Chapter VII: Act III

_Monday._ ARIADNE _is alone in the drawing-room, reading_. MARY
_is clearing away tea. The front door bell rings._

ARIADNE. I am at home to anybody, Mary. From the Mayor downwards--(_after thought_)--upwards--(_after further thought_)--downwards.

MARY. Yes, madam.

(_She goes out, leaving the door open. In a little while_
HECTOR’S _voice is heard booming_.)

HECTOR’S VOICE. Ah, Mary! Is Mr. Winter in? I just dropped in on my way next door.... (MARY’S _voice is not heard_.) ... Ah! No, I think perhaps.... No, it was your master I particularly wished--in the circumstances perhaps hardly----Thank you, thank you.

(_He goes_, MARY _comes back_.)

MARY. It was Mr. Chadwick, madam. He said----

ARIADNE (_smiling_). I heard him, Mary. He talks very clearly.

MARY. Thank you, madam.

[_She goes out._

(ARIADNE _returns to her book_.)

ARIADNE (_to herself_). Cut by Hector. (JOHN _comes in, evening paper in hand. She jumps up_) Darling! (JOHN _takes no notice._) Cut--by John. (_She goes back to the sofa and picks up her book_) And now I’ve lost the place. That comes of being impetuous. (JOHN _settles down with the paper._) Did you see Hector? (JOHN _grunts_.) Yes or no, as the case may be.... He’s just gone out.... He’s coming back again.... (_After a long pause_) How delightful.

JOHN (_sulkily_). What?

ARIADNE. Oh, nothing. (_After a pause_) Anything in the paper?

JOHN. No.

ARIADNE. Nothing in the paper. (_After a pause_) Did you have a good day?

JOHN. H’m.

ARIADNE. A good day. Now what shall I say next? (_Brightly, after a pause_) I’m reading a book about bees.

JOHN. H’m.

ARIADNE. What a mercy! I’ve found a subject which interests him.... It says in my book about bees that when the queen bee has finished with her husband she kills him. Did you know that? It’s a funny idea, isn’t it? You’d have thought that she’d have kept him to talk to her in the evenings. It must be so lonely for her without anybody.

JOHN. H’m.

ARIADNE. He isn’t as fascinated as I thought. (_After a pause_) I wish I had been married to Hector. Whatever his faults, nobody can say that he doesn’t _talk_.

JOHN (_rudely_). And nobody can say that his wife ran away from him.

ARIADNE (_sweetly_). Oh, is _that_ what it is? I knew there was something the matter.

JOHN (_throwing down his paper_). What do you expect me to do? Thank you for coming back to me, and then chatter away gaily as though nothing had happened?

ARIADNE. No, but I think that, after two days of completely silent thought, you ought to do _some_thing. What _are_ you going to do, John?

JOHN (_mumbling_). Haven’t decided.

ARIADNE. Would you like me to go away for a few days until you _have_ decided?

JOHN (_brutally_). With whom?

ARIADNE. Oh, John! (_She shakes her head at him._)

JOHN (_angrily_). Why do you make me say things like that? I was just reading my paper--and then you make me say horrible things like that. What do you expect me to do? I’ve tried to see Meldrum, I keep on trying to see Meldrum, but if he’s away, what can I do?

ARIADNE (_surprised_). Away?

JOHN. Of course he’s away. At least he’s never at home or at his office when I go to see him.

ARIADNE (_eagerly_). What are you going to say to him?

JOHN. Tell him that, if I see him inside my house again, I’ll knock his head off.

ARIADNE. John! My darling! (_She goes to him and puts her arms round his neck._)

JOHN. Go away! (_He tries to unloose her arms._)

ARIADNE. And you are prepared to lose all his business?

JOHN (_bravely_). If necessary.

ARIADNE (_admiringly_). John!

JOHN (_hopefully_). It may not come to that, of course.

ARIADNE. But it must!

JOHN (_uncomfortably_). My dear child, you can’t let sentiment interfere with business. No business man does. If it’s convenient to Meldrum that I should continue to act for him, naturally he will want me to.

ARIADNE. And naturally you will?

JOHN. Naturally.

ARIADNE (_leaving him_). I think I shall go on with my book about bees.

_Enter_ MARY.

MARY. Miss Ingleby is at the door and wants to know if you’re engaged, madam.

ARIADNE. Oh no, ask her in, Mary.

MARY. Yes, madam.

[_She goes out._

ARIADNE. You’d better pretend you’re busy, hadn’t you, dear? Janet would know at once that you didn’t love me any more.

JOHN (_sulkily_). Right.

[_He goes out and is heard speaking to_ JANET.

JOHN (_outside_). How are you? You’ll find Ariadne in there. I’ve got one or two letters to write.

JANET. Thanks. (_She comes in._)

ARIADNE. Good-evening, dear. I suppose you’ve had tea.

JANET. Oh, Lord, yes, ages ago. (_She sits down._) I rather want your advice, that’s why I came.

ARIADNE. Well, as long as you promise not to take it----

JANET. That’s something about you that makes you different from most of the people here.

ARIADNE. I suppose Hector would think it uncivic of me to take that as a compliment.

JANET. Well, anyway, I’ll tell you what’s happened; though, I know pretty well what you’ll say.

ARIADNE. How disappointing of you!... Go ahead. (_Tucking them away_) I’m all ears.

JANET. Well, I went to London on Saturday.

ARIADNE. London! On Saturday! Fancy!

JANET. To have lunch with some friends. I was coming back by that 5 train----

ARIADNE. I know. It isn’t a very good one.

JANET. How funny! That was just what Horace Meldrum said.

ARIADNE (_surprised_). Horace Meldrum? When?

JANET. When he saw me catching it.

ARIADNE (_innocently_). Oh, did _he_ go to London on Saturday?

JANET. He had to run up to see a man about something.

ARIADNE. Oh, I see.

JANET. We were both catching the 5 train back.

ARIADNE. Fancy! So _he_ was coming back too?

JANET. Well, he was at the station anyway.

ARIADNE. Looking for somebody perhaps.

JANET. Well, anyhow we met just outside the platform, and naturally we got talking, and he said that the best train of the day was the 10.45.

ARIADNE. Yes, I’ve heard that very well spoken of.

JANET. And he thought it would be rather fun if we had dinner somewhere and came back by that train together.

ARIADNE. He likes a little bit of fun, I know.

JANET. _I_ thought it would be rather fun, too. So we did.

ARIADNE (_anxiously_). He didn’t mention any--better trains?

JANET. No, that was the best.

ARIADNE. And you caught it?

JANET. Yes.

ARIADNE (_with a sigh of relief_). Then what do you want my advice about?

JANET. Well, I’m telling you.

ARIADNE. Sorry.

JANET. He got a bit wuzzy at dinner--well, I don’t mind that, I’ve seen a bit of it in my time.

ARIADNE. However old are you? A hundred and one?

JANET. When I say wuzzy, I don’t mean--well, he could have driven a car all right. I mean fond of himself--and of me--and of the waiters--_you_ know.

ARIADNE. I know.

JANET. And in the train--we had a carriage to ourselves----

ARIADNE. Really? First class, I suppose?

JANET. Yes, and the guard was a friend of his.

ARIADNE. Mr. Meldrum has a great many friends in the guards.

JANET. Well, in the train----

ARIADNE. I suppose he kissed you.

JANET. Well, of course! You don’t think I am making a song about that, do you?

ARIADNE. I’m sorry, go on.

JANET. Well, in the train he asked me to marry him.

ARIADNE (_awed_). Janet, I wish I could have heard him.

JANET. It _was_ rather funny. He asked me to share his little nest, and things like that. Well, I told him that I couldn’t say off-hand, and he said, “That’s right, little woman, you think it over.” But he’s been practically living with us since, talking business with Father, and _he_ thinks it’s settled, and Father thinks it’s settled, and----

ARIADNE. And Janet?

JANET. Janet isn’t quite certain. Because, you see, there’s a lot to be said on both sides.

ARIADNE. I see. And which side do you want me to say it on?

JANET. I know what _you’ll_ say--you’ll say, “Of _course_ you mustn’t.”

ARIADNE (_indignantly_). I shan’t say anything of the sort.

JANET. You’re a bit old-fashioned in some ways. Don’t you think so?

ARIADNE. I’m trying not to be.

JANET. I feel that at any moment you’ll ask me if I’m in _love_ with Horace.

ARIADNE. My dear child--I mean, my dear elderly friend, how could I ask you anything so ridiculous?

JANET. Mind you, I’m not saying that I have no use for love. But what I feel is that love and marriage are two different things.

ARIADNE. They are sometimes, of course.

JANET. Well, look round a bit, at all the married couples you know. How many of them are in love with each other? Are the Chadwicks?

ARIADNE (_twinkling_). You must ask Hector one day--when I’m there.

JANET (_suddenly_). I’ll ask somebody else. Are you and John?

ARIADNE. Oh, my dear! How embarrassing of you!

JANET. Well, tell me.

ARIADNE (_after a pause_). I think so, Janet.... In our hearts.... It gets covered up from time to time with business, and domestic worries, and other things, but I think it’s there.

JANET (_a little taken aback_). Oh!

ARIADNE. That’s what makes marriage such terrible fun. Trying to keep it. Trying to find it again. The other thing is so ridiculously easy. Any fool can get married, and throw her hand in.

JANET. Y-yes.

ARIADNE. You and I are much too good for that, Janet. We’re in a different class. Any brainless little fluffity girl can marry, and fall in love with somebody else, and be fallen in love with. It takes a real woman to keep marriage intact.... _You_ could do it.... And it _is_ such fun. But you must have the right husband to start with.... Oh yes, John and I are all right ... really ... though perhaps he doesn’t know it just at this moment.

JANET (_thoughtfully_). I felt perhaps it was a bit cheap.

ARIADNE. Cheap ... yes.... Free love--and free verse. They may be better, but--(_with a smile_)--but they’re a damn sight easier. I like difficult things. (_There is a short silence._)

JANET (_getting up slowly_). Yes. Horace is too easy.

ARIADNE. Much.

JANET. Thanks, Ariadne.

ARIADNE. Do something for me.

JANET. Of course.

ARIADNE (_smiling to herself_). Let him think--for to-day anyhow--that it _is_ settled.

JANET. My dear, it will take me more than a day to persuade him that it isn’t.

ARIADNE. And it really isn’t?

JANET. It isn’t. Horace is off.... Charlie was off.... I suppose I shall find somebody one day.

ARIADNE. Why not find a job of work to do while you’re looking round?

JANET (_struck by the novelty of it_). Good idea! I will. So long. (_She goes ... wondering what she could do._)

(_Left alone_, ARIADNE _waits until_ JANET _is out of the house,
and then opens the door and calls across to_ JOHN’S _study_.)

ARIADNE. John!... John.... It’s all right, Janet has gone. We can resume our silence from where we left off.... Bother! (_She wanders round the room in an undecided way, and then goes back to the sofa and picks up her book._) I suppose it will have to be bees again.

_Enter_ MARY.

MARY. Oh, Mr. Meldrum rang up, madam, while you were engaged with Miss Ingleby. I couldn’t quite catch whether it was Mr. or Mrs. Winter he was asking for. He just wanted to know if you was in.

ARIADNE (_hopefully_). Yes, Mary?

MARY. He was coming round, I understood him to say, madam. I think the master has gone up to dress. I think I heard him going into the bathroom.

(_The front door bell rings._)

ARIADNE. Oh! Well, you’d better show Mr. Meldrum in here in case it’s very urgent business.

MARY. Yes, madam, I think that’s him now.

ARIADNE. Very well, Mary. (MARY _goes out and_ ARIADNE _smiles to herself on the sofa_.) Dear Horace!

MARY (_announcing_). Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE _comes in_.

HORACE (_advancing airily, hand extended_). Ah, dear lady, I just looked round to say how sorry I was----

ARIADNE (_rising dramatically_). Horace!

HORACE (_less airily_). How sorry I was our little luncheon fell through----

ARIADNE. My darling!

HORACE (_startled_). Eh?

ARIADNE. I was afraid something had happened to you.

HORACE. Oh no, no, no. A little bit of business turned up. You know how it does. And I said to myself, “Mrs. John is a sensible woman, she’ll understand how it is when a little bit of business turns up. She’ll let me off that little bit of lunch I promised her.” But I thought I’d just come round--only polite----

ARIADNE (_bewildered_). Horace!

HORACE. What’s the matter?

ARIADNE. Ah, I understand. How tactful of you. But you can speak quite safely now. We are alone. My husband is upstairs having a bath. Darling!

HORACE. I--I--I--Really!

ARIADNE. As if business would have kept you away from me! What was it, dear? You had an accident? You fell down?

HORACE. Really, Mrs. Winter, I don’t quite--I think you must have made----(_He breaks off, not knowing what to say._)

ARIADNE. Ah, but never mind! We are all right now.

HORACE (_mechanically_). All right now.

ARIADNE. Quite sure?

HORACE. Quite sure.

ARIADNE. Then when do we start?

HORACE. When do we----?

ARIADNE. When do we start?

HORACE (_mechanically_). Start.

ARIADNE. Yes, start.

HORACE. Start where?

ARIADNE. That’s for you to say, Horace. What about Spain?

HORACE. Spain?

ARIADNE. Yes, Spain.

HORACE (_mechanically_). Spain.... Spain.... Spain.... Spain....

ARIADNE. Spain--until it’s all blown over.

HORACE. Spain until it’s all blown over.... (_With an effort_) My dear lady, I--I don’t know what you’re talking about.

ARIADNE (_horrified_). Horace!

HORACE. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

ARIADNE. Have I made a terrible mistake?

HORACE (_seeming to find some comfort in the phrase_). I don’t know what you’re talking about.

ARIADNE. You did ask me to come away with you?

HORACE. I don’t know what----

ARIADNE. To leave my husband and come away with you?

HORACE (_with energy_). Never! Never! Never! Never!

ARIADNE. Not on that Friday night when I wore your rose?

HORACE. Never!

ARIADNE. And you wore mine?

HORACE. Never!

ARIADNE. We _are_ thinking of the same Friday? I mean this last one.

HORACE. Never thought of such a thing. Never entered my head.

ARIADNE (_wrinkling her forehead_). I’m sure you said something.

HORACE (_awkwardly_). Just a little bit of lunch--I don’t say I didn’t suggest a little bit of lunch. What’s the harm in that?

ARIADNE. Was that really all?

HORACE. Absolutely all, ’pon my honour.

ARIADNE. Oh! How awful!

HORACE. Awful? What’s awful?

ARIADNE. What have I done?

HORACE. What _have_ you done?

ARIADNE. Why, you see, I left a note for John.

HORACE (_faintly_). You left what?

ARIADNE. You see, I misunderstood you, and I left a note for John saying we were going away together.

HORACE. But--but--but----

ARIADNE. And then you didn’t meet me as we arranged, and I thought you must have had some terrible accident, so I hurried back here to wait until you were well again.

HORACE (_anxiously_). Yes, but what about the note?

ARIADNE. It was too late. John had read it.

HORACE. But--but--but--my dear lady----

ARIADNE. Wasn’t it a pity?

HORACE. But wha--wha--what did it say?

ARIADNE. Oh, just that you and I were going away together, and he wasn’t to follow us. I didn’t say anything about Spain, because I wasn’t quite sure.

HORACE. Well, of all the--well, of all the--well, of all the----

ARIADNE (_penitently_). I was hasty, I see that now. But what are we going to do?

HORACE. What’s _he_ going to do, that’s the point?

ARIADNE. Do you mean John?

HORACE (_anxiously_). What’s he been doing these last two days?

ARIADNE (_simply_). Waiting for _you_, Horace.

HORACE (_nervously_). How do you mean, waiting for me?

ARIADNE. Just waiting for you. I think he wants to speak to you.

HORACE (_hopefully_). Ah, yes, yes. Perhaps that’s it. There _is_ a little matter of business between us----

ARIADNE. This wasn’t business, Horace. He talked as though it would be a pleasure. He’s been looking for you everywhere.

HORACE. What do you think he’s going to say?

ARIADNE. He didn’t tell me. All he _said_ was that he was going to break your neck for you.

HORACE (_in alarm_). But--but--but--but--but----

ARIADNE. But I suppose he’ll say, “Ah, Meldrum, here you are,” first.

HORACE. But--but--but I’ve just fixed things up with old Ingleby. Little Miss Janet and I--well, but that shows how ridiculous the whole thing is. I’m marrying Miss Ingleby.

ARIADNE (_reproachfully_). Not with a broken neck!

HORACE (_anxiously_). But look here, my dear lady, you must explain. Tell him the whole thing was a horrible mistake.

ARIADNE. Oh, I shall. In fact I’m sure he’ll feel it for himself. He’ll look down at the body and say, “Yes, it was a mistake. I oughtn’t to have done it.” And I shall say, “I told you so, John. You see, we’ve got nowhere to put it.” And he’ll say, “What about the cellar?” and I shall say, “It’s much too big for the cellar,” and he will say----(_But the sight of_ HORACE’S _face is too much for her. Weakly she adds_) And he will say----(_and then breaks down altogether, and laughs hysterically_).

HORACE (_anxiously_). There, there, my dear lady! _(He tries to pat her back. She waves him away, and goes on laughing._) There! there!... There! there!... Try holding the breath ... there, there!

ARIADNE (_shaking her head at him_). Oh, Mr. Meldrum! (_She laughs again._)

HORACE (_with sudden relief_). You were joking? Of course! That’s it! You were just joking about John and the letter you left for him! You haven’t told him anything. Of course you haven’t.

ARIADNE (_still rather weak_). Oh, Mr. Meldrum!

HORACE (_anxious again_). What? Wasn’t it----

ARIADNE. And the poor man actually thought I was attracted by him!

HORACE (_indignantly_). What?

ARIADNE. He thought I wanted to share a first-class carriage with him!

HORACE. Who?

ARIADNE. Have a little bit of lunch with him--a little bit of dinner with him--in pink muslin!

HORACE (_utterly undone_). Well, I’m damned!

ARIADNE. Catch the last train with him! Good gracious, the man even thought I wanted to _miss_ the last train with him! With _him_! (_She points to him, and goes off into laughter again._)

HORACE. Well, upon my word----

ARIADNE. Oh, Mr. Meldrum, you funny, funny man!

HORACE (_hardly able to believe it_). You mean to tell me that you were pulling my leg from the word “Go”?

ARIADNE (_weakly_). Yes. At least, from the word “nesting.”

HORACE. You’ve just been making a fool of me?

ARIADNE. No, no. Looking on while you made a fool of yourself.

HORACE. Well, upon my soul! (_He stares at her in wonderment._)

ARIADNE. You really mustn’t make love to married women, you know. You haven’t got the figure for it. I’m not sure that you ought to make love to anybody.

HORACE. Fooled me! Fooled poor old Horace Meldrum!

ARIADNE. From the word muslin.

HORACE (_gazing at her in admiration_). You _are_ a little devil!

ARIADNE. But then you like them to show a bit of spirit, don’t you?

HORACE. By gad, I do! To think that a bit of a woman like you----

ARIADNE. Oh, I’m rather more than that. I’m almost all of it.

HORACE (_beginning to laugh reminiscently_). Right from the beginning! Poor old Horace bringing round his flowers ... poor old Horace arranging his little bit of dinner.... Why, I’d actually telephoned for a table--what do you think of that? At least my clerk had.... Well, well, well--and you were fooling me all the time! Fooling poor old Horace Meldrum! What the boys would say if they knew! Ha, ha, ha! (_He goes off into happy laughter._)

ARIADNE. It _is_ funny, isn’t it? (_She laughs too._)

HORACE (_rolling with laughter_). The way you kept it up!

ARIADNE. If you could have seen your face!

HORACE. Fooled by a woman! Ha, ha, ha!

JOHN (_outside_). Is that Meldrum?

HORACE (_still laughing weakly--his back to the door_). And of course _he’s_ in the joke too! Ha, ha, ha!

(JOHN _comes down the stairs two at a time, and bursts in, in his
shirt sleeves, his coat in his hand._)

JOHN (_fiercely_). Ah, Meldrum, here you are!

HORACE (_weakly_). That’s how you said he’d begin! Ha, ha, ha.... Yes, John, old boy, here I am ... oh dear, oh dear! (_He mops at his eyes, still shaking with laughter._)

JOHN. Stand up!

HORACE (_chuckling to_ ARIADNE). He’s going through with it. (_Meekly as he stands up_) Yes, John.

JOHN. Don’t call me John.

ARIADNE. No, John. (_To_ ARIADNE) And he’s taken his coat off and all!

ARIADNE (_going to_ JOHN). Shall I help you on, dear?

JOHN (_to_ ARIADNE). I think you had better leave us.

HORACE. That’s good! “I think you had better leave us.” That’s damned good. (_He chuckles._)

ARIADNE (_helping him on_). Why, dear?

HORACE. He’s going to break my neck, Mrs. Winter. You can’t do that in the presence of ladies. It isn’t polite.

JOHN (_stiffly_). I wish to have a few words in private with Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE. A few words in private. Capital!

ARIADNE. As this concerns _me_, I feel that I ought to be present.

HORACE. Of course she ought. Come, come, John, you can’t spoil the fun by sending her away.

JOHN (_grimly_). Fun!

HORACE (_chuckling_). As pretty a little bit of fun as ever I saw. And I like a joke. Nobody can say I don’t like a joke. I like a joke with any man. _(He sinks into the sofa again._)

JOHN. Stand up!

ARIADNE. John, he’s tired.

HORACE (_getting up_). No, no, I’ll play the game. You don’t catch Horace Meldrum spoiling a bit of fun.... Do I hold my hands up? (_He winks at_ ARIADNE.)

JOHN. You ran away with my wife.

HORACE. Yes, that’s right. Spain.

JOHN. What?

HORACE. Spain. We were going to Spain. (_To_ ARIADNE) It was Spain, wasn’t it?

ARIADNE (_nodding_). Ronda.

HORACE. That’s right. What she said. In Spain.

JOHN. Oh, so it was to be Spain, was it? And, but for the accident of missing your train, you would be in Spain together now?

HORACE (_murmuring to himself_). But for the accident of missing the train, Mrs. Winter and I would have been in Spain. That’s good. I thought there was a bit of poetry there. (_Putting it to music_) But for the accident----

JOHN (_terrifyingly_). Answer! Is it so?

HORACE. Well, I don’t know what the trains--(_hastily_) that is to say, I did look them up, of course--(_looking at his watch_)--yes, we should just about have been there now--where she said.

JOHN. And what the devil do you mean by it?

HORACE (_playing up nobly_). I can only say, as one gentleman to another, I’m sorry. (_To_ ARIADNE) That’s pretty good for an amateur.

JOHN. What are you saying to my wife?

HORACE. That was what they call an “aside,” old boy.

JOHN. How dare you address my wife at all! Kindly confine your remarks to me in future.

HORACE (_chuckling_). Oh, damn good, damn good, on my soul.

JOHN (_suddenly_). What’s the matter with you? Have you been drinking?

HORACE (_earnestly_). Not a drop, my dear fellow, not a drop since tea--well, just after tea.

JOHN. You can understand what I’m saying?

HORACE. Perfectly. And believe me, my dear boy, I appreciate it. I didn’t know you had it in you.

JOHN (_a trifle bewildered_). Then if you can understand, listen to _me_.

HORACE (_weakly_). Yes, John. Don’t make it too difficult for me.

JOHN (_very impressively_). First: If I ever catch you in my house again, I’ll thrash you within an inch of your life. Secondly: Your deeds and papers will be sent back to you to-morrow, and after that I won’t soil my fingers by touching any of your dirty business again.

ARIADNE (_to herself, meaning it_). Oh, well done, John!

HORACE (_meaning something else_). Isn’t he good?

JOHN. And thirdly: If you so much as put a foot into my office again, I’ll tell one of my clerks to kick you out.

HORACE (_in sheer admiration_). Marvellous, my dear fellow, marvellous. (_He chuckles to himself._) Wonderful touch that about soiling your fingers--with _my_ business!

JOHN (_to_ ARIADNE). Is he mad? What’s the matter with him?

ARIADNE. I think he thinks you’re joking, dear. I think he thinks you’ve been joking all the time.

JOHN (_staggered_). Joking?

ARIADNE. Yes, I think that’s what he thinks. I don’t think he’s taking you quite seriously.

JOHN (_grimly_). Oh!... So you think I’m joking, eh?

HORACE (_comfortably_). My dear man, I _know_ you’re joking.

JOHN. And how do you know that?

HORACE. Good Lord, I’m not a fool. You wouldn’t be talking about business like that if you weren’t joking.

ARIADNE. Ah, John, you see!

JOHN (_nettled_). I’ll soon show you if I’m joking or not.

HORACE. You did it so damn well that just for a moment you almost took me in. But when you talk about throwing away good business--all the nice little jobs I’ve given you, and all the nice little jobs I’m going to give you--(_chuckling_) why then, bless you, I _know_ you’re trying to pull my leg. That’s _over_-acting, my boy.

JOHN. So you think I’m joking when I say that I won’t do any more business for a man who tries to run away with my wife?

HORACE. Course I do.

JOHN. Damn you, I mean it.

HORACE (_waving him down_). No, no, dear boy.

JOHN (_appealingly_). Ariadne, tell him I mean it. Tell him I’m serious.

ARIADNE. But it sounds so silly, John.

JOHN (_to_ HORACE). I mean it, do you hear?

HORACE (_chuckling comfortably_). No, no, dear boy. You’ve put up a very good performance, but now you’re getting carried away. It’s going to your head. As long as you talk about breaking my neck, and thrashing me within an inch of my life, that’s all right, I say nothing against that. That’s all in the character. But for a man to talk of throwing away good business, just because his wife and his best client----

JOHN (_grimly_). Now I’m going to kill you.

HORACE (_chuckling_). Ah, stick to that and you can’t go wrong. That’s expected of a husband. That’s in the character. All I say----

JOHN (_advancing threateningly_). I shouldn’t waste your breath talking. Put your hands up!

HORACE (_in an ecstasy of admiring laughter_). Oh, John, John, you’ll be the death of me. You ought to have gone on the stage.

JOHN. Put them up!

HORACE (_retreating behind_ ARIADNE). Keep him off, Mrs. Winter. Stop him! Oh Lord, oh Lord, I haven’t laughed like this----

JOHN. Out of the way, Ariadne.

ARIADNE. What are you going to do, John?

HORACE (_between laughs_). He’s going to kill me.

ARIADNE. You mustn’t do that.

HORACE. He’s doing it, Mrs. Winter, he’s doing it. I shall never get over this.

ARIADNE. I think you had better go, Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE. Yes, yes, I’ll go. Oh Lord, oh Lord! (_As he goes to the door_, JOHN _makes a move after him_.)

ARIADNE. John! (JOHN _stops_.) Stay here, please. I want to talk to you. (JOHN _hesitates_.) You’d better sit down. (JOHN _sits down_.) Thank you, dear. (_Coldly_) Good-bye, Mr. Meldrum.

HORACE (_at the door, still rather weak_). Good-bye, dear lady, good----(_Suddenly recovering himself_) Why, bless my soul, I’d almost forgotten what I came about. Our little joke put it clean out of my head. (_Very businesslike_) John, I want to see you to-morrow about my marriage settlement--Janet and I have fixed things up--I arranged with old Ingleby to meet him at your office. Eleven o’clock suit you? Right. I’ll tell him. So long. (_He nods to_ JOHN, _and then slowly begins to chuckle to himself again_.) You wag!

[_He goes out._

JOHN (_rather bewildered--after a pause_). What was that he said? Marriage settlement?

ARIADNE. Yes, dear.

JOHN. Getting married? To Janet?

ARIADNE. He thinks so.

JOHN. Then how----But in that case he couldn’t----

ARIADNE. Exactly.

JOHN (_after a pause, still puzzling it out_). He said he thought it was all a joke my being angry. Why did he think it was all a joke?

ARIADNE. Because of what you said about giving up good business.

JOHN. Ridiculous nonsense!

ARIADNE. That was what he thought.

JOHN. Why shouldn’t I have given it up? Of course, to a man like Meldrum business _would_ seem the only thing that mattered. But to any decent man----(_He stops._)

ARIADNE. To any decent man----?

JOHN (_still thinking_). But that wasn’t it. Directly I came in he treated the whole thing as a joke. Why?

ARIADNE. Perhaps because I told him that the whole thing _was_ a joke.

JOHN. You told him? (_He stares at her._) Good Lord, then, you mean it wasn’t true that you were going off with him?

ARIADNE (_reproachfully_). True!

JOHN. Your letter----(_He feels in his pocket for it._)

ARIADNE. John, did you really think I could possibly----

JOHN. But that telegram. You had made _some_ sort of an arrangement with him.

ARIADNE. I might have had lunch with him if he’d caught his train. I don’t know. Would you mind that? Your favourite client.

JOHN (_having found the letter_). But if it was just lunch, why do you say this about going into the unknown together.

ARIADNE. We were lunching at Frascati’s.

JOHN. And that was all? Did he only suggest lunch? (_She says nothing._) Did he?

ARIADNE (_smiling to herself_). Well, I led him on a little. Just to see how far he _would_ go.

JOHN. Why? Oh, I see, to teach him a lesson.

ARIADNE. Mr. Meldrum? You can’t teach _him_ anything.

JOHN. Then why?

ARIADNE. Well, perhaps to teach somebody else a lesson.

JOHN (_blustering_). I can’t make women out. How you could ever have thought of lunching with a man like that. But women are all the same, they never know a bounder when they see one.

ARIADNE. I suppose they don’t.

JOHN. Meldrum! And Janet Ingleby is going to marry him! There you are again. Just what I say.

ARIADNE. Women _are_ funny, of course.

JOHN (_still with the letter_). Oh, then there’s this: “We are poles asunder, as Hector--We are poles asunder on the most vitally important thing in life.” What does that mean? What is the most vitally important thing in life?

ARIADNE (_quietly_). The order in which you put things. What comes first?

JOHN (_uncomfortably_). I don’t know what you mean. (_Pathetically_) God, I _have_ had a rotten week-end.

ARIADNE (_sympathetically_). Have you, darling?

JOHN. I’ve been perfectly miserable. (_Awkwardly_) I told Meldrum off all right, didn’t I?

ARIADNE. You did, dear.

JOHN. I suppose he did go pretty far?

ARIADNE. Pretty far.

JOHN. That’s what I thought. That’s why I said I wouldn’t have any of his business in my office again. You heard me say that?

ARIADNE. Didn’t you hear me clapping?

JOHN (_eagerly_). Did you?

ARIADNE. Didn’t you see the pride of me?

JOHN (_after a pause_). I suppose I shall just have to do this marriage settlement for him. I can hardly get out of that very well. I mean--old Ingleby----

ARIADNE. You needn’t be afraid. I fancy you’ll find that he has been rather hopeful about that.

JOHN. You mean she won’t marry him after all?

ARIADNE. Not she.

JOHN. Oh!... (_Thoughtfully_) What a pity! That might have led to something with old Ingleby. Well then (_bravely, but a little reluctantly_), I wash my hands of Meldrum’s business altogether. That’s settled.

ARIADNE. I don’t think you need go quite as far as that, John.

JOHN (_relieved_). Oh!... (_Very firmly_) Well, anyhow, he never comes into this house again.

ARIADNE. You know, I don’t think it would matter if he did. I think we understand each other now, and he rather amuses me.

JOHN (_relieved_) Oh! ... well--well, anyhow----

(_But there he stops. There seems to be no other heroic gesture
available._)

ARIADNE. Well, I must be dressing. You’re ready. (_She gets up._)

JOHN. I’ll come up. I’ve got one or two things to do. (_He looks at his watch and mechanically goes to the clock to put it right. While he is doing this, his back to her, he says shyly_) Ariadne!

ARIADNE. Yes?

JOHN (_very shyly, very humbly_). Thank you for not going away from me. (_He holds out a hand behind him._)

ARIADNE (_taking it_). Oh, John!

(_Hand in hand they walk to the door. He opens it for her._)

JOHN (_with a little smile_). Ariadne first!

ARIADNE (_smiling too_). Just for a little longer.

[_She goes out._

(_He waits to turn off the switch. The lamps by the fire are
still alight--good money thrown away. Firmly, without hurrying,
he begins to walk across the room----_)

ARIADNE (_from outside_). Come along, darling!

(_He stops; looks at the light. After all, what is twopence?_
ARIADNE _first! Magnificently he switches all the lights on, and
goes after her._)

PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN IN SLIPPERS

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT

CHARACTERS

KING HILARY XXIV.
OTHO (_his body-servant_).
PRINCESS AMARIL.
THE STRANGER.

_A room in the King’s Palace--once upon a time_

_It is mid-morning, and His Majesty (aged 30, shall we say?) is
being shaved by_ OTHO _in one of the rooms in his Palace. It
is not his bedroom, for he does not sleep there; nor is it a
reception room, though he is soon to receive his Chancellor. Let
us call it his dressing-room, and assume that a man, so fond of
posing as he, will spend much of his time within it._

_He is all the Kings that there have been in fairy-tales
and history. All the stories which have been told of the
condescension of Kings were first told of him. When the workman’s
little child falls down in front of the King’s carriage; when
the intoxicated reveller, unaware of his identity, treats him
as a boon-companion and a fellow-republican; when the sentry
challenges him at the Palace gates, and refuses to let him pass;
in these and a hundred emergencies none so conventionally royal
as_ HILARY. _He sees himself always as the hero of a royal story,
or as sitter for a royal portrait._

_At the moment he is the King condescending to his faithful
servant--one of his favourite poses. We must assume that he is
wearing his crown--or will as soon as_ OTHO _has finished with
him. In those days they always did._

OTHO. There! As pretty a shave as ever your Majesty has had.

KING. I am indebted to you, good Otho.

OTHO. It is a pleasure to deal with a beard like your Majesty’s. (_Sponging his face_) A beard so--so--if I may use the phrase----

KING. You have my permission.

OTHO. So responsive. A beard like your Majesty’s, which, in a manner of speaking, meets the razor half-way----

KING. I don’t know that I am interested in the assignations of my beard.

OTHO. As your Majesty pleases. (_He prepares to spray the royal face_) If you will condescend to close your Majesty’s eyes----

KING (_closing them_). Gladly. I was fast wearying of the pattern of the ceiling. It has a sort of----

OTHO. If it were also your Majesty’s pleasure to close the mouth--Thank you, your Majesty. (_He sprays him_) The towel. (_He hands it._)

KING (_dabbing his face_). You are the only man in my kingdom who dare tell me to shut my mouth. It is an unusual privilege. You have no children?

OTHO. No, your Majesty, nor likely to.

KING. If I were sure of that, I should make the privilege hereditary. It would be an appropriate reward for your services.

OTHO (_gracefully_). The pleasure and privilege of serving your Majesty----

KING. Is enough? Is that what you were about to say?

OTHO. To tell truth, your Majesty, I proposed to leave the sentence in the air, as a simple expression of loyalty. There were difficulties in the way of finishing it.

KING. Wise Otho.

OTHO. One must live.

KING. True. (_With a yawn_) And we must marry, it seems.

OTHO. It is generally expected of a King.

KING. So much is expected of a King. He has nothing to do but to fulfil expectations.

OTHO. The approaching ceremony is a matter of the utmost rejoicing, your Majesty.

KING. Another simple expression of loyalty?

OTHO. Not only on my lips this time, your Majesty, but in the hearts of your devoted subjects.

KING. Ah! (_He permits himself a faint smile_) Now, Otho, here is a question for you. See how you answer it.

OTHO. I will answer it truthfully, your Majesty.

KING. Can loyalty and truth be combined?

OTHO. By one who has made it his particular study, your Majesty.

KING. Come, then! Is it for my sake that the people most rejoice, or for the sake of Her Royal Highness?

OTHO. For both, your Majesty. But in their great loyalty they do not lose sight of the fact that the day is proclaimed a national holiday.

KING (_on his dignity_). Otho!

OTHO. (_bowing_). Your Majesty!

KING (_recovering his sense of humour_). You are a good fellow, Otho. (_He laughs._)

OTHO. Thank you, your Majesty. Your Majesty will understand how devoted I am to your Majesty’s service.

KING. A good fellow. But there are moments when I weary of being called Your Majesty more than three times in a sentence. Particularly when, as now, in undress. (_Graciously_) After all, Otho, I am only a man like yourself.

OTHO. It is very condescending of your Majesty.

KING. “Of you.”

OTHO (_surprised_). Of me?

KING. No, no!... Well, well, call me what you like.

OTHO. Thank you, your Majesty. It is, I assure your Majesty, no trouble to me at all.

KING. You will hardly believe it, but that was not in my mind at the moment.

OTHO. Naturally, your Majesty.... (_He busies himself professionally._)

KING. So our good people rejoice at the marriage?

OTHO. Men and women, your Majesty, young and old. Indeed, some of the old women, in a spirit of loyal anticipation, have already named the first baby for your Majesty.

KING (_airily_). Boy or girl?

OTHO. They have taken the liberty of anticipating a beautiful young Prince of the name of Rollo.

KING. Remind me when the time comes.

OTHO. Thank you, your Majesty.

KING. Rollo--it is as good a name as any other.

OTHO. The people will be much gratified by your Majesty’s choice.

KING. What more can a King desire, my good Otho?

OTHO. It depends a little on the King, your Majesty.

KING (_ironically_). Their gratification would not be lessened by the fact that any such happy event might be made the occasion for _another_ national holiday?

OTHO. Speaking as one who will probably not be participating in it, I should imagine not, your Majesty.

KING. Otho!

OTHO (_bowing_). Your Majesty!

KING (_recovering his sense of humour_). You are irresistible. I give you the day now. Make your arrangements. I regret that I cannot guarantee the weather.

OTHO. Your Majesty is gracious as ever to his humble servant. I shall take the liberty of anticipating King’s Weather.

KING. That should be easy to a man who has already anticipated the baby.

(_There is a knock at the door._)

A VOICE. May I come in?

OTHO. Her Royal Highness.

KING (_loftily_). See to it, Otho.

(AMARIL _comes in, as pretty as a princess in a story-book. The
only fault that we can find in her is that she has a sense of
humour. Poor girl._)

PRINCESS. But I _am_ in. (_She curtseys_) Good morning!

KING (_royally_). We are delighted to see your Royal Highness. (_He advances towards her._)

PRINCESS (_kissing his hand_). Your Majesty!

KING (_raising her to her feet and kissing her formally on the cheek_). Princess! (_He leads her to a couch._) You wish to see me?

PRINCESS. Do I? I suppose I do. Is it too early--or too late? Are you at business--or at rest? To come to a point, have I chosen the wrong moment, or are you glad that I am here?... How difficult for you to answer!

KING. Leave us, Otho.

OTHO (_bowing_). Your Majesty! Your Royal Highness!

[_He goes out._

PRINCESS. Well?

KING (_stiffly_). No moment is the wrong moment for your Royal Highness, no hour too early, nor too late.

PRINCESS. And yet----?

KING. And yet?

PRINCESS. You are the King, and I should have craved audience?

KING. Five minutes ago I was being shaved.

PRINCESS (_happily_). I wish I had seen you.

KING. So that even were I not the King----

PRINCESS. And even were we already married----

KING. I should have wished to know that your Royal Highness----

PRINCESS. “Your Majesty” in that case.

KING. --that your Majesty were coming.

PRINCESS. I understand. I have been forward, ill-bred, unroyal.

KING. My dear Amaril! (_But he looks a little uncomfortable._)

PRINCESS (_after a pause_). Hilary!

KING. Yes?

PRINCESS (_anxiously_). I may call you Hilary--before we are married?

KING. It is for your Royal Highness to call me whatever she is pleased to call me.

PRINCESS (_smiling_). I used to call you Toto. Do you remember?

KING. I beg you not to call me Toto in front of the Chancellor. He would undoubtedly resign.

PRINCESS. Do you remember?

KING (_stiffly_). We were very young in those days.

PRINCESS. We are not very old now.

KING (_wearily_). I am a hundred and nine. Or is it a hundred and ten?

PRINCESS. I think I could make you younger than that.... We used to kiss when we were children. Do you remember?

KING (_gracefully_). It is a privilege which is still granted to me from time to time.

PRINCESS (_shaking her head_). Oh, no! It is not a privilege ... which is granted ... from time to time. It just happens.... Do you remember how it happened that first time?

KING. How does it happen with children? They are told to kiss each other good-night. Did I have my mouth wiped for me first? I forget.

PRINCESS (_smiling to herself_). We were playing in the gardens. You said you wanted to practise rescues, and you asked me if I minded falling into the pond, so that you could jump in and save me. And I said I would. And I fell in ... and a gardener jumped in after me and pulled me out. And I taunted you, and said you had been afraid, and that I should have drowned if the gardener hadn’t saved me. And you said you were just going to jump, only your foot slipped; and I said, No, you were a coward, and the gardener was a much braver man, and I would tell my father, and he would let me marry the gardener when I grew up. And I put my tongue out, and kept saying “Coward!” And suddenly you smacked my face--oh, with all your strength--and cried that you _weren’t_ a coward, you _weren’t_, you _weren’t_, and you burst into tears ... and then your arms were round my neck and you kissed me, and sobbed, “_Don’t_ marry the gardener. My foot did slip, _really_--but I promise you it will _never_ slip again.” And so we clung to each other, and cried together. And I promised you that I would marry _you_, not the gardener.... And that is why I am marrying you to-morrow--because I promised.... (_There is a silence between them._)

KING (_coldly_). I struck you, I betrayed you, I was a coward; and you choose this moment to remind me of it.

PRINCESS (_distressed_). Oh _no_, Hilary, no!... It was just the little boy I loved. I wanted to remind you of _him_.

KING. Do you think I need to be reminded? Do you think I am not ashamed? A coward!

PRINCESS. No, no, your foot slipped.

KING (_bitterly_). And a liar!

PRINCESS. Oh, let me say it did! Let me find excuses for you!

KING. We can be honest with each other now.

PRINCESS (_sadly_). Am I going to lose that little boy?

KING. I want you to know me as I am. Yes, you were right to remind me of what I was, but you will have nothing to fear from me in the future. That I can promise you. I shall not betray you again.

PRINCESS. I was not frightened, Hilary.

KING. Even now, if you were afraid--if you wished to return to your own country--even now----

PRINCESS. Do you want me to go?

KING (_formally_). How can you ask me?

PRINCESS (_wistfully_). How can you not answer?

KING (_gallantly_). Your Royal Highness has made me the proudest man in my Kingdom--and her most devoted subject.

PRINCESS (_with a sigh_). And I once called him Toto!

KING. I think we may assume that Toto is dead.

PRINCESS (_sadly_). I think we may.

KING. But Hilary remains.

PRINCESS. Toto the First is dead. Long live Hilary the Twenty-fourth!

KING. And Long live the Queen!

PRINCESS (_with a sigh_). So long as it doesn’t seem long. (_She gets up_) Have I permission to leave your Majesty?

KING (_smiling_). My reluctant permission. (_He comes to her._)

PRINCESS. Reluctantly I avail myself of it. (_She kisses his hand. He raises her and kisses her cheek._)

KING (_whispering as he kisses her_). Don’t marry the gardener!

PRINCESS (_turning to him eagerly_). Toto! (_But he is the King again. She says coldly_) I beg your pardon, Hilary. (_She moves away._)

KING. Otho!

OTHO (_coming in_). Your Majesty! (_He opens the door for the_ PRINCESS) Your Royal Highness!

[_She goes out._

KING. Is the Chancellor here?

OTHO. Not yet, your Majesty. But there is a sort of person outside who craves admittance into your Majesty’s presence.

KING. What sort of person?

OTHO. Just a sort of person, your Majesty.

KING. What does he want?

OTHO. What he actually said was: “I want to see the King.”

KING. And that is what you call “craving admittance”?

OTHO. Another form of it, your Majesty. I fancy that he brings a gift for your Majesty’s gracious consideration.

KING (_doubtfully_). H’m!

OTHO (_helpfully_). The gift appears to be about two feet by one.

KING (_ironically_). One deduces that it is neither a horse nor a diamond.

OTHO. Of which your Majesty has already a sufficiency.

KING. Why is it that you wish me to see him?

OTHO. I assure your Majesty that I know nothing of him. Yet there is an air about him....

KING (_resigned_). Well, let him come. (_He seats himself regally._)

OTHO. Yes, your Majesty.

(_He goes out and returns with the_ STRANGER. _The_ STRANGER _has
something wrapped up, two feet by one, under his arm. He bows to
the_ KING.)

KING. Otho! (OTHO, _who was going, remains_.) You wish to see me?

STRANGER. I wish to see your Majesty.... I have already had the privilege of seeing your Majesty’s body-servant.

KING (_coldly_). Well, now you see us both.

STRANGER. It would seem to be so, your Majesty, but, alas! it is not. In my great humility, my eyes keep resting upon the humble countenance of your Majesty’s servant.

KING. If you have anything to say, you may say it in front of him. He does not talk.

STRANGER. You mean that your Majesty does not listen.

KING (_after a pause_). Leave us, Otho.

OTHO. Your Majesty!

[_He goes._

KING (_coldly_). Well?

STRANGER. I have a marriage gift for your Majesty.

KING. Which my servant may not see?

STRANGER. Your Majesty would wish to see it first.

KING. Is it so very alarming?

STRANGER. It is just a mirror.

KING. And what shall I see there?

STRANGER. Your Majesty will see--himself.

KING (_picking up the hand-mirror_). What else do I see in this?

STRANGER. Your Majesty sees only the King.

KING (_with a sigh_). True, they are different. The mirror does not show what the skilled painter can show. The portrait of me in my coronation robes which the Court Painter----

STRANGER (_smilingly_). Oh, your Majesty, the Court Painter!

KING (_coldly_). You are in error, sir. I ordered him on this occasion to paint me as I really am. The man beneath the King.

STRANGER (_thoughtfully_). The Court Painter has an extravagant wife and many children.

KING. Well?

STRANGER. I think he painted the King.

KING (_warningly_). You are a brave man.

STRANGER. I have neither wife nor children.

KING. And a foolish one. There are men, and not Kings only, whose secret selves are hidden from the world. So much is true. Indeed, with a King it must be so. His life is so public that he must needs build himself a private life in which he may take refuge. There are men, yes, and Kings, whose secret selves are hidden even from themselves. They know not of what they are capable. Sometimes I wish that I were one of them. For, oh! my friend, if ever there was a man who knew himself, and was weary of himself, it is I.

STRANGER. Now, where have I heard that said?

KING. And so, if your mirror be truly as you say it be, I shall greet the face which I see there as that of an old friend; the face of a lonely man; a man who wishes what he will never achieve--to be loved for himself, as he is, with all his faults.

STRANGER. I seem to have heard _that_ said too.

KING (_with a sentimental sigh_). With all his faults!

STRANGER. What particular faults were you thinking of, your Majesty?

KING (_warming to it_). I have, perhaps, an impetuosity which I do not show my people; a nature capable of more passion than I will let be seen. At heart I am indolent; I would gladly spend my day listening to music, or in contemplation of nature. I am rash; it may be that I jump to conclusions too quickly. Extravagant, yes; those who really knew me would say, “Recklessly so.” Ah yes, sir, there is indeed a very humble fellow beneath the King.

STRANGER. He sounds an attractive fellow.

KING (_with a sigh_). I would that I could think so.

STRANGER. I have often noticed that the faults to which humble people most readily confess are those which, in less humble men, would be regarded as virtues.

KING (_coldly_). Explain yourself.

STRANGER. I have yet to meet a man who says: “Alas, I know myself! I know that I am a liar and a coward.”

KING (_rising furiously_). Sir!

STRANGER. But I have met many who say: “Alas, I am full of faults! My generosity is extravagance; my courage, recklessness; my chivalry, mere foolishness!”

KING (_grimly_). Of your generosity and chivalry I know nothing, but certainly your courage has the appearance of recklessness.

STRANGER. How so, your Majesty?

KING. You are at my mercy.

STRANGER. I am content to be so. To every man there comes a time when life has no longer the charm which once he found in it ... and even to a King there must come a day when the sudden death of another man loses its first beauty.

KING (_sulkily_). I suffer no man to call me coward.

STRANGER. I call your Majesty nothing. It is the mirror which will tell your Majesty the truth.

KING. You think I am afraid to look?

STRANGER. If your Majesty knows himself, he has no reason to be afraid.

(_He begins to unwrap it_.)

KING (_hesitating_). Why do you bring it to me now?

STRANGER. Your Majesty is to be married to-morrow.

KING. But what of that?

STRANGER. A man can hide from himself what he cannot hide from his wife. Within a year Her Majesty will know what you will never know, unless you have seen it here--the truth about yourself.

KING. Is it well that I should know?

STRANGER. A wife should have no secrets from her husband.

(_He stands the mirror on the table._)

KING (_suspiciously_). This is some trick. (_He comes slowly to the mirror, looking doubtfully at the_ STRANGER _as he comes._)

STRANGER. No trick, your Majesty.

(_The_ KING _stands in front of the mirror. Suddenly he starts
back in horror._)

KING (_furiously_). It is a trick!

STRANGER. No, your Majesty.

(_The_ KING _looks more closely. He moves his head, his hands,
his eyes ... and watches himself, fascinated._)

KING (_in a low voice_). It is no trick.

STRANGER. What does your Majesty see?

KING (_his eyes still on the mirror, and beckoning with his hand_). Look!

STRANGER (_not moving_). What does your Majesty see?

KING (_slowly_). Cruelty, cowardice, deceit, vanity, cunning, arrogance----

STRANGER. It is a catalogue of the lesser virtues.

KING. Treachery, meanness, false humility----

STRANGER. False humility. One must avoid that.

KING. Never have I seen such a face.

STRANGER. It is remarkable how most of us carry it off.

KING. And this man--can I call him a man?--this monster is to be married to-morrow.... Poor girl!

STRANGER (_calmly_). Doubtless she knows.

KING (_turning to him_). How can she know? Until two days ago, we had not met since we were children.

STRANGER. True. I was forgetting. It is thus that royalty marries.

KING. She must know.

STRANGER. She will find out.

KING. But it will be too late.

STRANGER. Is it not too late now?

KING. No! No! She must see! She must be warned!

STRANGER. Is it a marriage of love, then?

KING (_in a low voice_). I love her.... Can a King love? But I do love her.

STRANGER. Let her see, then.

KING (_still at the mirror_). Yes, yes! (_He rings a bell._)

OTHO (_coming in_). Your Majesty!

KING. Otho! Here! (_He beckons him to the mirror._)

STRANGER (_warningly_). Your Majesty! (_He shakes his head._)

KING (_taking the hint_). Otho, ask Her Royal Highness if she can give me a moment of her time.

OTHO (_withdrawing_). Yes, your Majesty.

KING. You are right. Otho must not know the truth about me.

STRANGER (_with a smile_). I was not thinking of that, your Majesty. I was thinking that it would be unwise for you to know the truth about Otho.

KING. Unwise?

STRANGER. The world is at an end if we lose our illusions about our friends. It is a small matter that they should lose theirs about us.

KING (_haughtily_). Otho is my servant.

STRANGER. Yet if he is not your friend, who is?

KING (_sadly_). True. A King can have no friends.

STRANGER. Which is an excellent reason why he should seek one in the woman he marries. Perhaps it would be better not to show the mirror to Her Royal Highness.

KING. My mind is made up. It is her right.

STRANGER. Then may I suggest that your Majesty stands a little to one side of the mirror, and avoids looking into it, lest he should see Her Royal Highness there.

KING (_angrily_). Do you dare to suggest----

STRANGER. Your Majesty would see nothing but truth and goodness in her face; yet--what is a woman if she has no secrets from us?

OTHO (_announcing_). Her Royal Highness!

(_The_ STRANGER _covers the mirror again_.)

PRINCESS (_coming in_). Your Majesty wanted me?

STRANGER. Have I your Majesty’s permission to retire?

KING (_regally_). We are indebted to you for your gift.

STRANGER (_bowing_). Your Majesty is most gracious.

[OTHO _takes him off_.

PRINCESS. Nice-looking man.... Is it a present, Hilary?

KING. Come here, Amaril.

PRINCESS (_coming_). Yes?

KING (_taking her by the shoulders and looking at her_). You will be brave? But I can see that you are brave.

PRINCESS. What is it? Are you trying to frighten me? What has happened? Why are you so strange?

KING (_bitterly_). Strange--yes. (_After a pause_) Amaril, what do you really know of me?

PRINCESS. Nothing, Hilary.

KING. You see the King, wearing his crown--and his mask. But what do you know of the man beneath?

PRINCESS. Nothing, Hilary.

KING. Yet you are willing to marry me?

PRINCESS. We have not much choice in our world.

KING. If I could show you the real man; if the sight of him filled you with horror; would you have the courage, even at this hour, to leave him and go back to your own country?

PRINCESS. I am not a coward, Hilary. I would have the courage to leave him, if I wished to leave him--and I would have the courage to stay with him, if I wished to help him.

KING (_bitterly_). No, _you_ are not a coward. But what am I?

PRINCESS. I think you are a little morbid about yourself sometimes.

KING. And I have reason to be.

PRINCESS. You have a picture of yourself to show me. Is that it?

KING. A mirror in which you shall see me as I really am.

(_He takes the cover off._)

PRINCESS. Ah!

KING. When you have seen it, you will know ... and I shall not see you again. (_He motions her to stand in front of it._) Come!

PRINCESS (_not moving_). Is it so terrible?

KING. To me, yes. To you, also, when you have seen it.

PRINCESS. Yet you are willing to show it to me?

KING (_with dignity_). It is only fair to your Royal Highness. As a man of honour----

PRINCESS. As a man of honour you are prepared to throw away your chance of happiness with me?

KING (_heroically_). As a man of honour I must.

PRINCESS. It is happiness? You still wish me to marry you?

KING. If your Royal Highness could stoop so low. But I am ashamed to ask.

PRINCESS (_her temper rising_). At least, then, I shall see in the mirror the portrait of a man of honour. There will be humility also, and shame. Is it so terrible a picture? (_The_ KING _says nothing. She goes on scornfully_) Or shall I see none of these things? Is His Majesty still posing, still wearing his crown and mask, still making a portrait of himself for his own delight?

KING (_regally_). Madam, you go too far!

PRINCESS (_exhibiting him to the world_). Portrait of King Hilary the Twenty-Fourth on his royal dignity: “Madam, you go too far.” One more portrait for your private gallery! Portrait of the King condescending royally to his body-servant: “Amuse me, good Otho. I am aweary of this world.” Portrait of the King graciously accepting marriage gifts from strangers: “Sir, we thank you. We Kings are lonely men....” Portrait of the King discovering that he is full of evil and resolving to enter a monastery--portrait of the King deciding that for the sake of his beloved people he will remain outside--portrait of the----

KING (_furiously_). You _dare_ to say these things to me?

PRINCESS. I dare to say these things to you! _I_ am not a false, dressed-up coward like--_that_ man! (_In her anger she has been walking up and down, and now finds herself enough in front of the mirror to see the_ KING’S _face in it. She points scornfully at it as she says, “That man.” Then suddenly her expression changes; she looks in amazement at the mirror--at the_ KING--_at the mirror again_.) Toto!

KING (_staggered_). What?

PRINCESS (_turning eagerly to him_). Toto! My darling! You’ve come back to me!

KING. What madness is this?

PRINCESS (_to the mirror_). My ugly little, stupid little, vain little, bad little, _funny_ little Toto! (_She goes to him and throws her arms round him._) My darling, why didn’t you tell me?

KING (_with dignity_). Really, Amaril, this is most----(_He tries to disengage himself._)

PRINCESS (_soothing him_). There, there!

OTHO (_outside_). Your Majesty?

KING (_frantically_). Amaril!... Enter, Otho!

(OTHO _comes in, as the_ PRINCESS _slips away from the_ KING.
_The latter hastily covers the mirror._)

OTHO. Your Majesty, the Chancellor is without.

KING (_very regal_). We will receive him, Otho. (_He seats himself._)

PRINCESS (_with immense dignity_). Have I your Majesty’s leave to withdraw?

KING (_offering a royal hand_). Your Royal Highness!

PRINCESS (_kissing it_). Your Majesty!

(OTHO _conducts her out by the one door, and returns to the
other for the Chancellor. The_ KING _assumes the portrait of
“Hilary XXIV. receiving his Chancellor in audience.” Just as his
expression is at its best, the_ PRINCESS _pops her head in at the
door_.)

PRINCESS (_in a babyish sing-song voice_). To-to!

(_He turns angrily. She blows a kiss to him and disappears
again._)

OTHO (_announcing_). His Excellency the Chancellor!

(_The_ KING _awaits him regally_.)

SUCCESS

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS

CHARACTERS

THE RT. HON. R. SELBY MANNOCK, M.P.
LADY JANE MANNOCK.
ARTHUR MANNOCK.
FREDA MANNOCK.
DIGBY.
EDWARD EVERSLEY.
BERTIE CAPP.
JOHN READER.
LORD CARCHESTER.
NITE.
SQUIER.
BUTEUS MAIDEN.
SALLY.

Act I. Cavendish Square. Evening.

Act II. Enderways, Yorkshire.

_Scene_ 1: Dick’s Room. Midnight ... and after.

_Scene_ 2: A Corner of the Wilderness. Early Morning.

Act III. Cavendish Square.

_Scene_ 1: Afternoon.

_Scene_ 2: Afternoon, two days later.

This play was first produced at the Haymarket Theatre on June 21, 1923, with the following cast:

_The Rt. Hon. R. Selby Mannock, M.P._ CHARLES CHERRY.
_Lady Jane Mannock_ GRACE LANE.
_Arthur Mannock_ JOHN WILLIAMS.
_Freda Mannock_ JOYCE KENNEDY.
_Digby_ EUGENE LEAHY.
_Edward Eversley_ HALLIWELL HOBBES.
_Bertie Capp_ REGINALD OWEN.
_John Reader_ REGINALD BACH.
_Lord Carchester_ ERIC STANLEY.
_Nite_ SYDNEY BROMLEY.
_Squier_ LEWIS SHAW.
_Buteus Maiden_. RITA SEYMOUR.
_Sally_ MOYNA MACGILL.