Chapter IX: Part 9

MATTHEW. And you'm a coward, Joe Pengilly. [_Matthew clasps his hands round his raised knee and nods at Joe, who sits._] I've given you golden advice, and if only a pal had given it to me years ago I shouldn't be in the place I'm in now, but be master of my own wife and my own chimney-corner.

[_Joe puts his hands in his pockets and tilts back his chair as he
gazes up at the ceiling as if for inspiration._]

JOE. I cain't stomach the idea at all; it's like murderin' a baby, somehow.

MATTHEW. Stuff! You needn't lay on too hard to make bruises nor nothin'.

[_Joe goes pale and puts his head in his hands for a moment, and
he almost whispers._]

JOE. Good Lord! Bruises! Why, man, she've got flesh like a flower!

[_Matthew suddenly holds out his hand to Joe, who shakes it
feebly._]

MATTHEW. I almost envies thee, mate. Why, thee's fair daft wi' love still.

JOE. Of course I be! [_Sullenly._] She's more nor meat and drink to me; allus have been since the first I took to she.

MATTHEW. All the more reason to beat her, and at once. [_Sternly._] You'll lose her, sure enough, if you don't. It's the only chance for thee now, and I do knaw I'm speaking gospel truth.

[_A long pause, in which Joe meditates with a grave face. He
suddenly snaps the fingers of his right hand as he says quickly._]

JOE. I'll do it. It'll nearly be the finish of me, but if you're certain sure she'll love me more after it I'll shut my eyes and set my teeth and--and--yes, upon my soul, I'll do it! She'm more to me than all the world, and I'll save she and myself with her. But are you sure it will do any good?

[_Matthew wrings Joe's hands and then slaps him on the back._]

MATTHEW. I swear it, brother. [_Solemnly._] I've never once known it fail.

JOE [_anxiously_]. Never once in all your travels?

[_Matthew looks down._]

MATTHEW. Iss, mate, once, sure enough, but the woman had never cared twopence for the man to start with. After it she left 'un altogether.

JOE [_with a groan_]. Oh! Good Lord!

MATTHEW. That was no fair start like a thing. See?

JOE. No, to be sure.

MATTHEW. Now! [_He strikes Joe's shoulder briskly._] Now for it!

[_Joe twists round towards the door, and a miserable smile is on
his lips._]

JOE. Well, what now?

[_Matthew bends down to Joe's ear and whispers._]

MATTHEW. We must go and buy the cane.

JOE. Sakes!

MATTHEW. Bear up! It'll all be over by this time to-morrow night, and that's a great stand by, isn't it?

JOE. I suppose it is. [_Gloomily._] Who'll be spokesman over the buyin'?

MATTHEW. Me, my son. How far will 'e go i' price?

[_Joe shakes his head and looks wearily at Matthew._]

JOE. It's no odds to me, Matthey; I don't know and don't care!

MATTHEW. Will sixpence ruin 'e?

JOE. It's all ruin. I'm sweatin' like a bull with fear and shame, and wish I was dead and buried.

[_Matthew points to the door and the two men move slowly towards
it._]

MATTHEW. It's just on nine o'clock. Kezia will be back afore we start if we don't mind. Don't stop to think when you come back, but rush right in and set at it at once, and she'll have time to come round before you settle for the night. Bein' Saturday night, all the neighbors be mostly i' town shoppin', and if there should be a scream I'll make up a yarn to any one who comes near as 'll stop all gossip. I shan't be far off till I reckon it's all over.

[_Joe's teeth are set and his head down, and he gazes at the door
and then at Matthew, irresolutely._]

MATTHEW. Thee deserves to lose her if thee be real chicken-hearted like this 'ere.

[_Joe makes a dart forward, unlatches the door, rushes out
followed by Matthew._]

MATTHEW [_outside_]. Go round by the croft and then we shan't meet her coming home.

[_After a pause the door slowly opens and Kezia comes in. She has
a basket in one hand and a string bag full of parcels in the
other. She looks round, puts her parcels on the table and in the
cupboards, pokes the fire, and then takes her basket in her hand
again, looks at the clock and goes into the inner room. She comes
back with her outdoor garments off and a loose dressing-jacket of
white and blue linen over her arm. She goes to a drawer in the
table and brings out a little comb and brush and stands
thinking._]

KEZIA. I'll do my hair down here. He cain't be long, and it's cold upstairs. Gone for tobacco, I suppose, and he'll want his tea when he comes in.

[_She puts the kettle on the fire. She undoes her hair,
facing audience; shakes it about her shoulders, puts on her
dressing-jacket and begins to brush and comb her hair before the
fire, and near the settle she bends down and warms her hands,
singing a lullaby as she does so. She then stands facing the
fire, smiling to herself as she sings. So absorbed is she in her
thoughts that she does not see the street-door open and the white,
scared face of Joe appear. He puts his hands behind his back when
he has softly shut the door, and tip-toes towards Kezia, who never
sees him till he has sat down swiftly on the settle, the further
corner to where she stands. His left hand, with the cane in it,
is not visible to Kezia, as it is hidden by the end of the settle.
Tying a large plait on one side of her head--the nearest to
him--with pink ribbon, she suddenly turns round and sees him, and
their eyes meet. She sits down by him. Kezia's face is very sweet
and smiling as she tosses the plait over her shoulder._]

KEZIA. Seen a ghost, Joey, my dear, or is it Kezia come to her senses at last, think you?

[_Joe does not stir. He gazes at Kezia with a puzzled and tender
expression._]

JOE. What's come to thee, lass?

KEZIA. Guess!

[_Kezia clasps her hands behind her head and looks into Joe's face
with a happy smile._]

JOE. Cain't at all.

KEZIA. Come close, sweetheart.

[_She draws nearer to Joe, who does not move, and tries to keep
the cane hidden. He suddenly draws her close to him with his right
arm, and whispers._]

JOE. Kezia.

KEZIA [_softly_]. Joey, my dear! [_She nestles closer to him and puts her head on his shoulder._] He'll be the dearest little thing a woman ever bore.

[_Joe laughs softly, kisses Kezia gently on the eyes, brow, and
then month, and holds her closely to him._]

JOE. Heaven cain't be more desirable than this.

KEZIA. To think there'll be three of us soon. You see now why I've been so teasy lately. Now I'll sing all day long so he'll be a happy boy.

[_Joe does not move. He makes furtive attempts to hide the cane
behind the settle, and moves a little as he continues to smile at
Kezia._]

KEZIA. Thee'rt smiling, Joe! Thee and me 'ave both hungered for the same thing. Did thee guess it at all, I wonder? I've kept it from thee a while to make sure. But, lor'! my dear life! whatever be this that you've got here? [_She pulls the long cane out of Joe's hands and holds it in hers. They both look at it very solemnly for a few moments, and Joe scratches his head sadly, unable to speak. She bursts into a merry laugh and her lips tremble._] Eh! Joe! lad! [_softly._] Thee was always unlike other chaps; that's why I do love thee so. Fancy thee guessing, and going to buy him somethin' right away! [_She puts her face in her hands and sobs and laughs together._] Oh! it brings it so near like. Most men would have thought of a cradle or a rattle, but thee! Oh! my dear! [_She throws her arms round his neck and kisses him on the mouth._] Thee thought of the first beatin' we should be forced to give him, for, of course, he'll be a lad of tremenjous spirit.

JOE [_suddenly, and snatching the cane from Kezia._] So he will. Both his father and mother be folk of great spirit, and--the first time as he dirts the tablecloth or frets his mother, I'll lay it on him as, thanks be, I've never laid it on nobody yet.

[_Curtain._]

THE CONSTANT LOVER

A COMEDY OF YOUTH

BY ST. JOHN HANKIN

Copyright,
All rights reserved.

"_As of old when the world's heart was lighter._"

THE CONSTANT LOVER was first produced at the Royalty Theatre,
London, January 30, 1912, under the direction of Messrs. Vedrenne
and Eadie, with the following cast:

EVELYN RIVERS _Miss Gladys Cooper._
CECIL HARBURTON _Mr. Dennis Eadie._

Reprinted from "The Dramatic Works of St. John Hankin," by permission
of, and by special arrangement with, Mr. Mitchell Kennerley.

THE CONSTANT LOVER

A COMEDY BY ST. JOHN HANKIN

[_Before the curtain rises the orchestra will play the Woodland
Music (cuckoo) from "Hansel and Gretel" and possibly some of the
Grieg Pastoral Music from "Peer Gynt," or some Gabriel Faure._

SCENE: _A glade in a wood. About C. a great beech-tree, the
branches of which overhang the stage, the brilliant sunlight
filtering through them. The sky where it can be seen through the
branches is a cloudless blue._

_When the curtain rises Cecil Harburton is discovered sitting on
the ground under the tree, leaning his back against its trunk and
reading a book. He wears a straw hat and the lightest of gray
flannel suits. The chattering of innumerable small birds is heard
while the curtain is still down, and this grows louder as it
rises, and we find ourselves in the wood. Presently a wood pigeon
coos in the distance. Then a thrush begins to sing in the tree
above Cecil's head and is answered by another. After a moment
Cecil looks up._]

CECIL. By Jove, that's jolly! [_Listens for a moment, then returns to his book._]

[_Suddenly a cuckoo begins to call insistently. After a moment or
two he looks up again._]

Cuckoo too! Bravo! [_Again he returns to his book._]

[_A moment later enter Evelyn Rivers. She also wears the lightest
of summer dresses, as it is a cloudless day in May. On her head is
a shady straw hat. As she approaches the tree a twig snaps under
her foot and Cecil looks up. He jumps to his feet, closing book,
and advances to her, eagerly holding out his right hand, keeping
the book in his left._]

[_Reproachfully._] Here you are at last!

EVELYN. At last?

CECIL. Yes. You're awfully late! [_Looks at watch._]

EVELYN. Am I?

CECIL. YOU know you are. I expected you at three.

EVELYN. Why? I never said I'd come at three. Indeed, I never said I'd come at all.

CECIL. No.--But it's always been three.

EVELYN. Has it?

CECIL. And now it's half-past. I consider I've been cheated out of a whole half-hour.

EVELYN. I couldn't help it. Mother kept me. She wanted the roses done in the drawing-room.

CECIL. How stupid of Mrs. Rivers!

EVELYN. Mr. Harburton!

CECIL. What's the matter?

EVELYN. I don't think you _ought_ to call my mother stupid.

CECIL. Why not--if she is stupid? Most parents are stupid, by the way. I've noticed it before. Mrs. Rivers ought to have thought of the roses earlier. The morning is the proper time to gather roses. Didn't you tell her that?

EVELYN. I'm afraid I couldn't very well. You see it was really I who ought to have thought of the roses! I always do them. But this morning I forgot.

CECIL. I see. [_Turning towards the tree._] Well, sit down now you are here. Isn't it a glorious day?

EVELYN [_hesitating_]. I don't believe I ought to sit down.

CECIL [_turns to her_]. Why not? There's no particular virtue about standing, is there? I hate standing. So let's sit down and be comfortable.

[_She sits, so does he. She sits on bank under tree, left of it.
He sits below bank to right of tree._]

EVELYN. But _ought_ I to be sitting here with you? That's what I mean. It's--not as if I really _knew_ you, is it?

CECIL. Not _know_ me? [_The chatter of birds dies away._]

EVELYN. Not properly--we've never even been introduced. We just met quite by chance here in the wood.

CECIL. Yes. [_Ecstatically._] What a glorious chance!

EVELYN. Still, I'm sure mother wouldn't approve.

CECIL. And _you_ say Mrs. Rivers isn't stupid!

EVELYN [_laughing_]. I expect most people would agree with her. Most people would say you oughtn't to have spoken to a girl you didn't know like that.

CECIL. Oh, come, I only asked my way back to the inn.

EVELYN. There was no harm in asking your way, of course. But then we began talking of other things. And then we sat down under this tree. And we've sat under this tree every afternoon since. And that was a week ago.

CECIL. Well, it's such an awfully jolly tree.

EVELYN. I don't know _what_ mother would say if she heard of it!

CECIL. Would it be something unpleasant?

EVELYN [_ruefully_]. I'm afraid it would.

CECIL. How fortunate you don't know it then.

EVELYN [_pondering_]. Still, if I really _oughtn't_ to be here.... Do _you_ think I oughtn't to be here?

CECIL. I don't think I should go into that if I were you. Sensible people think of what they want to do, not of what they _ought_ to do, otherwise they get confused. And then of course they do the wrong thing.

EVELYN. But if I do what I oughtn't, I generally find I'm sorry for it afterwards.

CECIL. Not half sorry as you would have been if you hadn't done it. In this world the things one regrets are the things one hasn't done. For instance, if I hadn't spoken to you a week ago here in the wood I should have regretted it all my life.

EVELYN. Would you?

[_He nods._]

Really and truly?

CECIL [_nods_]. Really and truly.

[_He lays his hand on hers for a moment, she lets it rest there.
Cuckoo calls loudly once or twice--she draws her hand away._]

EVELYN. There's the cuckoo.

[_Cecil rises and sits up on bank R. of her, leaning against
tree._]

CECIL. Yes. Isn't he jolly? Don't you love cuckoos?

EVELYN. They _are_ rather nice.

CECIL. Aren't they! And such clever beggars. Most birds are fools--like most people. As soon as they're grown up they go and get married, and then the rest of their lives are spent in bringing up herds of children and wondering how on earth to pay their school-bills. Your cuckoo sees the folly of all that. No school-bills for _her_! No nursing the baby! She just flits from hedgerow to hedgerow flirting with other cuckoos. And when she lays an egg she lays it in some one else's nest, which saves all the trouble of housekeeping. Oh, a wise bird!

EVELYN [_pouting, looking away from him_]. I don't know that I _do_ like cuckoos so much after all. They sound to me rather selfish.

CECIL. Yes. But so sensible! The duck's a wise bird too in her way. [_She turns to him._] But _her_ way's different from the cuckoo's. [_Matter-of-fact._] She always _treads_ on _her_ eggs.

EVELYN. Clumsy creature!

CECIL. Not a bit. She does it on purpose. You see, it's much less trouble than _sitting_ on them. As soon as she's laid an egg she raises one foot absent-mindedly and gives a warning quack. Whereupon the farmer rushes up, takes it away, and puts it under some wretched hen, who has to do the sitting for her. I call that genius!

EVELYN. Genius!

CECIL. Yes. Genius is the infinite capacity for making other people take pains.

EVELYN. How can you say that?

CECIL. I didn't. Carlyle did.

EVELYN. I don't believe he said anything of the kind. And I don't believe ducks are clever one bit. They don't look clever.

CECIL. That's part of their cleverness. In this world if one _is_ wise one should look like a fool. It puts people off their guard. That's what the duck does.

EVELYN. Well, I think ducks are horrid, and cuckoos, too. And I believe most birds _like_ bringing up their chickens and feeding them and looking after them.

CECIL. They do. That's the extraordinary part of it. They spend their whole lives building nests and laying eggs and hatching them. And when the chickens come out the father has to fuss round finding worms. And the nest's abominably over-crowded and the babies are perpetually squalling, and that drives the husband to the public house, and it's all as uncomfortable as the Devil--

EVELYN. Mr. Harburton!

CECIL. Well, _I_ shouldn't like it. In fact, I call it fatuous.

[_Evelyn is leaning forward pondering this philosophy with a slightly puckered brow--a slight pause_]. I say, _you_ don't look a bit comfortable like that. Lean back against the tree. It's a first-rate tree. That's why I chose it.

EVELYN [_tries and fails_]. I can't. My hat gets in the way.

CECIL. Take it off then.

EVELYN. I think I will. [_Does so._] That's better. [_Leans back luxuriously against the trunk; puts her hat down on bank beside her._]

CECIL. Much better. [_Looks at her with frank admiration._] By Jove, you _do_ look jolly without your hat!

EVELYN. Do I?

CECIL. Yes. Your hair's such a jolly color. I noticed it the first time I saw you. You had your hat off then, you know. You were walking through the wood fanning yourself with it. And directly I caught sight of you the sun came out and simply flooded your hair with light. And there was the loveliest pink flush on your cheeks, and your eyes were soft and shining--

EVELYN [_troubled_]. Mr. Harburton, you mustn't say things to me like that.

CECIL. Mustn't I? Why not? Don't you like being told you look jolly?

EVELYN [_naively_]. I do _like_ it, of course. But _ought_ you...?

CECIL [_groans_]. Oh, it's _that_ again.

EVELYN. I mean, it's not _right_ for men to say those things to girls.

CECIL. I don't see that--if they're true. You _are_ pretty and your eyes _are_ soft and your cheeks--why, they're flushing at this moment! [_Triumphant._] Why shouldn't I say it?

EVELYN. Please!... [_She stops, and her eyes fill with tears._]

CECIL [_much concerned_]. Miss Rivers, what's the matter? Why, I believe you're crying!

EVELYN [_sniffing suspiciously_]. I'm ... not.

CECIL. You are, I can see the tears. Have I said anything to hurt you? What is it? Tell me. [_Much concerned._]

EVELYN [_recovering herself by an effort_]. It's nothing, nothing really. I'm all right now. Only you won't say things to me like that again, will you? Promise. [_Taking out handkerchief._]

CECIL. I promise ... if you really wish it. And now dry your eyes and let's be good children. That's what my nurse used to say when my sister and I quarreled. Shall I dry them for you? [_Takes her handkerchief and does so tenderly._]

EVELYN [_with a gulp_]. Thank you. [_Takes away handkerchief._] How absurd you are! [_Puts it away._]

CECIL. Thank _you_!

[_Evelyn moves down, sitting at bottom of bank, a little below
him._]

EVELYN. Did you often quarrel with your sister?

CECIL. Perpetually. _And_ my brothers. Didn't you?

EVELYN. I never had any.

CECIL. Poor little kid. You must have been rather lonely.

EVELYN [_matter-of-fact_]. There was always Reggie.

CECIL. Reggie?

EVELYN. My cousin, Reggie Townsend. He lived with us when we were children. His parents were in India.

CECIL [_matter-of-fact_]. So he used to quarrel with you instead.

EVELYN [_shocked_]. Oh no! We _never_ quarreled. At least, Reggie never did. _I_ did sometimes.

CECIL. How dull! There's no good in quarreling if people won't quarrel back.

EVELYN. I don't think there's any good in quarreling at all.

CECIL. Oh, yes, there is. There's the making it up again.

EVELYN. Was that why you used to quarrel with your sister?

CECIL. I expect so, though I didn't know it, of course--then. I used to tease her awfully, I remember, and pull her hair. She had awfully jolly hair. Like yours--oh! I forgot, I mustn't say that. Used you to pull Reggie's hair?

EVELYN [_laughing_]. I'm afraid I did sometimes.

CECIL. I was sure of it. How long was he with you?

EVELYN. Till he went to Winchester. And of course he used to be with us in the holidays after that. And he comes to us now whenever he can get away for a few days. He's in his uncle's office in the city. He'll be a partner some day.

CECIL. Poor chap!

EVELYN. _Poor_ chap! Mother says he's very _fortunate_.

CECIL. She would. Parents always think it very fortunate when young men have to go to an office every day. I know mine do.

EVELYN. _Do_ you go to an office every day?

CECIL. No.

EVELYN [_with dignity_]. Then I don't think you can know much about it, can you?

CECIL [_carelessly_]. I know too much. That's why I don't go.

EVELYN. What _do_ you do?

CECIL. I don't do anything. I'm at the Bar.

EVELYN. If you're at the Bar, why are you down here instead of up in London working?

CECIL. Because if I were in London I might possibly get a brief. It's not likely, but it's possible. And if I got a brief I should have to be mugging in chambers, or wrangling in a stuffy court, instead of sitting under a tree in the shade with you.

EVELYN. But _ought_ you to waste your time like that?

CECIL [_genuinely shocked_]. _Waste_ my time! To sit under a tree--a really nice tree like this--talking to you. You can call that _wasting time_!

EVELYN. Isn't it?

CECIL. No! To sit in a frowsy office adding up figures when the sky's blue and the weather's heavenly, _that's_ wasting time. The only real way in which one can waste time is not to enjoy it, to spend one's day blinking at a ledger and never notice how beautiful the world is, and how good it is to be alive. To be only making money when one might be making love, _that_ is wasting time!

EVELYN. How earnestly you say that!

[_Cecil leans forward--close to her._]

CECIL. Isn't it true?

EVELYN [_troubled_]. Perhaps it is. [_Looks away from him._]

CECIL. You know it is. Every one knows it. Only people won't admit it. [_Leaning towards her and looking into her eyes._] You know it at this moment.

EVELYN [_returning his gaze slowly_]. I think I do.

[_For a long moment they look into each other's eyes. Then he
takes her two hands, draws her slowly towards him and kisses her
gently on the lips._]

CECIL. Ah! [_Sigh of satisfaction. He releases her hands and leans back against the tree again._]

EVELYN [_sadly_]. Oh, Mr. Harburton, you _oughtn't_ to have done that!

CECIL. Why not?

EVELYN. Because.... [_Hesitates._] Because you _oughtn't_.... Because men _oughtn't_ to kiss girls.

CECIL [_scandalized_]. Oughtn't to kiss girls! What nonsense! What on earth were girls made for if not to be kissed?

EVELYN. I mean they _oughtn't_ ... unless.... [_Looking away._]

CECIL [_puzzled_]. Unless?

EVELYN [_looking down_]. Unless they _love_ them.

CECIL [_relieved_]. But I _do_ love you. Of course I love you. That's why I kissed you.

[_A thrush is heard calling in the distance._]

EVELYN. Really? [_Cecil nods. Evelyn sighs contentedly._] That makes it all right then.

CECIL. I should think it did. And as it's all right I may kiss you again, mayn't I?

EVELYN [_shyly_]. If you like.

CECIL. You darling! [_Takes her in his arms and kisses her long and tenderly._] Lean your head on my shoulder, you'll find it awfully comfortable. [_He leans back against the tree._] [_She does so._] There! Is that all right?

EVELYN. Quite. [_Sigh of contentment._]

CECIL. How pretty your hair is! I always thought your hair lovely. And it's as soft as silk. I always knew it would be like silk. [_Strokes it._] Do you like me to stroke your hair?

EVELYN. Yes!

CECIL. Sensible girl! [_Pause; he laughs happily._] I say, what am I to call you? Do you know, I don't even know your Christian name yet?

EVELYN. Don't you?

CECIL. No. You've never told me. What is it? Mine's Cecil.

EVELYN. Mine's Evelyn.

CECIL. Evelyn? Oh, I don't like Evelyn. It's rather a _stodgy_ sort of name. I think I shall call you Eve. Does any one else call you Eve?

EVELYN. No.

CECIL. Then I shall certainly call you Eve. After the first woman man ever loved. May I?

EVELYN. If you like--Cecil.

CECIL. That's settled then.

[_He kisses her again. Pause of utter happiness, during which he
settles her head more comfortably on his shoulder, and puts arm
round her._]

Isn't it heavenly to be in love?

EVELYN. Heavenly!

CECIL. There's nothing like it in the whole world! Say so.

EVELYN. Love is the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

CECIL. Good girl! There's a reward for saying it right. [_Kisses her._]

[_Pause of complete happiness for both._]

EVELYN [_meditatively_]. I'm afraid Reggie won't be pleased.

[_The chatter of sparrows is heard._]

CECIL [_indifferently_]. Won't he?

EVELYN [_shakes her head_]. No. You see, Reggie's in love with me too. He always has been in love with me, for years and years. [_Sighs._] Poor Reggie!

CECIL. On the contrary. Happy Reggie!

EVELYN [_astonished_]. What _do_ you mean?

CECIL. To have been in love with you years and years. _I've_ only been in love with you a week.... I've only known you a week.

EVELYN. I'm afraid Reggie didn't look at it like that.

CECIL [_nods_]. No brains.

EVELYN. You see, I always refused _him_.

CECIL. Exactly. And he always went on loving you. What more could the silly fellow want?

EVELYN [_shyly, looking up at him_]. He _wanted_ me to accept him, I suppose.

[_The bird chatter dies away._]

CECIL. Ah!... Reggie ought to read Keats's "Ode to a Grecian Urn."... I say, what jolly eyes you've got! I noticed them the moment we met here in the wood. That was why I spoke to you.

EVELYN [_demurely_]. I thought it was to ask your way back to the inn.

CECIL. That was an excuse. I knew the way as well as you did. I'd only just come from there. But when I saw you with the sunshine on your pretty soft hair and lighting up your pretty soft eyes, I said I _must_ speak to her. And I did. Are you glad I spoke to you?

EVELYN. Yes.

CECIL. Glad and glad?

EVELYN. Yes.

CECIL. Good girl! [_Leans over and kisses her cheek._]

EVELYN [_sigh of contentment; sits up_]. And now we must go and tell mother.

CECIL [_with a comic groan_]. Need we?

EVELYN [_brightly_]. Of course.

CECIL [_sigh_]. Well, if _you_ think so.

EVELYN [_laughing_]. You don't seem to look forward to it much.

CECIL. I don't. That's the part I always hate.

EVELYN. _Always?_ [_Starts forward and looks at him, puzzled._]

CECIL [_quite unconscious_]. Yes. The going to the parents and all that. Parents really are the most preposterous people. They've no feeling for _romance_ whatever. You meet a girl in a wood. It's May. The sun's shining. There's not a cloud in the sky. She's adorably pretty. You fall in love. Everything heavenly! Then--why, I can't imagine--she wants you to tell her mother. Well, you do tell her mother. And her mother at once begins to ask you what your profession is, and how much money you earn, and how much money you have that you don't earn--and that spoils it all.

EVELYN [_bewildered_]. But I don't understand. You talk as if you had actually done all this before.

CECIL. So I have. Lots of times.

EVELYN. Oh! [_Jumps up from the ground and faces him, her eyes flashing with rage._]

CECIL. I say, don't get up. It's not time to go yet. It's only four. Sit down again.

EVELYN [_struggling for words_]. Do you mean to say you've been in love with girls before? _Other_ girls?

CECIL [_apparently genuinely astonished at the question_]. Of course I have.

EVELYN. And been engaged to them?

CECIL. Not engaged. I've never been engaged so far. But I've been in love over and over again.

[_Evelyn stamps her foot with rage--turning away from him._]

My dear girl, what _is_ the matter? You look quite cross. [_Rises._]

EVELYN [_furious_]. And you're not even _ashamed_ of it?

CECIL [_roused to sit up by this question_]. Ashamed of it? Ashamed of being in love? How can you say such a thing! Of course I'm not ashamed. What's the good of being alive at all if one isn't to be in love? I'm perpetually in love. In fact, I'm hardly ever out of love--with somebody.

EVELYN [_still furious_]. Then if you're in love, why don't you get engaged? A man has no business to make love to a girl and not be engaged to her. It's not right.

CECIL [_reasoning with her_]. That's the parents' fault. I told you parents were preposterous people. They won't allow me to get engaged.

EVELYN. Why not?

CECIL. Oh, for different reasons. They say I'm not _serious_ enough. Or that I don't work enough. Or that I haven't got enough money. Or else they simply say they "don't think I'm fitted to make their daughter happy." Anyhow, they won't sanction an engagement. They all agree about _that_. Your mother would be just the same.

[_Impatient exclamation from Evelyn._]

I don't blame her. I don't say she's not right. I don't say they haven't all been right. In fact, I believe they _have_ been right. I'm only explaining how it is.

EVELYN [_savagely_]. I see how it is. You don't really want to be married.

CECIL. Of course I don't _want_ to be married. Nobody does unless he's perfectly idiotic. One wants to be in love. Being in love's splendid. And I dare say being engaged isn't bad--though I've had no experience of that so far. But being married must be simply hateful.

EVELYN [_boiling with rage_]. Nonsense! How can it be hateful to be married if it's splendid to be in love?

[_The cuckoo is heard._]

CECIL. Have you forgotten the cuckoo?

EVELYN. Oh!!!

CECIL. No ties, no responsibilities, no ghastly little villa with children bellowing in the nursery. Just life in the open hedgerow. Life and love. Happy cuckoo!

EVELYN [_furious_]. I think cuckoos detestable. They're mean, horrid, _disgusting_ birds.

CECIL. No. No. I can't have you abusing cuckoos. They're particular friends of mine. In fact, I'm a sort of cuckoo myself.

EVELYN [_turning on him_]. Oh, I hate you! I hate you! [_Stamps her foot._]

CECIL [_with quiet conviction_]. You don't.

EVELYN. I do!

CECIL [_shaking his head_]. You don't. [_Quite gravely._] One never really hates the people one has once loved.

[_He looks into her eyes. For a moment or two she returns his gaze
fiercely. Then her eyes fall and they fill with tears._]

EVELYN [_half crying_]. How horrid you are to say that!

CECIL. Why?

EVELYN. Because it's true, I suppose. Ah, I'm so unhappy! [_Begins to cry._]

CECIL [_genuinely distressed_]. Eve! You're crying. You mustn't do that. I can't bear seeing people cry. [_Lays hand on her shoulder._]

EVELYN [_shaking it off_]. Don't. I can't bear you to touch me. After falling in love with one girl after another like that. When I thought you were only in love with me.

CECIL. So I am only in love with you--now.

EVELYN [_tearfully_]. But I thought you'd never been in love with any one else. And I let you call me Eve because you said she was the first woman man ever loved.

CECIL. But I never said she was the only one, did I? [_Argumentatively._] And one can't help being in love with people when one _is_ in love, can one? I couldn't _help_ falling in love with you, for instance, the moment I saw you. You looked simply splendid. It was such a splendid day too. _Of course_ I fell in love with you.

EVELYN [_slightly appeased by his compliment, drying her eyes_]. But you seem to fall in love with such a lot of people.

CECIL. I do. [_Mischievously._] But ought _you_ to throw stones at me? After all, being in love with more than one person is no worse than having more than one person in love with you. How about Reggie?

EVELYN. Reggie? [_The sparrows' chatter starts again._]

CECIL [_nods_]. Reggie's in love with you, isn't he? So am I. And both at once too! I'm only in love with one person at a time.

EVELYN [_rebelliously_]. I can't help Reggie being in love with me.

CECIL. And I can't help _my_ being in love with you. That's just my point. I knew you'd see it.

EVELYN. I don't see it at all. Reggie is quite different from you. Reggie's love is true and constant....

CECIL. Well, I'm a _constant_ lover if you come to that.

EVELYN. You aren't. You know you aren't.

CECIL. Yes, I am. A constant lover is a lover who is constantly in love.

EVELYN. Only with the same person.

CECIL. It doesn't say so. It only says constant.

EVELYN [_half-laughing_]. How ridiculous you are! [_Turns away._]

CECIL [_sigh of relief_]. That's right. Now you're good-tempered again.

EVELYN. I'm not.

CECIL. What a story!

EVELYN. I'm not. I'm very, _very_ angry.

CECIL. That's impossible. You can't possibly be angry and laugh at the same time, can you? No one can. And you _did_ laugh. You're doing it now.

[_She does so unwillingly._]

So don't let's quarrel any more. It's absurd to quarrel on such a fine day, isn't it? Let's make it up, and be lovers again.

[_The sparrows die away._]

EVELYN [_shaking her head_]. No.

CECIL. Please!

EVELYN [_shaking her head_]. No.

CECIL. Well, you're very foolish. Love isn't a thing to throw away. It's too precious for that. Love is the most beautiful thing in the whole world. You said so yourself not ten minutes ago.

EVELYN. I didn't. You said it. [_Looking down._]

CECIL. But you said it after me. [_Gently and gravely._] Eve, dear, don't be silly. Let's be in love while we can. Youth is the time to be in love, isn't it? Soon you and I will be dull and stupid and middle-aged like all the other tedious people. And then it will be too late. Youth passes so quickly. Don't let's waste a second of it. They say the May-fly only lives for one day. He is born in the morning. All the afternoon he flutters over the river in the sunshine, dodging the trout and flirting with other May-flies. And at evening he dies. Think of the poor May-fly who happens to be born on a wet day! The tragedy of it!

EVELYN [_softly_]. Poor May-fly.

CECIL. There! You're sorry for the May-fly, you see. You're only angry with me.

EVELYN. Because you're not a May-fly.

CECIL. Yes, I am. A sort of May-fly.

EVELYN [_with suspicion of tears in her voice_]. You aren't. How can you be? Besides, you said you were a cuckoo just now.

CECIL. I suppose I'm a cuckoo-May-fly. For I _hate_ wet days. And if you're going to cry again, it might just as well be wet, mightn't it? So do dry your eyes like a good girl. Let me do it for you. [_Does it with her handkerchief._]

[_She laughs ruefully._]

There, that's better. And now we're going to be good children again, aren't we?

CECIL [_holding out hand_]. And you'll kiss and be friends?

EVELYN. I'll be friends, of course. [_Sadly._] But you must never kiss me again.

CECIL. What a shame! Why not?

EVELYN. Because you mustn't.

CECIL [_cheerfully_]. Well, you'll sit down again anyhow, won't you? just to show we've made it up. [_Moves towards tree._]

EVELYN [_shakes head_]. No.

CECIL [_disappointed; turns_]. A.... Then you haven't really made it up.

EVELYN. Yes, I have. [_Picks up her hat._] But I must go now. Reggie's coming down by the five o'clock train, and I want to be at the station to meet him. [_Holds out hand._] Good-by, Mr. Harburton.

CECIL [_taking hand_]. Eve! You're going to accept Reggie! [_Pause._]

EVELYN [_half to herself_]. I wonder.

CECIL. And he'll have to tell your mother?

EVELYN. Of course.

CECIL [_drops her hand_]. Poor Reggie! So _his_ romance ends too!

EVELYN. It won't! If I marry Reggie I shall make him very happy.

CECIL. Very likely. Marriage may be happiness, but I'm hanged if it's romance!

EVELYN. Oh! [_Exclamation of impatience._]

[_She turns away and exits R._]

[_Cecil watches her departure with a smile half-amused,
half-pained, till she is long out of sight. Then with half a sigh
turns back to his tree._]

CECIL [_re-seating himself_]. Poor Reggie! [_Re-opens his book and settles himself to read again._]

[_A cuckoo hoots loudly from a distant thicket and is answered by
another. Cecil looks up from his book to listen as the curtain
falls._]

[_Curtain._]

THE JUDGMENT OF INDRA

A PLAY
BY DHAN GOPAL MUKERJI

Copyright, 1920, by Stewart & Kidd Company.
All rights reserved.

The professional and amateur stage rights of this play are strictly
reserved by the author, to whose dramatic representative, Frank Shay,
in care Stewart & Kidd Co., Cincinnati, Ohio, applications for
permission to produce it should be made.

THE JUDGMENT OF INDRA

A PLAY BY DHAN GOPAL MUKERJI

[TIME: _The Fifteenth Century._]

[PLACE: _A Monastery on one of the foothills of Himalaya._]

[SCENE: _In the foreground is the outer court of a Monastery. In
the center of the court is a sacred plant, growing out of a small
altar of earth about two feet square. On the left of the court is
a sheer precipice, adown which a flight of stone steps--only a few
of which are visible--connects the Monastery with the village in
the valley below._

_To the right are the temple and the adobe walls and the roof of
the monastery cells. There is a little space between the temple
and the adobe walls, which is the passage leading to the inner
recesses of the monastery. Several steps lead to the doors of the
temple, which give on the court. In the distance, rear, are the
snowy peaks of the Himalayas, glowing under the emerald sky of an
Indian afternoon. To the left, the distances stretch into vast
spaces of wooded hills. Long bars of light glimmer and die as the
vast clouds, with edges of crimson, golden and silver, spread
portentously over the hills and forest._

_A roll of thunder in the distance, accompanies the rise of the
curtain._]

SHANTA. [_He is reading a palm-leaf manuscript near the Sacred Plant. He looks up at the sky._] It forbodes a calamity.

[_Suddenly the Temple doors open. Shukra stands framed in the
doorway. Seeing that Shanta is alone, Shukra walks down the steps
toward him._]

SHUKRA. Are you able to make out the words?

SHANTA. Aye, Master.

SHUKRA. Where is Kanada?

SHANTA. He will be here presently. Listen, master: it sayeth: "Only a hair's breadth divides the true from the false. Upon him who by thought, word or deed confuses the two, will descend the Judgment of Indra."

SHUKRA. The thunder of Indra is just. It will strike the erring and the unrighteous no matter where they hide themselves; in the heart of the forest or in the silence of the cloisters, Indra's Judgment will descend on them. Even the erring heart that knows not that it is erring will be smitten and chastised by Indra. [_Thunder rumbles in the distance._]

SHANTA. Master, when you speak, you not only fill the heart with ecstasy, but also the soul with the beauty of truth.

SHUKRA. To praise is good. But why praise me, who have yet to find God and,--[_Shakes his head sadly._]

SHANTA. You will find Him soon; your time is nigh.

SHUKRA. I wish it were true.

SHANTA. Master, if there be anything that I can do for you. If I could only lighten your burden a little,--

SHUKRA. Thou hast done that already. All the cares of the monastery thou hast taken from me. Thou hast bound me to thee by bonds of gratitude that can never break. [_Enter Kanada._] Ah, Kanada, how be it with you to-day? [_Coming to him._]

KANADA. [_He is a lad of twenty and two._] By your blessing I am well and at peace. Have you finished your meditation?

SHUKRA. [_Sadly._] Nine hours have I meditated, but--I shall say the prayers now. [_Enters the temple and shuts the door._]

KANADA. He seems not to be himself.

SHANTA. When he is in meditation for a long time, he becomes another being.

KANADA. There is sadness in his eyes.

SHANTA. How can he be sad,--he who has risen above joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, hate and love?

KANADA. Above love, too?

SHANTA. Yea, hate and love being opposite, are Maya, illusion!

KANADA. Yet we must love the world.

SHANTA. Yea, that we do to help the world.

KANADA. The Master is tender to the villagers even if they lead the worldly life.

SHANTA. We be monks. We have broken all the ties of the world, even those of family, so that we can bestow our thoughts, care and love upon all the children of God. Our love is impartial. [_The thunder growls in the distance._]

KANADA. Yea, that is the truth. Yet I think the Master loves thee more than any other.

SHANTA. Nay, brother. He loves no one more than another. I have been with him ten years; that makes him depend on me. But if the truth were known,--he loves none. For he loves all. Indra, be my witness: the Master loveth no one more than another.

KANADA. Ah, noble-souled Master! Yet I feel happy to think that he loveth thee more than any.

SHANTA. He loves each living creature. He is not as the worldly ones who love by comparison--this one more, the other less. Last night, as the rain wailed without like a heart-broken woman, how his voice rose in song of light and love! He is one of God's prophets, and a true singer of His praise.

KANADA. I can hear him yet.

SHANTA. I will never forget the ineffable joy that glowed in his words. Only he who has renounced all ties, can speak with such deep and undying love. No anxiety--

KANADA. It was that of which I would speak to thee. Dost thou not see sadness and anxiety in the Master's face?

SHANTA. He is deep in thought--naught else.

KANADA. Ever since that message was brought him the other day, he has seemed heavy hearted. It was melancholy tidings.

SHANTA. Nay, that message had naught to do with him. [_Thunder growls. The Temple doors open. Shukra comes out of the Temple and shuts the doors behind him. Then he stands still in front of the Temple._]

SHUKRA. [_Calling._] Kanada.

KANADA. Yea, Master. [_He goes up to Shukra, who gives him some directions. Kanada exits; Shukra stands looking at the sky._]

SHANTA. How wonderful a vision he is! As he stands at the threshold of the temple he seems like a new God, another divinity come down to earth to lead the righteous on to the realms celestial. Ah, Master, how grateful am I to have thee as my teacher! I thank Brahma for giving thee to me.

[_Enter Kanada. Shukra then walks to Shanta, with Kanada following
him._]

KANADA. Master, all is ready.

SHUKRA. Go ye to the village; ask them if all be well with them. When the heavens are unkind--ah, if it rains another day all the crops will be destroyed. What will they live on? No, no, it cannot be. Go ye both down to them and take them my blessings: Tell them we will make another offering to Indra to-night. It must not rain any more.

SHANTA. Bring out begging bowls, Kanada.

KANADA. Shall I bring the torches, too? [_Crossing._]

SHUKRA. The clouds may hide the moon; yea, the torches, too. [_Kanada exits R._]

SHUKRA. Yea. [_Thunder growls above head._] The storm grows apace. I hope thou wilt find shelter ere it breaks. [_A short silence._] The world is growing darker and darker each day. Sin and Vice are gathering around it like a vast coiling Serpent. We monks be the only ones that can save it and set it free. Shanta, be steadfast; strengthen me. Help me to bring the light to the world. Thou art not only my disciple, but my friend and brother. [_He embraces Shanta._] Save me from the world.

KANADA. [_Entering._] Here be--[_Stops in surprise._]

SHUKRA. [_Releasing Shanta._] Come to me, Kanada. [_The latter does so, Shukra putting an arm around Kanada's neck._] Little Brother--

KANADA. [_Radiantly._] Master--

SHUKRA. Be brave and free--free from the delusions of this world, Sansara. Go yet to the village; take them our blessings! Hari be with them all! May ye return hither safely. [_Thunder and lightning._] Ah, Lord Indra!--Look, it is raining yonder. Go, hasten--

SHANTA. [_Taking a begging bowl and torch from Kanada._] Come!

SHUKRA. [_Putting his hands on their heads._] I bless ye both. May Indra protect ye--[_the rest of his words are drowned by the lightning flash and peal of thunder_].

[_The two disciples intone_: "OM Shanti OM." _They go down the
steps._]

SHUKRA. May this storm pass. OM Shiva. Shiva love you, my Shanta. For ten long years he has been with me; he has greatly helped me in my search after Him who is the only living Reality. To-day I am nearer God--I stand at the threshold of realization. I seem to feel that it will not be long before the Veil will be lifted and I shall press my heart against the heart of the ultimate mystery--Who comes there? [_Listens attentively_]. They cannot have gone and come back so soon. Ha! another illusion! These days I am beset by endless illusions. Perhaps that betokens the end of my search, as the gloom is always thickest ere the dawn. Yea, after this will come the Light; I will see God! [_Hears a noise; listens attentively._] Are they already returning? [_Calling._] Shanta! [_He crosses and looks down. Thunder rolls very loudly now. He does not heed that. Suddenly he recoils in agitation. Footsteps are heard from below, rising higher and higher. Shukra rubs his eyes to make sure that he has really seen something that is not an illusion. He goes forward a few steps. The head of an old man rises into view, Shukra is stupefied; walks backwards until his back touches the Sacred plant. He stands still. The old man at last climbs the last step. He has not noticed Shukra. He looks at the Himalayas in the rear. Then his eyes travel over the monastery walls--Now suddenly they catch sight of Shukra._]

SHUKRA. What seek ye here?

OLD MAN [_eyeing him carefully_]. Ah, Shukra! dost thou not recognize thine aged father? [_He goes to Shukra with outstretched arms._]

SHUKRA. I have no father.

OLD MAN. But I am thy father. Did not my messenger come the other day? [_Silence._] Did he lie to me? Dost thou not know thy mother is--

SHUKRA. Thy messenger came.

OLD MAN. Then come thou home at once. There is not time to be lost. Come, my son, ere thy mother leaves this earth.

SHUKRA. I cannot go.

OLD MAN. Thou canst not go? Dost thou not know that thy mother is on her death-bed?

SHUKRA. I have renounced the world. For twelve years I have had no father, nor mother.

OLD MAN. Thou didst leave us, but we did not renounce thee. And now thou shouldst come.

SHUKRA. I told thy messenger that I have no father nor mother,--I cannot come.

OLD MAN. I heard it all. If you art born of us, thou canst not have a heart of stone? Come, my son: I, thy father, implore thee.

SHUKRA. Nay, nay; God alone is my father.

OLD MAN. Hath it not been said in the scriptures that thy parents are thy God? Thy father should be obeyed.

SHUKRA. That was said by one who had not seen the Truth, the Light.

OLD MAN. I command thee in the name of the Scriptures.

SHUKRA. God alone can command me.

OLD MAN. Vishnu protect me! Art thou dreaming, my child? Yonder lies thy mother, fighting death,--

SHUKRA. I have heard it all.

OLD MAN. And yet thou wilt not go?

SHUKRA. Nay, father, I cannot go. The day I took the vow of a monk, that day I cut the bond that binds me to you all. I must be free of all ties. I must love none for myself that I may love all for God. Here I must remain where God has placed me, until He calls me elsewhere.

OLD MAN. But thy mother lies, fighting with each breath. She wishes to see thee.

SHUKRA. I cannot come.

OLD MAN. But thou must.

SHUKRA. I would if I could; but my life is in the hands of God.

OLD MAN [_mocking_]. God! Thy life belongs to God? Who gave thee life? Not God, but she who lies there dying; what ingratitude! This, indeed, is the age of darkness; sons are turning against their fathers,--and killing their own mother.

SHUKRA [_quietly_]. I may not love one more than another; my steps, as my heart, go whither God guides them.

OLD MAN [_mocking_]. Truth is thy witness?

SHUKRA. May Indra himself punish me if I love one more than another. Hear me, Indra. [_The roll of thunder above._]

OLD MAN [_in desperation_]. Come, my son, in the name of thine own God I pray to thee, come to thy mother. I kneel at thy feet and beg for this boon. [_He does so._]

SHUKRA [_raising him to his feet. He puts his own head down on the old man's feet._]

OLD MAN. Then thou comest? [_Shukra rises to his feet._]

SHUKRA [_hesitating_]. There is a law in the Sacred books that says an ascetic should see the place of his birth every twelfth year.

OLD MAN. And it is twelve years now since thou didst renounce us! Ah! blessed be the law.

SHUKRA. Yet, father, if I go, I go not in obedience to the law, but since the desire to see my mother is uppermost in me, I who dreamt not of the law hitherto--yea, now I hasten to abide by the law. Ah, what mockery! It is not the letter of the law, but the spirit in us that judges us sinners or saints. Now if I go with thee to obey the law, that would be betraying the law.

OLD MAN. Betraying the law!

SHUKRA. Thought alone is the measure of our innocence. He who thinks evil is a doer of evil indeed. Nay, nay, tempt me not with the law. I must remain here. I must keep my vow. [_He looks up to heaven; it is covered with enormous black clouds._]

OLD MAN. The law is not written in the heavens. It is inscribed in the heart of man. Obey the dictates of thy heart.

SHUKRA. God alone shall be obeyed. I cannot betray His command. I, who am an ascetic, must not yield to the desire to see my mother--Nay! God--

OLD MAN. What manner of God is He that deprives a dying mother of her son? Such a God never was known in Hindu life. No such God lives, nor breathes. [_Thunder and lightning._]

SHUKRA. Erring Soul, do not blaspheme your creator. He is the God of Truth--God of Love.

OLD MAN [_disdainfully_]. God of Love,-- How can He be God of Love if He dries up the stream of thy heart and blinds thy reason as the clouds blind the eyes of the Sun? Nay, thou liest. It is not the God of Love, but the God of thine insane self--self-love that makes thee rob thy mother of her only joy in life. I--yea, I will answer to God for thee. If, by coming to see thy mother, thou sinnest, I ask God to make me pay for thy sin. Come, obey thy father,--I will take the burden of thy sin, if sin it be.

SHUKRA. Nay, each man pays for his sins as each man reaps the harvest of his own good deeds. None can atone for another. Ah, God! cursed be the hour when I was born. Cursed,--

OLD MAN [_angrily_]. Thou cursest thy birth?

SHUKRA. Yea, to be born in this world of woe is a curse indeed.

OLD MAN. Then curse thy tormented mind and thy desolate heart; curse not,--

SHUKRA. Nay, I curse the hour that saw me come to this earth of delusion and Maya. I do curse,--

OLD MAN. Thou dost dare curse the hour when thou wert born! Ah, vile sinner! To curse the hour of thy birth when thy mother is dying! God be my witness, he has incurred his father's wrath. Now,--no God can save thee.

SHUKRA. Nay, nay,--