouble. I never have more than one cup. Dr. Anderson is very firm about that. Only one cup, Mrs. Knowle. BOBBY (to MELISANDE). Sandwich? Oh, you're busy. Sandwich, Jane? JANE (taking one). Thank you. BOBBY (to GERVASE). Sandwich? GERVASE. Thank you. BOBBY (to MR. KNOWLE). Sandwich? MR. KNOWLE. Thank you, Bobby. Fortunately nobody minds what _I_ eat or drink. BOBBY (to himself). Sandwich, Mr. Coote? Thank you. (He takes one.) MRS. KNOWLE (to GERVASE). Being such an invalid, Mr. Mallory, it is a great comfort to me to have Melisande to look after the house. GERVASE. I am sure it is. MRS. KNOWLE. Of course, I can't expect to keep her for ever. MELISANDE (coldly). More tea, Jane? JANE. Thank you, dear. MRS. KNOWLE. It's extraordinary how she has taken to it. I must say that I do like a girl to be a good housekeeper. Don't you agree, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. Well, of course, all that sort of thing _is_ rather important. MRS. KNOWLE. That's what I always tell Sandy. "Happiness begins in the kitchen, Sandy." MELISANDE. I'm sure Mr. Mallory agrees with you, Mother. GERVASE (laughing). Well, one must eat. BOBBY (passing plate). Have another sandwich? GERVASE (taking one). Thanks. MRS. KNOWLE. Do you live in the neighbourhood, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. About twenty miles away. Little Malling. JANE (helpfully). Oh, yes. MRS. KNOWLE. Well, I hope we shall see you here again. GERVASE. That's very kind of you indeed. I shall love to come. MELISANDE. More tea, Father? MR. KNOWLE. No, thank you, my love. MELISANDE. More tea, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. No, thank you. MR. KNOWLE (getting up). I don't want to hurry you, Mr. Mallory, but if you have really finished---- GERVASE (getting up). Right. MRS. KNOWLE. You won't go without seeing the garden, Mr. Mallory? Sandy, when your father has finished with Mr. Mallory, you must show him the garden. We are very proud of our roses, Mr. Mallory. Melisande takes a great interest in the roses. GERVASE. I should like very much to see the garden. (Going to her) Shall I see you again, Mrs. Knowle. . . . Don't get up, _please_. MRS. KNOWLE (getting up). In case we don't--(she holds out her hand). GERVASE (shaking it). Good-bye. And thank you so much. MRS. KNOWLE. Not good-bye. _Au revoir_. GERVASE (smiling). Thank you. (With a bow to JANE and BOBBY) Good-bye, in case---- BOBBY. Cheero. JANE. Good-bye, Mr. Mallory. MR. KNOWLE. Well, come along. (As they go out) It is curious how much time one has to spend in saying "How do you do" and "Good-bye." I once calculated that a man of seventy. . . . [MR. KNOWLE and GERVASE go out.] MRS. KNOWLE. Jane, dear, would you mind coming with me to the drawing-room, and helping me to--er---- JANE (resigned). Of course, Aunt Mary. [They go towards the door.] BOBBY (with his mouth full). May I come too, Mrs. Knowle? MELISANDE. You haven't finished your tea, Bobby. BOBBY. I shan't be a moment. (He picks up his cup.) MRS. KNOWLE. Please come, dear Mr. Coote, when you have finished. [MRS. KNOWLE goes out.] (JANE turns at the door, sees that MELISANDE is not looking, and blows a hasty kiss to BOBBY.) MELISANDE. More tea, Bobby? BOBBY. No thanks. MELISANDE. Something more to eat? BOBBY. No thanks. (He gets up and walks towards the door.) MELISANDE. Bobby! BOBBY (turning). Yes? MELISANDE. There's something I want to say to you. Don't go. BOBBY. Oh! Righto. (He comes slowly back.) MELISANDE (with difficulty, after a pause). I made a mistake yesterday. BOBBY (not understating). A mistake? Yesterday? MELISANDE. Yes. . . . You were quite right. BOBBY. How do you mean? When? MELISANDE. When you said that girls didn't know their own minds. BOBBY. Oh! (With an awkward laugh) Yes. Well--er--I don't expect any of us do, really, you know. I mean--er--that is to say---- MELISANDE. I'm sorry I said what I did say to you last night, Bobby. I oughtn't to have said all those things. BOBBY. I say, that's all right MELISANDE. I didn't mean them. And--and Bobby--I _will_ marry you if you like. BOBBY (staggered). Sandy! MELISANDE. And it was silly of me to mind your calling me Sandy, and to say what I did about your clothes, and I _will_ marry you, Bobby. And--and thank you for wanting it so much. BOBBY. I say, Sandy. I say! I say---- MELISANDE (offering her cheek). You may kiss me if you like, Bobby. BOBBY. I say! . . . Er--er--(he kisses her gingerly) thanks! . . . Er--I say---- MELISANDE. What is it, Bobby? BOBBY. I say, you know--(he tries again) I don't want you to--to feel that--I mean, just because I asked you twice--I mean I don't want you to feel that--well, I mean you mustn't do it just for _my_ sake, Sandy. I mean Melisande. MELISANDE. You may call me Sandy. BOBBY. Well, you see what I mean, Sandy. MELISANDE. It isn't that, Bobby. It isn't that. BOBBY. You know, I was thinking about it last night--afterwards, you know--and I began to see, I began to see that perhaps you were right. I mean about my not being romantic and--and all that. I mean, I'm rather an ordinary sort of chap, and---- MELISANDE (sadly). We are all rather ordinary sort of chaps. BOBBY (eagerly). No, no. No, that's where you're wrong, Sandy. I mean Melisande. You _aren't_ ordinary. I don't say you'd be throwing yourself away on me, but--but I think you could find somebody more suitable. (Earnestly). I'm sure you could. I mean somebody who would remember to call you Melisande, and who would read poetry with you and--and all that. I mean, there are lots of fellows---- MELISANDE. I don't understand. Don't you _want_ to marry me now? BOBBY (with dignity). I don't want to be married out of pity. MELISANDE (coldly). I have told you that it isn't out of pity. BOBBY. Well, what _is_ it out of? I mean, after what you said yesterday about my tie, it can't be love. If you really loved me---- MELISANDE. Are you under the impression that I am proposing to you? BOBBY (taken aback). W-what? MELISANDE. Are you flattering yourself that you are refusing me? BOBBY. I say, shut up, Sandy. You know it isn't that at all. MELISANDE. I think you had better join Jane. (Carelessly) It _is_ Jane, isn't it? BOBBY. I say, look here---- (She doesn't) Of course, I know you think I'm an awful rotter. . . . Well . . . well--oh, _damn_! MELISANDE. Jane is waiting for you. (MRS. KNOWLE comes in.) MRS. KNOWLE. Oh, Mr. Coote, Jane is waiting for you. BOBBY. Oh--er---- MELISANDE. Jane is waiting for you. BOBBY (realising that he is not quite at his best). Er--oh--er, righto. (He goes to the door and hesitates there) Er--(Now if he can only think of something really good, he may yet carry it off.) Er--(something really witty)--er--er, righto! (He goes out--to join JANE, who is waiting for him.) MRS. KNOWLE (in a soft gentle voice). Where is your father, dear? In the library with Mr. Mallory? . . . I want to speak to him. Just on a little matter of business. . . . Dear child! [She goes to the library. MELISANDE. Oh! How horrible! (She walks about, pulling at her handkerchief and telling herself that she won't cry. But she feels that she is going to, and she goes to the open windows, and stands for a moment looking out, trying to recover herself) (GERVASE comes in.) GERVASE (gently). Princess! (She hears; her hand closes and tightens; but she says nothing.) Princess! (With an effort she controls herself, turns round and speaks coldly) MELISANDE. Please don't call me by that ridiculous name. GERVASE. Melisande! MELISANDE. Nor by that one. GERVASE. Miss Knowle. MELISANDE. Yes? What do you want, Mr. Mallory? GERVASE. I want to marry you. MELISANDE (taken by surprise). Oh! . . . How dare you! GERVASE. But I told you this morning. MELISANDE. I think you had better leave this morning out of it. GERVASE. But if I leave this morning out of it, then I have only just met you. MELISANDE. That is what I would prefer. GERVASE. Oh! . . . Then if I have only just met you, perhaps I oughtn't to have said straight off that I want to marry you. MELISANDE. It is unusual. GERVASE. Yes. But not unusual to _want_ to marry you. MELISANDE. I am not interested in your wants. GERVASE. Oh! (Gently) I'm sorry that we've got to forget about this morning. (Going closer to her) Is it so easy to forget, Melisande? MELISANDE. Very easy for you, I should think. GERVASE. But not for you? MELISANDE (bitterly). You dress up and amuse yourself, and then laugh and go back to your ordinary life again--you don't want to remember _that_, do you, every time you do it? GERVASE. You let your hair down and flirt with me and laugh and go home again, but _you_ can't forget. Why should I? MELISANDE (furiously). How dare you say I flirted with you? GERVASE. How dare you say I laughed at you? MELISANDE. Do you think I knew you would be there when I went up to the wood? GERVASE. Do you think _I_ knew you would be there when _I_ went up? MELISANDE. Then why were you there all dressed up like that? GERVASE. My car broke down and I spent the night in it. I went up the hill to look for breakfast. MELISANDE. Breakfast! That's all you think about. GERVASE (cheerfully). Well, it's always cropping up. MELISANDE (in disgust). Oh! (She moves away from him and then turns round holding out her hand) Good-bye, Mr. Mallory. GERVASE (taking it). Good-bye, Miss Knowle. . . . (Gently) May I kiss your hands, Melisande? MELISANDE (pathetically). Oh, don't! (She hides her face in them.) GERVASE. Dear hands. . . . May I kiss your lips, Melisande? (She says nothing. He comes closer to her) Melisande! (He is about to put his arms round her, but she breaks away from him.) MELISANDE. Oh, don't, don't! What's the good of pretending? It was only pretence this morning--what's the good of going on with it? I thought you were so different from other men, but you're just the same, just the same. You talk about the things they talk about, you wear the clothes they wear. You were my true knight, my fairy Prince, this morning, and this afternoon you come down dressed like that (she waves her hand at it) and tell me that you are on the Stock Exchange! Oh, can't you see what you've done? All the beautiful world that I had built up for you and me--shattered, shattered. GERVASE (going to her). Melisande! MELISANDE. No, no! GERVASE (stopping). All right. MELISANDE (recovering herself). Please go. GERVASE (with a smile). Well, that's not quite fair, you know. MELISANDE. What do you mean? GERVASE. Well, what about _my_ beautiful world--the world that _I_ had built up? MELISANDE. I don't understand. GERVASE. What about _your_ pretence this morning? I thought you were so different from other women, but you're just the same, just the same. You were my true lady, my fairy Princess, this morning; and this afternoon the Queen, your mother, disabled herself by indigestion, tells me that you do all the housekeeping for her just like any ordinary commonplace girl. Your father, the King, has obviously never had a battle-axe in his hand in his life; your suitor, Prince Robert of Coote, is much more at home with a niblick than with a lance; and your cousin, the Lady Jane---- MELISANDE (sinking on to the sofa and hiding her face). Oh, cruel, cruel! GERVASE (remorsefully). Oh, forgive me, Melisande. It was horrible of me. MELISANDE. No, but it's true. How could any romance come into this house? Now you know why I wanted you to take me away--away to the ends of the earth with you. GERVASE. Well, that's what I want to do. MELISANDE. Ah, don't! When you're on the Stock Exchange! GERVASE. But there's plenty of romance on the Stock Exchange. (Nodding his head) Oh yes, you want to look out for it. MELISANDE (reproachfully). Now you're laughing at me again. GERVASE. My dear, I'm not. Or if I am laughing at you, then I am laughing at myself too. And if we can laugh together, then we can be happy together, Melisande. MELISANDE. I want romance, I want beauty. I don't want jokes. GERVASE. I see what it is. You don't like my knickerbockers. MELISANDE (bewildered). Did you expect me to? GERVASE. No. (After a pause) I think that's why I put 'em on. (She looks at him in surprise.) You see, we had to come back to the twentieth century some time; we couldn't go on pretending for ever. Well, here we are--(indicating his clothes)--back. But I feel just as romantic, Melisande. I want beauty--your beauty--just as much. (He goes to her.) MELISANDE. Which Melisande do you want? The one who talked to you this morning in the wood, or the one who--(bitterly) does all the housekeeping for her mother? (Violently) And badly, badly, badly! GERVASE. The one who does all the housekeeping for her mother--and badly, badly, badly, _bless_ her, because she has never realised what a gloriously romantic thing housekeeping is. MELISANDE (amazed). Romantic! GERVASE (with enthusiasm). Most gloriously romantic. . . . Did you ever long when you were young to be wrecked on a desert island? MELISANDE (clasping her hands). Oh yes! GERVASE. You imagined yourself there--alone or with a companion? MELISANDE. Often! GERVASE. And what were you doing? What is the romance of the desert island which draws us all? Climbing the bread-fruit tree, following the turtle to see where it deposits its eggs, discovering the spring of water, building the hut--_housekeeping_, Melisande. . . . Or take Robinson Crusoe. When Man Friday came along and left his footprint in the sand, why did Robinson Crusoe stagger back in amazement? Because he said to himself, like a good housekeeper, "By Jove, I'm on the track of a servant at last." There's romance for you! MELISANDE (smiling and shaking her head at him). What nonsense you talk! GERVASE. It isn't nonsense; indeed, indeed it isn't. There's romance everywhere if you look for it. _You_ look for it in the old fairy-stories, but did _they_ find it there? Did the gentleman who had just been given a new pair of seven-league boots think it romantic to be changed into a fish? He probably thought it a confounded nuisance, and wondered what on earth to do with his boots. Did Cinderella and the Prince find the world romantic after they were married? Think of the endless silent evenings which they spent together, with nothing in common but an admiration for Cinderella's feet--do you think _they_ didn't long for the romantic days of old? And in two thousand or two hundred thousand years, people will read stories about _us_, and sigh and say, "Will those romantic days never come back again?" Ah, they are here now, Melisande, for _us_; for the people with imagination; for you and for me. MELISANDE. Are they? Oh, if I could believe they were! GERVASE. You thought of me as your lover and true knight this morning. Ah, but what an easy thing to be! You were my Princess. Look at yourself in the glass--how can you help being a princess? But if we could be companions, Melisande! That's difficult; that's worth trying. MELISANDE (gently). What do you want me to do? GERVASE. Get used to me. See me in a top-hat--see me in a bowler-hat. Help me with my work; play games with me--I'll teach you if you don't know how. I want to share the world with you for all our lives. That's a long time, you know; we can't do it on one twenty-minutes' practice before breakfast. We can be lovers so easily--can we be friends? MELISANDE (looking at him gravely). You are very wise. GERVASE. I talked with a wise man in the wood this morning; I've been thinking over what he said. (Suddenly) But when you look at me like that, how I long to be a fool and say, "Come away with me now, now, now," you wonderful, beautiful, maddening woman, you adorable child, you funny foolish little girl. (Holding up a finger) Smile, Melisande. Smile! (Slowly, reluctantly, she gives him a smile.) I suppose the fairies taught you that. Keep it for _me_, will you--but give it to me often. Do you ever laugh, Melisande? We must laugh together sometimes--that makes life so easy. MELISANDE (with a happy little laugh). Oh, what can I say to you? GERVASE. Say, "I think I should like you for a companion, Gervase." MELISANDE (shyly). I think I should like you for a companion, Gervase. GERVASE. Say, "Please come and see me again, Gervase." MELISANDE. Please come and see me again, Gervase. GERVASE (Jumping up and waving his hand) Say, "Hooray for things!" MELISANDE (standing up, but shyly still). Hooray for things! GERVASE. Thank you, Melisande . . . I must go. (He presses her hand and goes; or seems to be going. But suddenly he comes back, bends on one knee, raises her hand on his, and kisses it) My Princess! [Then GERVASE goes out.] (MELISANDE stays there, looking after him, her hand to her cheek. . . . But one cannot stand thus for ever. The new life must begin. With a little smile at herself, at GERVASE, at things, she fetches out the Great Book from its hiding-place, where she had buried it many weeks ago in disgust. Now it comes into its own. She settles down with it in her favourite chair. . . .) MELISANDE (reading). To make Bread-Sauce. . . . Take an onion, peel and quarter it, and simmer it in milk. . . . (But you know how the romantic passage goes. We have her with it, curled up in the chair, this adorable child, this funny foolish little girl.) [THE END] _ |
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