Chapter III: Act III

_It is 11.30 next morning._ ANGELA _is at the writing-desk, busy
with a few letters_. IMOGEN _appears noiselessly at the window.
She looks round the room, and then disappears again._ BATTERSBY
_comes in from the dining-room_.

BATTERSBY. We all seem very late this morning. Has the Prince _had_ breakfast?

ANGELA. I sent it round to the studio. I thought he’d prefer a Continental one.

BATTERSBY. Probably the one thing he looked forward to was a welter of eggs and bacon. You’ve given him quite a wrong idea of our old English customs.

ANGELA. He can have eggs and bacon for lunch, if he’s very keen. Have you seen him?

BATTERSBY. I borrowed him a razor from Ainslie, and I also took him some clothes.

ANGELA. Clothes----I forgot about that.

BATTERSBY. I don’t say he’ll be beautiful, but he’ll be decent.

ANGELA. You’d better send over for his bag, and find out about the Oliver man.

BATTERSBY. I suggested it, but he asked me to wait. He’s a little uncertain about his plans. He said something about a letter.... I suppose the post _has_ come?

ANGELA. Yes.

BATTERSBY (_without much hope_). Nothing for me, I suppose?

ANGELA. No.

BATTERSBY. I thought not. The number of people who sit down every morning and say “I don’t think I’ll write to Battersby to-day” is positively startling. There must be well over forty million of ’em in England alone.

ANGELA. He couldn’t get a letter here anyway.

BATTERSBY. The Prince? I should be very much annoyed if he did. It would be very disconcerting if a man who stayed here accidentally for one night got a letter, and I who have stayed here on purpose for years and years got none.... I suppose the paper hasn’t come?

ANGELA. No, not yet. I’ll speak to Lumley. He’s getting slack again.

BATTERSBY. There ought to be _some_ method of getting in touch with the outside world. How would it be to have _The Times_ sent down by post every day, and then it wouldn’t matter if the Lumley boy were going for a whistle in this direction or not?

ANGELA. If you like, dear.

BATTERSBY. Besides, it would give the postman more respect for me, if he saw my name now and then. I met him in the garden yesterday as he was bringing up the letters. There were three for you, two for Emily, four for cook and a seed-catalogue for James. I passed it off with a careless laugh, but I could see what he was thinking (_He looks over his shoulder, and sees her writing_).... Give my love to whoever it is, and say that I should dearly appreciate a post-card----

ANGELA. It’s Debenham and Freebody.

BATTERSBY (_unmoved_). ----from either of them.

(_The_ PRINCE _comes in. He is wearing an old coat and a pair of
white flannel trousers of_ BATTERSBY’S. _He has shaved off his
moustache._)

PRINCE. Good morning to you. What a charming day!

BATTERSBY. Good morning, Prince.

ANGELA (_getting up_). Oh, good morning. I do hope you slept well, and all that?

PRINCE. The bed couldn’t have been more comfortable.... I had forgotten that there were so many birds in the country.

ANGELA. We’re used to them, of course.

BATTERSBY. But the silly things don’t realise it, and go on just the same. (_The_ PRINCE _turns to him_) Hallo! I say! I hope that that razor----

PRINCE (_nodding_). It was carried away. It has shaved the good doctor so often, that before I knew what had happened----

BATTERSBY. We must tell Ainslie. As a scientific man, he’ll be interested.

ANGELA. I like it. It makes you look more English.

PRINCE. That was why I did it, Mademoiselle. The only compliment to your country I could think of so early in the morning. The birds were whistling and singing, the sun was shining, and I said to myself, “I love England! I shall stay here for ever. I shall be an Englishman.” So I had what you call the clean shave.

BATTERSBY (_fingering his beard_). It isn’t _absolutely_ essential.

PRINCE (_with a bow_). The full beard or nothing, as in your English navy. (_With a gesture at_ BATTERSBY’S) If only it had been possible--(_regretfully_)--but there was no time.

BATTERSBY (_in a whisper_). You see, dear, he would have liked eggs and bacon.

PRINCE. So now I am an Englishman.... I think of calling myself Brown.

ANGELA (_smiling_). Prince Brown.

PRINCE. Or shall I give myself the honourable, if not strictly beautiful, title of Mister?

BATTERSBY. What would Neo-Slavonia say to that?

PRINCE. Well, that’s the question.

ANGELA. Will the country go to pieces without you?

PRINCE (_solemnly_). I fear it might.... But don’t let me interrupt your letters, Mademoiselle. I shall be quite happy with the paper. (_He picks it up._)

BATTERSBY. It’s a piece of yesterday’s, I’m afraid.

PRINCE. I shall be quite happy with a piece of yesterday’s paper.

BATTERSBY. There’s a small boy called Lumley whose duty it is to forget to bring the paper every day. He is amazingly reliable. So I generally go down about this time and fetch it for myself. If you don’t mind----

ANGELA. Go on, Father. You’ll never be happy till you’ve seen it.

BATTERSBY (_with dignity_). To some women the fact that anybody should be interested in activities outside his own household will always be one of the more impenetrable mysteries. (_He goes out with an air._)

PRINCE. Miss Battersby is interested, however.

ANGELA. In some things.

PRINCE. In some people.

ANGELA (_smiling_). In two people.... (_Looking at her watch_) You won’t go till she comes?

PRINCE. I will stay until then, if I may. (_He also looks at his watch, and then says, a little anxiously_) This little boy of whom Mr. Battersby talks----

ANGELA. Lumley?

PRINCE. Yes. He is unreliable?

ANGELA. Very, I’m afraid.

PRINCE. You ask him to do something, and he goes off bird’s-nesting, or fishing?

ANGELA. Rather like that.

PRINCE. However, there are perhaps other little boys in the village not so unreliable?

ANGELA. I expect they’re all pretty much the same.

PRINCE. Oh!... (_We have another momentary glimpse of_ IMOGEN _at the window_).... But I mustn’t interrupt you. This piece of yesterday’s paper is full of good things.

ANGELA (_addressing the envelope_). I’ve just finished.

(AINSLIE _appears at the door_.)

AINSLIE. May I come in?

ANGELA (_over her shoulder_). Hallo! Come in.

AINSLIE. Good morning. Good morning, Prince Michael.

PRINCE. Good morning, doctor. Still here, you see.

AINSLIE. I was sorry to have to hurry off last night, and so, hearing what had happened, I thought I would look in and make my apologies and good-byes this morning.

PRINCE. How charming of you. (_Smiling_) And a Republican, too!

AINSLIE. My manners are without prejudice to my convictions.

ANGELA. We’re hoping that perhaps it won’t be good-bye just yet.

AINSLIE. Oh, I’m glad. Jennifer gave me to understand that I should just have time to catch the Prince before he went.

PRINCE. How thoughtful of Mrs. Bulger.

ANGELA (_getting up, letters in hand_). You won’t fight if I leave you alone for a moment?

PRINCE (_feeling_ AINSLIE’S _biceps_). No. I promise.

ANGELA. As long as you don’t whistle the Neo-Slavonian national anthem, or anything provocative like that, he’ll be all right.

[_She goes out._

AINSLIE. I’m afraid I shouldn’t recognise it.... (_Awkwardly_) I don’t know the etiquette, but may I lean against a table or something?

PRINCE (_solemnly_). I think I should lean first. (_He does so_) There!

AINSLIE (_leaning too_). Thank you. (_He begins to fill his pipe_) You won’t mind my saying that I wish I hadn’t met you?

PRINCE. If you won’t mind my asking why.

AINSLIE. I like keeping my prejudices intact. Are you the only Prince with a sense of humour, or have I been wrong all these years?

PRINCE. Isn’t it against all medical etiquette for a doctor to be wrong?

AINSLIE. There you are! You’ve no business to say things like that. (_Preparing to light his pipe_) Do we smoke?

PRINCE. We smoke. (_He picks up one of_ BATTERSBY’S _pipes, and holds it in his hand until_ AINSLIE’S _pipe is alight. Then he solemnly puts it down again._)

AINSLIE. Thank you.... Curious thing about that young Oliver. Have you heard any more this morning?

PRINCE. We are sending over to the hotel for news. We may hear something at any moment. (_He looks at his watch._)

AINSLIE. I suppose you knew all about him?

PRINCE. Does one ever know all about anybody?

AINSLIE. I was thinking of his medical record.

PRINCE (_tapping his head_). He had an accident a few years ago.

AINSLIE. Ah! Concussion?

PRINCE. I imagine so. A stray bullet--on the Indian frontier, I understand. Such an accident might cause complete loss of memory and so forth, I suppose?

AINSLIE. Undoubtedly.

PRINCE. Thank you. (_Pretending to hand him money_) Your fee.

AINSLIE (_laughing_). Will you appoint me court doctor?

PRINCE. Gladly.

AINSLIE. I shall look forward to it. Meanwhile there’s a good deal to do in the village. Do we move?

PRINCE. We move. (_They move towards the door._)

AINSLIE. I’m glad that we’re not losing you just yet. (_Looking into the garden_) You weren’t playing hide-and-seek in the garden just before I came?

PRINCE. No, Mr. Battersby had one or two things to do.

AINSLIE. I thought I saw----But I daresay it was nothing. _Au revoir_, then.

[_He goes out._

PRINCE. _Au revoir._

(_He settles down to his paper...._ IMOGEN _appears again, and
seeing that he is alone, whistles cautiously. He takes no notice.
She whistles again--and again._)

IMOGEN (_in a loud whisper_). I say!

PRINCE (_looking round_). Hallo!... Miss Imogen! (_He gets up._)

IMOGEN. Are you alone?

PRINCE. Utterly. (_He comes to her._)

IMOGEN. I say, you’ve shaved off your moustache!

PRINCE (_feeling his face_). So I have.

IMOGEN. May I come in?

PRINCE. May I conduct you in? (_He gives her his hand and leads her in._)

IMOGEN (_giggling_). I say, what fun!

PRINCE (_smiling_). Isn’t it?

IMOGEN. You and me.

PRINCE. Us.... Was that you whistling?

IMOGEN. Yes.

PRINCE. It wasn’t you whistling outside the studio this morning from about four o’clock till nine?

IMOGEN. Not as long as that. I did whistle a bit.

PRINCE. Yes.... Now tell me. You did what I asked you?

IMOGEN. Rather! That’s why I wanted to see you. Just to tell you I had.

PRINCE. Good!

IMOGEN. The boy is going to bring it up in about five minutes. That’s right, isn’t it?

PRINCE. Perfect.... It isn’t a boy called Lumley, I suppose?

IMOGEN. Yes, it is. Why?

PRINCE. Oh, nothing.... You’re sure you can trust him?

IMOGEN. I’m sure I _can’t_ trust him. And I told him so. And I’m going to watch him do it, and he doesn’t get the sixpence until I’ve seen him do it.

PRINCE (_admiringly_). What an ally to have! (_He holds out his hand_) Shake!

IMOGEN (_shaking it_). Oh, I say! (_Shyly_) I say?

PRINCE (_anxiously_). You aren’t going to cry again? (_She shakes her head._) Well?

IMOGEN. That sixpence you gave me to give him.

PRINCE (_anxiously_). It was a good one?

IMOGEN. Oo, rather! But would you mind if I gave him another one of my own instead? (_Shyly_) Because ... because....

PRINCE (_smiling_). I wish you would, Imogen. And the other will be your lucky sixpence?

IMOGEN (_nodding_). ’M. And you’re not going now, are you?

PRINCE. I think now I shall be able to stay.

IMOGEN. Is that why you shaved? So your enemies shouldn’t know you?

PRINCE. Something like that. It’s a symbol.

IMOGEN. Of what?

PRINCE. Victory, I hope....

IMOGEN (_suddenly_). What’s that?

PRINCE. What was it?

(_They listen._)

IMOGEN. I must fly. At any moment we might be discovered alone together.

PRINCE. True. And there is also Lumley’s boy to be watched.

IMOGEN. Oo, I say, I’d forgotten him. Good-bye, Prince Michael! (_He holds out his hand. Romantically she goes on one knee and kisses it. Then she goes off--crying again._)

PRINCE. The darling! (_He returns to his paper.... And soon_ JENNIFER _is at the door_.)

PRINCE (_without looking round_). _I_ make it five minutes to twelve.

JENNIFER. So you _are_ still here?

PRINCE (_getting up_). You gave me till noon.

JENNIFER. How did you know it was me?

PRINCE. What a silly question to ask! Of course I knew it was you! (_He turns to her._)

JENNIFER. Michael!

PRINCE. What?

JENNIFER. Nothing. Why did you--(_with a wave of the hand_)--do that?

PRINCE. Do what?

JENNIFER. Shave your moustache.

PRINCE. I didn’t. That wasn’t _my_ moustache. It was Prince Michael Robolski’s.

JENNIFER (_eagerly_). You mean you’ve told Angela? She knows?

PRINCE. That I’m an--inventor?

JENNIFER. That you--yes. That we’re both inventors.

PRINCE. My dear Jennifer, how could I? Think how awkward it would be for all of you! The things you all said to me last night! I couldn’t be so cruel.

JENNIFER. Then go away now--and nobody need ever know.

PRINCE (_like a small boy_). But I don’t _want_ to go! I like Wych Trentham. I like Mr. Battersby. I like Miss Angela. I like the Doctor. I like Miss Faithfull.... I like Jennifer.

JENNIFER. One or the other, Michael.

PRINCE. The Doctor has just been up to say good-bye to me. The poor man was in tears. I daresay you met Miss Faithfull. She has just been up to say good-bye to me. The poor girl was in hysterics. Mr. Battersby, struggling with his emotions, lent me these trousers. He has now gone to buy me a paper. They all love me.

JENNIFER. Everybody loves a Prince.

PRINCE. Except Jennifer.

JENNIFER. They won’t love plain Michael Brown.

PRINCE. And yet he is a very lovable man really.

JENNIFER. Well, do you go or stay?

PRINCE (_smiling_). I’ll toss you for it. Heads I stay, tails I remain. (_He tosses_) It’s tails. I remain. I remain, yours very sincerely, Michael Robolski.

JENNIFER. Then I tell Angela.

(ANGELA _comes in, a letter in her hand_.)

ANGELA. Hallo, darling!... Where’s the doctor?

PRINCE. Gone. We embraced, and I gave him the Order of the Leopard, Fifth Class.

ANGELA. I’ve got a hundred things to do, so I’ll leave you to amuse each other. (_To the_ PRINCE) You’re staying to lunch, aren’t you?

PRINCE (_with a look at_ JENNIFER). Please.

ANGELA. Good. (_To_ JENNIFER) You’d better, too, darling.

JENNIFER. Angela, dear, wait a moment.

PRINCE (_looking at his watch_). I make it _two_ minutes to twelve. (_To_ JENNIFER) I beg your pardon, I thought you asked me the time.

ANGELA. What is it? I really _am_ busy. (_To the_ PRINCE) Oh, this letter has just come for you.

PRINCE (_relieved_). Ah! Thank you. Is it permitted?

ANGELA. Of course. (_The_ PRINCE _opens his letter._)

JENNIFER. Wait a moment, dear. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.

ANGELA. Exciting?

JENNIFER. It is rather.

PRINCE (_who is reading his letter_). Pardon! You would wish me to withdraw?

JENNIFER. I would wish you to stay.

PRINCE (_bowing_). May I just----(_he indicates the letter, and finishes it_) Good! (_He takes a deep breath_) At last! (_To_ JENNIFER) Now I am at your service, Madame.

JENNIFER. Angela, Prince Michael----

PRINCE. Just a moment, if I may interrupt you. You called me Prince Michael. I cannot leave you under that misapprehension any longer. Miss Battersby! My lips at last are unsealed. (_In his English voice_) I am _not_ Prince Michael!

ANGELA (_casually_). Why not?

PRINCE (_with dignity_). I am trying to explain. (_Tapping his letter_) At last I am at liberty to speak. I owe you the most sincere apology. You thought you were entertaining Prince Michael Robolski of Neo-Slavonia last night. In a sense you were. But it was not I.

ANGELA. What do you mean?

PRINCE. I was only the humble secretary. He who called himself James Oliver was the real Prince.

JENNIFER. Oh!

PRINCE. You are surprised?

JENNIFER (_recovering_). Just for the moment.

ANGELA. So you’re an Englishman after all?

PRINCE. Certainly. Three months ago the Prince engaged me as his secretary. I asked him what were my duties. He said, “To grow a moustache and listen.” For a month I grew a moustache and listened, while he talked to me about Neo-Slavonia. In the end I felt that I knew the country even better than he did. Then he said, “Now if we go to a place where we are both unknown, can you pretend to be Prince Michael, while I pretend to be his secretary?”

ANGELA. Why?

PRINCE (_not knowing_). Why?

JENNIFER. Yes, why?

PRINCE. Why? That was what I said. Why? He gave reasons, political reasons, which would sound stupid to you if I repeated them now, but to one who understood Neo-Slavonian politics as I did, were very, very--er, very.

ANGELA. Where was this?

PRINCE. Where was it?

JENNIFER. Yes, where was it?

PRINCE. Where was it?... In a little seaport town called Bratsk. The--Cromer of Neo-Slavonia.

ANGELA. But I thought Neo-Slavonia had no coast-line.

JENNIFER (_eagerly_). Yes!

PRINCE (_reproachfully_). One small pier and a group of bathing-machines do not constitute a coast-line.

ANGELA. I beg your pardon.

JENNIFER. Silly of us.

ANGELA. Well?

PRINCE. We went to Monte Carlo--I as the Prince, he as my secretary. Every now and then he would disappear. It was not my business to follow him. I am engaged to grow a moustache, not to search for footprints. One day he takes me to England. “Very soon now,” he says, “we shall be able to reveal the truth.”

ANGELA (_smiling_). And so, very soon now, you are going to?

PRINCE (_with dignity_). I am doing it at this moment. He gives me permission in this letter. (_He taps the letter_) He also gives me my wages--(_he holds up the notes_)--instead of a month’s notice. I am my own master again.... And out of a job.

ANGELA. And that’s that?

PRINCE (_with a sigh of mental exhaustion_). That, roughly speaking, is that.

ANGELA. Well, I’m glad one of you was the Prince. I don’t know what Mrs. Faithfull would say if there had never been a Prince at all.

JENNIFER. There wasn’t.

PRINCE. Ha!

ANGELA. How do you mean, darling?

JENNIFER. There is no such country as Neo-Slavonia.

PRINCE. Ha again.

ANGELA (_calmly_). Darling, how _can_ you know that?

JENNIFER. Have you ever seen it on the map?

ANGELA. Have you ever seen Czecho-Slovakia on the map?

PRINCE (_aside_). Or Maida Vale.

ANGELA. Or Maida Vale?

JENNIFER. No.

ANGELA. Well!

PRINCE. Well!

JENNIFER. Well, I wasn’t certain either. So this morning I telegraphed to a friend in the Foreign Office.

ANGELA. But would _he_ know?

PRINCE. How could _he_ know?

JENNIFER (_displaying telegram_). Here is his answer. (_She gives it to Angela_) I said, “Where is Neo-Slavonia?” He replies----

ANGELA (_reading_). “Never heard of it.” Well, of course, it mightn’t be in his department. (_Handing back the telegram_) I don’t think that that’s conclusive.

PRINCE. I don’t think that’s at all conclusive.

JENNIFER. My dear, I _know_ that there isn’t such a country.

ANGELA. I don’t see how you _can_ know.

PRINCE. I don’t see how any one can _know_.

ANGELA. You might suspect. (_To_ PRINCE) What do _you_ think?

PRINCE (_automatically_). What do _you_ think? I mean, What do _I_ think?

ANGELA. Well?

PRINCE (_after thought_). I believe Mrs. Bulger is right.

JENNIFER. Thank you.

ANGELA. But how----

PRINCE. I believe that he had made it all up.

ANGELA. But I thought you said you had actually been in Neo-Slavonia with him?

JENNIFER. Bratsk--the local Cromer.

PRINCE (_with dignity_). You go to a town--how do you know who the town belongs to? If he says it is a Neo-Slavonian town, why should I doubt him? I am engaged as a secretary, not as a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society. (_To_ ANGELA). Yes, the more I think about it, the more I feel that he made it all up. (_Triumphantly_) And that’s why he disappeared so suddenly last night--without even saying good-bye. He saw that Mrs. Bulger was suspicious. (_Sadly_) Yes, I feel sure now that the Prince was an impostor. Don’t you agree with me, Mrs. Bulger?

JENNIFER. Entirely.

PRINCE (_to_ ANGELA). You see, Mrs. Bulger agrees with me entirely. I wonder what his game was. It may have been just pure love of adventure. I shouldn’t care to think too hardly of him.... Miss Battersby, how can I apologise for having brought this on you?

ANGELA. Mr. Oliver, it has been a privilege to listen to you.

JENNIFER. Oliver? (_To the_ PRINCE _with a friendly smile_) Of course! Oliver.

PRINCE (_puzzled_). Oliver?

JENNIFER. Your name. You changed names with the Prince.

PRINCE (_recovering gallantly_). Not names. Identities.

ANGELA. Why not names?

JENNIFER. Why not names?

PRINCE (_wondering_). Well----

ANGELA. You took his--why didn’t he take yours?

JENNIFER. Why didn’t he take yours?

PRINCE. This is really rather embarrassing.

JENNIFER (_catching his eye_). Yes, I can see how embarrassing it is.

PRINCE (_suddenly_). Can you? Well, if you can’t now, you will directly. Miss Battersby, the Prince refused to take my name. He said, “No, I cannot take that horrible name.”

ANGELA. Why?

PRINCE (_impressively_). Because my name is--Bulger!

JENNIFER (_staggered_). Oh!

PRINCE. You are surprised again?

JENNIFER. Just for another moment.

PRINCE BULGER (_to_ JENNIFER). I have sometimes wondered if we are relations? (_To_ ANGELA). You remember how interested I was when you first told me your friend’s name? I wondered then.

ANGELA. Jennifer’s husband was a General in the Indian Army.

PRINCE (_eagerly_). Really? How odd! Not James?

JENNIFER (_weakly_). James.

PRINCE. How very curious!

ANGELA. Did you know him?

PRINCE. I _am_ James Bulger of the Indian Army.

JENNIFER. No, no!

PRINCE (_quickly_). Or am I not? You see, Miss Battersby, I was knocked out rather badly in a small frontier skirmish--by a stray bullet--left for dead, captured by the advancing enemy. When I came to myself, my memory had gone. I remembered nothing. Not even my own identity. A flask in my possession with the name James Bulger on it and the simple inscription “Presented by a few old friends of the Hammersmith Temperance Association” was my only clue. But was it my own flask, or had James Bulger lent it to me? I shall never be certain. For at times I have had a curious feeling that my real name is--(_he looks at_ JENNIFER)--Brown.

ANGELA. It sounds very likely. A lot of people are called Brown.

PRINCE. Is that so? (_To_ JENNIFER) In that case you must permit me to return your husband’s flask to you.

JENNIFER (_weakly_). Thank you. You haven’t it on you?

PRINCE. And if you will be so very kind as to talk to me a little about him, it may be that you will strike some responsive chord in my memory, and set it vibrating.

ANGELA (_getting up_). That’s a good idea. And when you’re quite certain who you’re going to be, you must let me know. Anyway, you’ll stay to lunch? I think you’ve earned it.

PRINCE. It is charming of you to have me.

ANGELA (_graciously_). Not at all. The excitement is ours.

[_She goes out._

JENNIFER. Well, Michael? (_She sits down._)

PRINCE (_triumphantly_). Well, Jennifer? (_He sits next to her. She turns away, and he turns away. They talk, back to back._)

JENNIFER (_reluctantly_). You’re very clever.

PRINCE. Aren’t I?

JENNIFER. Naturally you’ve had a good deal of practice.

PRINCE. Naturally.

JENNIFER. I suppose you feel you’ve gained something by it all?

PRINCE. Lunch--anyway. If I had let myself be exposed by you, I shouldn’t have had lunch.

JENNIFER. Oh, if you’re as hungry as that----

PRINCE. I am afraid you haven’t realised the extraordinary delicacy with which I have handled the matter?

JENNIFER. I hadn’t, no.

PRINCE. You see, I wasn’t sure what you wanted. Did you want to go on being the wife of General Bulger? If so, here I am, your long-lost husband, Bulger, miraculously restored to you. Did you want to confess the truth, that you are really Mrs. Michael Brown? Here am I, the only original Michael Brown. Or do you want to marry again, and try another name? Here am I, still at your service, prepared to remember that my name is--whatever you most fancy. (_Proudly_) Very few people could have been as tactful as that.

JENNIFER. But how considerate of you!

PRINCE (_modestly_). I am that sort of man.

JENNIFER. You seem to have provided for everything.

PRINCE. I tried to.

JENNIFER. And yet there was one possibility you overlooked.

PRINCE. Good Heavens, what?

JENNIFER. In your extraordinary delicacy you didn’t allow for the fact that I might want to be left alone.

PRINCE (_looking at his watch_). For how long?

JENNIFER (_a little crossly_). What do you mean, for how long? When a woman says that she wants to be left alone, you don’t ask her for how long.

PRINCE. Why not?

JENNIFER. I don’t know why not. One doesn’t. It’s a ridiculous question. Naturally, I mean that I want to be left alone for ever.

PRINCE. I see. You mean till you’re about ninety.

JENNIFER. No, I don’t. I wasn’t thinking about being ninety.

PRINCE. Good! Then what about eighty-nine? Suppose I drop in on your eighty-ninth birthday----

JENNIFER. I shall not be at home.

PRINCE. Not if I came in the afternoon--with a few flowers?

JENNIFER (_coldly_). I want to be left alone.

PRINCE. By me--or by everybody?

JENNIFER. By you. By everybody in the way you’re talking about. I don’t propose to marry again.

PRINCE (_gently_). It was I who was proposing.

JENNIFER. Then I am not open to offers of marriage.

PRINCE. Well, if you won’t marry again, will you live with either of your two previous husbands?

JENNIFER. No.

PRINCE. You refuse?

JENNIFER. Absolutely.

PRINCE. You’re very difficult to please.

JENNIFER. No, I’m not. I’m very easy to please. I only want you to go away.

PRINCE (_reproachfully_). After all the trouble I’ve taken?

JENNIFER. Go away.

PRINCE. It is a little hard on a man ... who has been travelling for years ... in an unknown country ... to come back to his wife, and to find that--like Penelope ... no, not like Penelope ... well, it’s a little hard.

JENNIFER. I should keep Penelope out of it, if I were you.

PRINCE. I was trying to.

JENNIFER. When Ulysses left her, he did at least give her some idea when he was coming back.

PRINCE. But what a wrong idea! “Back at Christmas,” he said cheerfully, and it was twenty years before he saw her again.

JENNIFER. She knew what he was doing, anyhow.

PRINCE. Rescuing Helen, the most beautiful creature in the world. That would be a great comfort to any woman.

JENNIFER. I don’t want to argue about it.

PRINCE. I went away in a much better cause than Ulysses. If you had read the right sort of stories when you were young you would have realised that, metaphorically speaking, you and I were in a sledge, pursued by a pack of wolves over the snowy steppes of Siberia. Ivan Ivanovitch, our faithful Cossack driver, flogs the fast-wearying horses; from time to time I empty my revolver into the advancing hordes and force them to stop and eat each other; all to no purpose. And then, when I make the supreme sacrifice by hurling myself into the midst of the ravening pack, what happens? I am blamed because I left the sledge suddenly, and forgot to say, “Back on the 25th.”

JENNIFER. I don’t think that that is a perfect parallel.

PRINCE. According to Einstein there are no perfect parallels. But I’m doing my best. (_He gets up_) I’m doing my best. (_She looks away_) Jenny! (_She has her hand to her ear, arranging the hair above it. He seizes her wrist--and then suddenly talks down her ear, as if it were a telephone, using her hand as the receiver_) Hallo, is that the exchange? I want Jenny. One in a million ... Jenny, one in one double 0, double 0, double 0.... Yes.... Hallo, Jenny, is that you?... Guess!... No.... No.... I say, what swell people you know!... Shall I tell you?... Michael.... Don’t you remember Michael? The ugly fellow who was always grousing because he couldn’t get a job.... Yes. Casual sort of fellow.... It’s him ... he.... Oh, much the same.... I suppose you wouldn’t let him come down to your village, and just _look_ at you occasionally.... Oh, I don’t know. He could sit behind you at church or something.... Oh, don’t you? Then it’s quite time you did.... You _wouldn’t_ care about it?... Oh!... Oh, I just wondered. I expect you’re right. (_He hangs up the receiver and walks away, whistling carelessly, to the writing-desk, where he sits down and begins to write._)

JENNIFER (_after watching him for a little_). What are you doing?

PRINCE. Making my will, and leaving everything to you, of course.

JENNIFER. Oh, are you shooting yourself?

PRINCE. Obviously.

JENNIFER. I thought you made a will when we first got married.

PRINCE (_annoyed_). Can’t I do it again if I want to?

JENNIFER. Of course. But I thought I got the money anyhow? Even if you died--what’s the word? Rather a horrid one----

PRINCE. “Suddenly.”

JENNIFER. Intestate. (_To herself as if commenting on a man who has died of this unfortunate complaint_) So painful, poor fellow!

PRINCE (_fiercely_). Good heavens, if a man can’t make a remorseful will just before shooting himself, life becomes utterly impossible.

JENNIFER. I beg your pardon.

PRINCE. I’m sorry. Naturally I am a little on edge.

JENNIFER (_after a pause--to herself_). _Four_ “s’s” in “possessed.” Some people only put three.

PRINCE. In my last moments I propose to allow myself perfect liberty in the matter.

JENNIFER (_after a pause_). Which would be the best solicitor to go to? My own or yours?

PRINCE. I leave that to you. (_Looking upwards_) I shall never meet either of them again.... (_Looking downwards_) At least, I hope not.

JENNIFER (_after a pause_). Michael!

PRINCE. H’sh, h’sh!

JENNIFER. Michael!

(_He doesn’t answer. She trills like a telephone bell._)

PRINCE. Damn that telephone. (_She rings again_) Oh, Lord! (_He gets up and goes to her, putting his left hand to her mouth, and her right hand to his ear._)

JENNIFER. Hallo!... Hallo!... Oh, is that Prince Michael of Neo-Slavonia?... Yes! However did you guess?... Really?... A little bit older and fatter.... What?... Oh, how sweet of you!... You can tell from the voice? Michael, how clever of you!... Well, you’ll see for yourself.... Yes, that’s what I wanted to say.... Just before you shoot yourself.... Oh, well, you must ask me.... I don’t know. I haven’t decided.... All right, I’ll wait for you. Good-bye.

(_She kisses his hand. He kisses hers._)

PRINCE. Well, Jenny?

JENNIFER. Well, Mike?

PRINCE. I’ve come back.

JENNIFER. So it seems.

PRINCE. What about it?

JENNIFER. I don’t know.

PRINCE. Shall we try?

JENNIFER (_nodding_). If you like.

PRINCE. Thank you, Jenny.

JENNIFER. It’s an experiment, of course.

PRINCE. Isn’t that the most fun?

JENNIFER. You’re an adventurer at heart, you know.

PRINCE. You too, Jennifer.

JENNIFER (_smiling_). I suppose I am.

PRINCE. Adventurers, both.

JENNIFER. I suppose any morning I may wake up and find that you’ve gone off to be the Prince of some imaginary country.

PRINCE. And any afternoon I may wake up to find that you’ve run off with some imaginary General.

JENNIFER. Yes, we’ve got to remember that.

PRINCE. Yes....

JENNIFER. Michael?

PRINCE. Jennifer.

JENNIFER. I think we’ll keep an atlas in the house.

PRINCE (_nodding_). And an Army List.

JENNIFER. And some day, perhaps, I shall come upon you looking wistfully at that atlas, wondering where Neo-Slavonia is.

PRINCE. And some day, perhaps, I shall find you fluttering the pages of that Army List, and wondering which General most wants a widow.

JENNIFER. And when that happens to either of us, then one will know that the other one----

PRINCE. Wants a little holiday.

JENNIFER. So they’ll say to each other quite casually, “Oh, are _you_ off?”

PRINCE. And off they’ll go.

JENNIFER. And then when they’ve been away long enough----

PRINCE. Not four years this time----

JENNIFER. Only a little while----

PRINCE. They’ll try to find each other again.

JENNIFER. And they will have so much to tell each other----

PRINCE. That they will never be bored.

JENNIFER. It might work that way.

PRINCE. It might.

JENNIFER (_holding out her hands_). Worth trying, Michael?

PRINCE (_taking them_). Worth trying, Jennifer.

(_As they stand there_, BATTERSBY _bursts in with the paper,
obviously excited._)

BATTERSBY. I say! I say! I say! Just as well I went to get the paper.

PRINCE (_vaguely, dropping_ JENNIFER’S _hands_). The paper?

BATTERSBY (_showing the place_). Look here, Prince! There! (_They take the paper and look at it together_) I say, Angela! (_He hurries off to her._) I say! Angela!...

PRINCE (_reading_). Sudden Revolution in----Neo-Slavonia! (_He stares blankly at her._)

JENNIFER. But you said there wasn’t!

PRINCE. There isn’t! I invented it.

JENNIFER (_pointing to paper._) But there must be!

PRINCE (_nodding_). There must be. (_Sadly_) Jennifer, Jennifer, I thought I was a creator, and I’m just an ordinary impostor after all.

JENNIFER (_very soothingly_). Never mind, darling. Better luck next time!

(_Angela is at the door, a cigarette in her mouth, a cocktail in
her hand._)

ANGELA (_regarding them with an indulgent smile_). Come along, children!

(_Hand in hand, they walk past her, the children, and go out....
She follows them._)

ARIADNE, OR BUSINESS FIRST

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

CHARACTERS

ARIADNE WINTER.
JOHN WINTER (_her husband_).
MARY (_maid_).
HECTOR CHADWICK.
HESTER CHADWICK (_his wife_).
JANET INGLEBY.
HORACE MELDRUM.

SCENE: _Drawing-room of John Winter’s house in the provincial town of Melchester._

ACT I. Friday.

_Scene_ 1: Before dinner.

_Scene_ 2: Three hours later.

ACT II. Saturday. Late afternoon.

ACT III. Monday. Between tea and dinner.

The first performance of this play in London took place at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, on April 22, 1925, with the following cast:

_John Winter_ ION SWINLEY.
_Ariadne_ FAY COMPTON.
_Hector Chadwick_ JOHN DEVERELL.
_Hester Chadwick_ LOUISE HAMPTON.
_Janet Ingleby_ JOYCE KENNEDY.
_Horace Meldrum_ ALLAN AYNESWORTH.
_Mary_ BARBARA EVEREST.