Chapter V: Part 5

MACKESY. (Yawning.) Oh, it's a sweet life! I wonder whether matrimony would make it sweeter.

CURTISS. Ask Cockley--with his wife dying by inches!

BLAYNE. Go home and get a fool of a girl to come out to--what is it Thackeray says?--'the splendid palace of an Indian pro-consul.'

DOONE. Which reminds me. My quarters leak like a sieve. I had fever last night from sleeping in a swamp. And the worst of it is, one can't do anything to a roof till the Rains are over.

CURTISS. What's wrong with you? _You_ haven't eighty rotting Tommies to take into a running stream.

DOONE. No: but I'm mixed boils and bad language. I'm a regular Job all over my body. It's sheer poverty of blood, and I don't see any chance of getting richer--either way.

BLAYNE. Can't you take leave?

DOONE. That's the pull you Army men have over us. Ten days are nothing in your sight. _I'm_ so important that Government can't find a substitute if I go away. Ye-es, I'd like to be Gaddy, whoever his wife may be.

CURTISS. You've passed the turn of life that Mackesy was speaking of.

DOONE. Indeed I have, but I never yet had the brutality to ask a woman to share my life out here.

BLAYNE. On my soul I believe you're right. I'm thinking of Mrs. Cockley. The woman's an absolute wreck.

DOONE. Exactly. Because she stays down here. The only way to keep her fit would be to send her to the Hills for eight months--and the same with any woman. I fancy I see myself taking a wife on those terms.

MACKESY. With the rupee at one and sixpence. The little Doones would be little Dehra Doones, with a fine Mussoorie _chi-chi_ anent to bring home for the holidays.

CURTISS. And a pair of be-ewtiful _sambhur_-horns for Doone to wear, free of expense, presented by---

DOONE. Yes, it's an enchanting prospect. By the way, the rupee hasn't done falling yet. The time will come when we shall think ourselves lucky if we only lose half our pay.

CURTISS. Surely a third's loss enough. Who gains by the arrangement? That's what I want to know.

BLAYNE. The Silver Question! I'm going to bed if you begin squabbling. Thank Goodness, here's Anthony--looking like a ghost.

_Enter_ ANTHONY, _Indian Medical Staff, very white and tired._

ANTHONY. 'Evening, Blayne. It's raining in sheets. _Whiskey-peg, lao, Khitmatgar._ The roads are something ghastly.

CURTISS. How's Mingle?

ANTHONY. Very bad, and more frightened. I handed him over to Fewton. Mingle might just as well have called him in the first place, instead of bothering me.

BLAYNE. He's a nervous little chap. What has he got, this time?

ANTHONY. 'Can't quite say. A very bad tummy and a blue funk so far. He asked me at once if it was cholera, and I told him not to be a fool. That soothed him.

CURTISS. Poor devil! The funk does half the business in a man of that build.

ANTHONY. (_Lighting a cheroot._) I firmly believe the funk will kill him if he stays down. You know the amount of trouble he's been giving Fewton for the last three weeks. He's doing his very best to frighten himself into the grave.

GENERAL CHORUS. Poor little devil! Why doesn't he get away?

ANTHONY. 'Can't. He has his leave all right, but he's so dipped he can't take it, and I don't think his name on paper would raise four annas. That's in confidence, though.

MACKESY. All the Station knows it.

ANTHONY. 'I suppose I shall have to die here,' he said, squirming all across the bed. He's quite made up his mind to Kingdom Come. And I _know_ he has nothing more than a wet-weather tummy if he could only keep a hand on himself.

BLAYNE. That's bad. That's very bad. Poor little Miggy. Good little chap, too. I say--

ANTHONY. What do you say?

BLAYNE. Well, look here--anyhow. If it's like that--as you say--I say fifty.

CURTISS. I say fifty.

MACKESY. I go twenty better.

DOONE. Bloated Croesus of the Bar! I say fifty. Jervoise, what do you say? Hi! Wake up!

JERVOISE. Eh? What's that? What's that?

CURTISS. We want a hundred rupees from you. You're a bachelor drawing a gigantic income, and there's a man in a hole.

JERVOISE. What man? Any one dead?

BLAYNE. No, but he'll die if you don't give the hundred. Here! Here's a peg-voucher. You can see what we've signed for, and Anthony's man will come round to-morrow to collect it. So there will be no trouble.

JERVOISE. (Signing.) One hundred, E. M. J. There you are (feebly). It isn't one of your jokes, is it?

BLAYNE. No, it really _is_ wanted. Anthony, you were the biggest poker-winner last week, and you've defrauded the tax-collector too long. Sign!

ANTHONY. Let's see. Three fifties and a seventy--two twenty--three twenty--say four hundred and twenty. That'll give him a month clear at the Hills. Many thanks, you men. I'll send round the _chaprassi_ tomorrow.

CURTISS. You must engineer his taking the stuff, and of course you mustn't--

ANTHONY. Of course. It would never do. He'd weep with gratitude over his evening drink.

BLAYNE. That's just what he would do, damn him. Oh! I say, Anthony, you pretend to know everything. Have you heard about Gaddy?

ANTHONY. No. Divorce Court at last?

BLAYNE. Worse. He's engaged!

ANTHONY. How much? He _can't_ be!

BLAYNE. He _is_. He's going to be married in a few weeks. Markyn told me at the Judge's this evening. It's _pukka_.

ANTHONY. You don't say so? Holy Moses! There'll be a shine in the tents of Kedar.

CURTISS. 'Regiment cut up rough, think you?

ANTHONY. 'Don't know anything about the Regiment.

MACKESY. It is bigamy, then?

ANTHONY. Maybe. Do you mean to say that you men have forgotten, or is there more charity in the world than I thought?

DOONE. You don't look pretty when you are trying to keep a secret. You bloat. Explain.

ANTHONY. Mrs. Herriott!

BLAYNE. (_After a long pause, to the room generally._) It's my notion that we are a set of fools.

MACKESY. Nonsense. _That_ business was knocked on the head last season. Why, young Mallard--

ANTHONY. Mallard was a candlestick, paraded as such. Think awhile. Recollect last season and the talk then. Mallard or no Mallard, did Gaddy ever talk to any other woman?

CURTISS. There's something in that. It _was_ slightly noticeable now you come to mention it. But she's at Naini Tal and he's at Simla.

ANTHONY. He had to go to Simla to look after a globetrotter relative of his--a person with a title. Uncle or aunt.

BLAYNE. And there he got engaged. No law prevents a man growing tired of a woman.

ANTHONY. Except that he mustn't do it till the woman is tired of him. And the Herriott woman was not that.

CURTISS. She may be now. Two months of Naini Tal work wonders.

DOONE. Curious thing how some women carry a Fate with them. There was a Mrs. Deegie in the Central Provinces whose men invariably fell away and got married. It became a regular proverb with us when I was down there. I remember three men desperately devoted to her, and they all, one after another, took wives.

CURTISS. That's odd. Now I should have thought that Mrs. Deegie's influence would have led them to take other men's wives. It ought to have made them afraid of the judgment of Providence.

ANTHONY. Mrs. Herriott will make Gaddy afraid of something more than the judgment of Providence, I fancy.

BLAYNE. Supposing things are as you say, he'll be a fool to face her. He'll sit tight at Simla.

ANTHONY. 'Shouldn't be a bit surprised if he went off to Naini to explain. He's an unaccountable sort of man, and she's likely to be a more than unaccountable woman.

DOONE. What makes you take her character away so confidently?

ANTHONY. _Primum tempus_. Gaddy was her first, and a woman doesn't allow her first man to drop away without expostulation. She justifies the first transfer of affection to herself by swearing that it is for ever and ever. Consequently--

BLAYNE. Consequently, we are sitting here till past one o'clock, talking scandal like a set of Station cats. Anthony, it's all your fault. We were perfectly respectable till you came in. Go to bed. I'm off. Good-night all.

CURTISS. Past one! It's past two, by Jove, and here's the _khit_ coming for the late charge. Just Heavens! One, two, three, four, _five_ rupees to pay for the pleasure of saying that a poor little beast of a woman is no better than she should be. I'm ashamed of myself. Go to bed, you slanderous villains, and if I'm sent to Beora to-morrow, be prepared to hear I'm dead before paying my card account!

THE TENTS OF KEDAR

Only why should it be with pain at all,
Why must I 'twixt the leaves of coronal
Put any kiss of pardon on thy brow?
Why should the other women know so much,
And talk together:--Such the look and such
The smile he used to love with, then as now.
_Any Wife to any Husband_.

SCENE.-_A Naini Tal dinner for thirty-four. Plate, wines, crockery, and khitmatgars carefully calculated to scale of Rs. 6000 per mensem, less Exchange. Table split lengthways by bank of flowers._

MRS. HERRIOTT. (_After conversation has risen to proper pitch._) Ah! 'Didn't see you in the crush in the drawing-room. (_Sotto voce._) Where _have_ you been all this while, Pip?

CAPTAIN GADSBY. (_Turning from regularly ordained dinner partner and settling hock glasses._) Good evening. (_Sotto voce._) Not quite so loud another time. You've no notion how your voice carries. (_Aside._) So much for shirking the written explanation. It'll have to be a verbal one now. Sweet prospect! How on earth am I to tell her that I am a respectable, engaged member of society and it's all over between us?

MRS. H. I've a heavy score against you. Where were you at the Monday Pop? Where were you on Tuesday? Where were you at the Lamonts' tennis? I was looking everywhere.

CAPT. G. For me! Oh, I was alive somewhere, I suppose. (_Aside_.) It's for Minnie's sake, but it's going to be dashed unpleasant.

MRS. H. Have I done anything to offend you? I never meant it if I have. I couldn't help going for a ride with the Vaynor man. It was promised a week before you came up.

CAPT. G. I didn't know--

MRS. H. It really _was_.

CAPT. G. Anything about it, I mean.

MRS. H. What has upset you to-day? All these days? You haven't been near me for four whole days--nearly one hundred hours. Was it _kind_ of you, Pip? And I've been looking forward so much to your coming.

CAPT. G. Have you?

MRS. H. You _know_ I have! I've been as foolish as a schoolgirl about it. I made a little calendar and put it in my card-case, and every time the twelve o'clock gun went off I scratched out a square and said: 'That brings me nearer to Pip. _My_ Pip!'

CAPT. G. (_With an uneasy laugh_.) What will Mackler think if you neglect him so?

MRS. H. And it hasn't brought you nearer. You seem farther away than ever. Are you sulking about something? I know your temper.

CAPT. G. No.

MRS. H. Have I grown old in the last few months, then? (_Reaches forward to bank of flowers for menu-card_.)

MRS. H. (_To partner_.) Oh, thanks. I didn't see.

MRS. H. _Keeps her arm at full stretch for three seconds_.

PARTNER ON LEFT. Allow me. (_Hands menu-card_.) (_Turns right again_.) Is anything in me changed at all?

CAPT. G. For Goodness' sake go on with your dinner! You must eat something. Try one of those cutlet arrangements. (_Aside_.) And I fancied she had good shoulders, once upon a time! What an ass a man can make of himself!

MRS. H. (_Helping herself to a paper frill, seven peas, some stamped carrots and a spoonful of gravy_.) That isn't an answer. Tell me whether I have done anything.

CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) If it isn't ended here there will be a ghastly scene somewhere else. If only I'd written to her and stood the racket--at long range! (_To Khitmatgar_.) _Han! Simpkin do._ (_Aloud_.) I'll tell you later on.

MRS. H. Tell me _now_. It must be some foolish misunderstanding, and you know that there was to be nothing of that sort between us. _We_, of all people in the world, can't afford it. Is it the Vaynor man, and don't you like to say so? On my honour--

CAPT. G. I haven't given the Vaynor man a thought.

MRS. H. But how d'you know that _I_ haven't?

CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) Here's my chance and may the Devil help me through with it. (_Aloud and measuredly_.) Believe me, I do not care how often or how tenderly you think of the Vaynor man.

MRS. H. I wonder if you mean that.--Oh, what _is_ the good of squabbling and pretending to misunderstand when you are only up for so short a time? Pip, don't be a stupid!

_Follows a pause, during which he crosses his left leg over his right and continues his dinner_.

CAPT. G. (_In answer to the thunderstorm in her eyes_.) Corns--my worst.

MRS. H. Upon my word, you are the very rudest man in the world! I'll _never_ do it again.

CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) No, I don't think you will; but I wonder what you will do before it's all over. (_To Khitmatgar_.) _Thorah ur Simpkin do_.

MRS. H. Well! Haven't you the grace to apologise, bad man?

CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) I mustn't let it drift back _now_. Trust a woman for being as blind as a bat when she won't see.

MRS. H. I'm waiting: or would you like me to dictate a form of apology?

CAPT. G. (_Desperately_.) By all means dictate.

MRS. H. (_Lightly_.) Very well. Rehearse your several Christian names after me and go on: 'Profess my sincere repentance.'

CAPT. G. 'Sincere repentance.'

MRS. H. 'For having behaved--'

CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) At last! I wish to Goodness she'd look away. 'For having behaved'--as I have behaved, and declare that I am thoroughly and heartily sick of the whole business, and take this opportunity of making clear my intention of ending it, now, henceforward, and for ever. (_Aside_.) If any one had told me I should be such a blackguard--!

MRS. H. (_Shaking a spoonful of potato chips into her plate_.) That's not a pretty joke.

CAPT. G. No. It's a reality. (_Aside_.) I wonder if smashes of this kind are always so raw.

MRS. H. Really, Pip, you're getting more absurd every day.

CAPT. G. I don't think you quite understand me. Shall I repeat it?

MRS. H. No! For pity's sake don't do that. It's too terrible, even in fun.

CAPT. G. I'll let her think it over for a while. But I ought to be horse-whipped.

MRS. H. I want to know what you meant by what you said just now.

CAPT. G. Exactly what I said. No less.

MRS. H. But what have I done to deserve it? What _have_ I done?

CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) If she only wouldn't look at me. (_Aloud and very slowly, his eyes on his plate_.) D'you remember that evening in July, before the Rains broke, when you said that the end would have to come sooner or later--and you wondered for which of us it would come first?

MRS. H. Yes! I was only joking. And you swore that, as long as there was breath in your body, it should _never_ come. And I believed you.

CAPT. G. (_Fingering menu-card_) Well, it has. That's all.

_A long pause, during which MRS. H. bows her head and rolls the bread-twist into little pellets:_ G. _stares at the oleanders_.

MRS. H. (_Throwing back her head and laughing naturally_.) They train us women well, don't they, Pip?

CAPT. G. (_Brutally, touching shirt-stud_.) So far as the expression goes. (_Aside_.) It isn't in her nature to take things quietly. There'll be an explosion yet.

MRS. H. (_With a shudder_.) Thank you. B-but even Red Indians allow people to wriggle when they're being tortured, I believe. (_Slips fan from girdle and fans slowly: rim of fan level with chin_.)

PARTNER ON LEFT. Very close to-night, isn't it? 'You find it too much for you?

MRS. H. Oh, no, not in the least. But they really ought to have punkahs, even in your cool Naini Tal, oughtn't they? (_Turns, dropping fan and raising eyebrows_.)

CAPT. G. It's all right. (_Aside_.) Here comes the storm!

MRS. H. (_Her eyes on the tablecloth: fan ready in right hand_.) It was very cleverly managed, Pip, and I congratulate you. You swore--you never contented yourself with merely saying a thing--you _swore_ that, as far as lay in your power, you'd make my wretched life pleasant for me. And you've denied me the consolation of breaking down. I should have done it--indeed I should. A woman would hardly have thought of this refinement, my kind, considerate friend. (_Fan-guard as before_.) You have explained things so tenderly and truthfully, too! You haven't spoken or written a word of warning, and you have let me believe in you till the last minute. You haven't condescended to give me your _reason_ yet. No! A woman could not have managed it half so well. Are there many _men_ like you in the world?

CAPT. G. I'm sure I don't know. (_To Khitmatgar_.) Ohe! _Simpkin do_.

MRS. H. You call yourself a man of the world, don't you? Do men of the world behave like Devils when they do a woman the honour to get tired of her?

CAPT. G. I'm sure I don't know. Don't speak so loud!

MRS. H. Keep us respectable, O Lord, whatever happens! Don't be afraid of my compromising you. You've chosen your ground far too well, and I've been properly brought up. (_Lowering fan_.) Haven't you _any_ pity, Pip, except for yourself?

CAPT. G. Wouldn't it be rather impertinent of me to say that I'm sorry for you?

MRS. H. I think you have said it once or twice before. You're growing very careful of my feelings. My God, Pip, I was a good woman once! You _said_ I was. You've made me what I am. What are you going to do with me? What are you going to do with me? Won't you _say_ that you are sorry? (_Helps herself to iced asparagus_.)

CAPT. G. I am sorry for you, if you want the pity of such a brute as I am. I'm _awf'ly_ sorry for you.

MRS. H. Rather tame for a man of the world. Do you think that that admission clears you?

CAPT. G. What can I do? I can only tell you what I think of myself. You can't think worse than that?

MRS. H. Oh, yes, I can! And now, will you tell me the reason of all this? Remorse? Has Bayard been suddenly conscience-stricken?

CAPT. G. (_Angrily, his eyes still lowered_.) No! The thing has come to an end on my side. That's all. _Mafisch!_

MRS. H. 'That's all. _Mafisch!_' As though I were a Cairene Dragoman. You used to make prettier speeches. D'you remember when you said---?

CAPT. G. For Heaven's sake don't bring that back! Call me anything you like and I'll admit it--

MRS. H. But you don't care to be reminded of old lies? If I could hope to hurt you one-tenth as much as you have hurt me to-night--No, I wouldn't--I couldn't do it--liar though you are.

CAPT. G. I've spoken the truth.

MRS. H. My _dear_ Sir, you flatter yourself. You have lied over the reason. Pip, remember that I know you as you don't know yourself. You have been everything to me, though you are--(_Fan-guard_.) Oh, what a contemptible _Thing_ it is! And so you are merely tired of me?

CAPT. G. Since you insist upon my repeating it--Yes.

MRS. H. Lie the first. I wish I knew a coarser word. Lie seems so ineffectual in your case. The fire has just died out and there is no fresh one? Think for a minute, Pip, if you care whether I despise you more than I do. Simply _Mafisch_, is it?

CAPT. G. Yes. (_Aside_.) I think I deserve this.

MRS. H. Lie number two. Before the next glass chokes you, tell me her name.

CAPT. G. (_Aside_.). I'll make her pay for dragging Minnie into the business! (_Aloud_.) Is it likely?

MRS. H. _Very_ likely if you thought that it would flatter your vanity. You'd cry my name on the house-tops to make people turn round.

CAPT. G. I wish I had. There would have been an end of this business.

MRS. H. Oh, no, there would not--And so you were going to be virtuous and _blase_, were you? To come to me and say: 'I've done with you. The incident is clo-osed.' I ought to be proud of having kept such a man so long.

CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) It only remains to pray for the end of the dinner. (_Aloud_.) You know what I think of myself.

MRS. H. As it's the only person in the world you ever _do_ think of, and as I know your mind thoroughly, I do. You want to get it all over and--Oh, I can't keep you back! And you're going--think of it, Pip--to throw me over for another woman. And you swore that all other women were--Pip, my Pip! She _can't_ care for you as I do. Believe me, she can't! Is it any one that I know?

CAPT. G. Thank Goodness it isn't. (_Aside_.) I expected a cyclone, but not an earthquake.

MRS. H. She _can't!_ Is there anything that I wouldn't do for you--or haven't done? And to think that I should take this trouble over you, knowing what you are! Do you despise me for it?

CAPT. G. (_Wiping his mouth to hide a smile_.) _Again?_ It's entirely a work of charity on your part.

MRS. H. Ahhh! But I have no right to resent it.--Is she better-looking than I? Who was it said--?

CAPT G. No--not that!

MRS. H. I'll be more merciful than you were. Don't you know that all women are alike?

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) Then this is the exception that proves the rule.

MRS. H. _All_ of them! I'll tell you anything you like. I will, upon my word! They only want the admiration--from anybody--no matter who--anybody! But there is always _one_ man that they care for more than any one else in the world, and would sacrifice all the others to. Oh, _do_ listen! I've kept the Vaynor man trotting after me like a poodle, and he believes that he is the only man I am interested in. I'll tell you what he said to me.

CAPT. G. Spare him. (_Aside._) I wonder what _his_ version is.

MRS. H. He's been waiting for me to look at him all through dinner. Shall I do it, and you can see what an idiot he looks?

CAPT. G. 'But what imports the nomination of this gentleman?'

MRS. H. Watch! (_Sends a glance to the Vaynor man, who tries vainly to combine a mouthful of ice pudding, a smirk of self-satisfaction, a glare of intense devotion, and the stolidity of a British dining countenance._)

CAPT. G. (_Critically._) He doesn't look pretty. Why didn't you wait till the spoon was out of his mouth?

MRS. H. To amuse you. She'll make an exhibition of you as I've made of him; and people will laugh at you. Oh, Pip, can't you see that? It's as plain as the noonday sun. You'll be trotted about and told lies, and made a fool of like the others. _I_ never made a fool of you, did I?

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) What a clever little woman it is!

MRS. H. Well, what have you to say?

CAPT. G. I feel better.

MRS. H. Yes, I suppose so, after I have come down to your level. I couldn't have done it if I hadn't cared for you so much. I have spoken the truth.

CAPT. G. It doesn't alter the situation.

MRS. H. (_Passionately._) Then she _has_ said that she cares for you! Don't believe her, Pip. It's a lie--as bad as yours to me!

CAPT. G. Ssssteady! I've a notion that a friend of yours is looking at you.

MRS. H. He! I _hate_ him. He introduced you to me.

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) And some people would like women to assist in making the laws. Introduction to imply condonement. (_Aloud._) Well, you see, if you can remember so far back as that, I couldn't, in common politeness, refuse the offer.

MRS. H. In common politeness! We have got beyond _that!_

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) Old ground means fresh trouble, (_Aloud._) On my honour--

MRS. H. Your _what?_ Ha, ha!

CAPT. G. Dishonour, then. She's not what you imagine. I meant to--

MRS. H. Don't tell me anything about her! She _won't_ care for you, and when you come back, after having made an exhibition of yourself, you'll find me occupied with--

CAPT. G. (_Insolently._) You couldn't while I am alive. (_Aside._) If that doesn't bring her pride to her rescue, nothing will.

MRS. H. (_Drawing herself up_). Couldn't do it? _I?_ (_Softening._) You're right. I don't believe I could--though you are what you are--a coward and a liar in grain.

CAPT. G. It doesn't hurt so much after your little lecture--with demonstrations.

MRS. H. One mass of vanity! Will nothing _ever_ touch you in this life? There must be a Hereafter if it's only for the benefit of---But you will have it all to yourself.

CAPT. G. (_Under his eyebrows._) Are you so certain of that?

MRS. H. I shall have had mine in this life; and it will serve me right.

CAPT. G. But the admiration that you insisted on so strongly a moment ago? (_Aside._) Oh, I _am_ a brute!

MRS. H. (_Fiercely._) Will _that_ console me for knowing that you will go to her with the same words, the same arguments, and the--the same pet names you used to me? And if she cares for you, you two will laugh over my story. Won't that be punishment heavy enough even for me--even for me?--And it's all useless. That's another punishment.

CAPT. G. (_Feebly._) Oh, come! I'm not so low as you think.

MRS. H. Not now, perhaps, but you will be. Oh, Pip, if a woman flatters your vanity, there's nothing on earth that you would not tell her; and no meanness that you would not do. Have I known you so long without knowing that?

CAPT. G. If you can trust me in nothing else--and I don't see why I should be trusted--you can count upon my holding my tongue.

MRS. H. If you denied everything you've said this evening and declared it was all in fun (_a long pause_), I'd trust you. Not otherwise. All I ask is, don't tell her my name. _Please_ don't. A man might forget: a woman never would. (_Looks up table and sees hostess beginning to collect eyes._) So it's all ended, through no fault of mine--Haven't I behaved beautifully? I've accepted your dismissal, and you managed it as cruelly as you could, and I have made you respect my sex, haven't I? (_Arranging gloves and fan._) I only pray that she'll know you some day as I know you now. I wouldn't be you then, for I think even your conceit will be hurt. I hope she'll pay you back the humiliation you've brought on me. I hope--No. I don't. I _can't_ give you up! I must have something to look forward to or I shall go crazy. When it's all over, come back to me, come back to me, and you'll find that you're my Pip still!

CAPT. G. (_Very clearly._) 'False move, and you pay for it. It's a girl!

MRS. H. (_Rising._) Then it _was_ true! They said--but I wouldn't insult you by asking. A girl! _I_ was a girl not very long ago. Be good to her, Pip. I daresay she believes in you.

_Goes out with an uncertain smile. He watches her through the door, and settles into a chair as the men redistribute themselves._

CAPT. G. Now, if there is any Power who looks after this world, will He kindly tell me what I have done? (_Reaching out for the claret, and half aloud._) What _have_ I done?

WITH ANY AMAZEMENT

And are not afraid with any amazement.--_Marriage service_.

SCENE.--_A bachelor's bedroom--toilet-table arranged with unnatural neatness_. CAPTAIN GADSBY _asleep and snoring heavily._ Time, 10.30 A. M.--_a glorious autumn day at Simla. Enter delicately_ CAPTAIN MAFFLIM of GADSBY'S regiment. Looks at sleeper, and shakes his head murmuring 'Poor Gaddy.' Performs violent fantasia with hair-brushes on chair-back.

CAPT. M. Wake up, my sleeping beauty! (_Roars_.)

'Uprouse ye, then, my merry merry men!
It is our opening day!
It is our opening da-ay!'

Gaddy, the little dicky-birds have been billing and cooing for ever so long; and I'm here!

CAPT. G. (_Sitting up and yawning_.) 'Mornin'. This is awf'ly good of you, old fellow. Most awf'ly good of you. 'Don't know what I should do without you. On my soul, I don't. 'Haven't slept a wink all night.

CAPT. M. I didn't get in till half-past eleven. 'Had a look at you then, and you seemed to be sleeping as soundly as a condemned criminal.

CAPT. G. Jack, if you want to make those disgustingly worn-out jokes, you'd better go away. (With _portentous gravity_.) It's the happiest day in my life.

CAPT. M. (Chuckling grimly.) Not by a very long chalk, my son. You're going through some of the most refined torture you've ever known. But be calm. I am with you. 'Shun! _Dress_!

CAPT. G. Eh! Wha-at?

CAPT. M. DO you suppose that you are your own master for the next twelve hours? If you _do_, of course---(_Makes for the door_.)

CAPT. G. No! For Goodness' sake, old man, don't do that! You'll see me through, won't you? I've been mugging up that beastly drill, and can't remember a line of it.

CAPT. M. (_Overhauling_ G's _uniform_.) Go and tub. Don't bother me. I'll give you ten minutes to dress in.

_Interval, filled by the noise as of one splashing in the bath-room_.

CAPT. G. (_Emerging from dressing-room_.) What time is it?

CAPT. M. Nearly eleven.

CAPT. G. Five hours more. O Lord!

CAPT. M. (_Aside_.) 'First sign of funk, that. 'Wonder if it's going to spread. (Aloud.) Come along to breakfast.

CAPT. G. I can't eat anything. I don't want any breakfast.

CAPT. M. (_Aside_.) So early! (_Aloud_.) Captain Gadsby, I _order_ you to eat breakfast, and a dashed good breakfast, too. None of your bridal airs and graces with me!

Leads G. _downstairs, and stands over him while he eats two chops_.

CAPT. G. (_Who has looked at his watch thrice in the last five minutes_.) What time is it?

CAPT. M. Time to come for a walk. Light up.

CAPT. G. I haven't smoked for ten days, and I won't _now_. (_Takes cheroot which M. has cut for him, and blows smoke through his nose luxuriously_.) We aren't going down the Mall, are we?

CAPT. M. (_Aside_.) They're all alike in these stages. (_Aloud_.) No, my Vestal. We're going along the quietest road we can find.

CAPT. G. Any chance of seeing Her?

CAPT. M. Innocent! No! Come along, and, if you want me for the final obsequies, don't cut my eye out with your stick.

CAPT. G. (_Spinning round_.) I say, isn't She the dearest creature that ever walked? What's the time? What comes after 'wilt thou take this woman'?

CAPT. M, You go for the ring. R'clect it'll be on the top of my right-hand little ringer, and just be careful how you draw it off, because I shall have the Verger's fees somewhere in my glove.

CAPT. G. (_Walking forward hastily_.) D---the Verger! Come along! It's past twelve and I haven't seen Her since yesterday evening. (Spinning round again.) She's an absolute angel, Jack, and She's a dashed deal too good for me. Look here, does She come up the aisle on my arm, or how?

CAPT. M. If I thought that there was the least chance of your remembering anything for two consecutive minutes, I'd tell you. Stop passaging about like that!

CAPT. G. (_Halting in the middle of the road_.) I say, Jack.

CAPT. M. Keep quiet for another ten minutes if you can, you lunatic; and _walk!_

_The two tramp at five miles an hour for fifteen minutes_.

CAPT. G. What's the time? How about that cursed wedding-cake and the slippers? They don't throw 'em about in church, do they?

CAPT. M. In-variably. The Padre leads off with his boots.

CAPT. G. Confound your silly soul! Don't make fun of me. I can't stand it, and I won't!

CAPT. M. (_Untroubled_.) So-ooo, old horse! You'll have to sleep for a couple of hours this afternoon.

CAPT. G. (_Spinning round_) I'm _not_ going to be treated like a dashed child. Understand that!

CAPT. M. (_Aside_) Nerves gone to fiddle-strings. What a day we're having! (_Tenderly putting his hand on G's. shoulder_) My David, how long have you known this Jonathan? Would I come up here to make a fool of you-after all these years?

CAPT. G. (_Penitently_.) I know, I know, Jack--but I'm as upset as I can be. Don't mind what I say. Just hear me run through the drill and see if I've got it all right:---

'To have and to hold for better or worse, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, so help me God. Amen.'

CAPT. M. (_Suffocating with suppressed laughter_) Yes. That's about the gist of it. I'll prompt if you get into a hat.

CAPT. G. (_Earnestly_) Yes, you'll stick by me, Jack, won't you? I'm awf'ly happy, but I don't mind telling YOU that I'm in a blue funk!

CAPT. M. (_Gravely_) Are you? I should never have noticed it. You don't LOOK like it.

CAPT. G. Don't I? That's all right. (_Spinning round_.) On my soul and honour, Jack, She's the sweetest little angel that ever came down from the sky. There isn't a woman on earth fit to speak to Her.

CAPT. M. (_Aside_.) And this is old Gaddy! (_Aloud_.) Go on if it relieves you.

CAPT. G. You can laugh! That's all you wild asses of bachelors are fit for.

CAPT. M. (_Drawling_.) You never WOULD wait for the troop to come up. You aren't quite married yet, y' know.

CAPT. G. Ugh! That reminds me. I don't believe I shall be able to get into my boots. Let's go home and try 'em on! (_Hurries forward_.)

CAPT. M. 'Wouldn't be in _your_ shoes for anything that Asia has to offer.

CAPT. G. (_Spinning round_.) That just shows your hideous blackness of soul-your dense stupidity-your brutal narrow-mindedness. There's only one fault about you. You're the best of good fellows, and I don't know what I should have done without you, but-you aren't married. (_Wags his head gravely_.) Take a wife, Jack.

CAPT. M. (_With a face like a wall_.) Ya-as. Whose for choice?

CAPT. G. If you're going to be a blackguard, I'm going on--What's the time?

CAPT. M. (_Hums_.)---

'An' since 'twas very clear we drank only ginger-beer,
Faith, there must ha'been some stingo in the ginger.'

Come back, you maniac. I'm going to take you home, and you're going to lie down.

CAPT. G. What on earth do I want to lie down for?

CAPT. M. Give me a light from your cheroot and see.

CAPT. G. (_Watching cheroot-butt quiver like a tuning-fork_.) Sweet state I'm in!

CAPT. M. You are. I'll get you a peg and you'll go to sleep.

_They return and M. compounds a four-finger peg_.

CAPT. G. O _bus! bus!_ It'll make me as drunk as an owl.

CAPT. M. Curious thing, 'twon't have the slightest effect on you. Drink it off, chuck yourself down there, and go to bye-bye.

CAPT. G. It's absurd. I shan't sleep. I _know_ I shan't!

_Falls into heavy doze at end of seven minutes_. CAPT. M.
_watches him tenderly_.

CAPT. M. Poor old Gaddy! I've seen a few turned off before, but never one who went to the gallows in this condition. 'Can't tell how it affects 'em, though. It's the thoroughbreds that sweat when they're backed into double-harness.-And that's the man who went through the guns at Amdheran like a devil possessed of devils. (_Leans over_ G.) But this is worse than the guns, old pal--worse than the guns, isn't it? (_G. turns in his sleep, and M. touches him clumsily on the forehead_.) Poor, dear old Gaddy! Going like the rest of 'em-going like the rest of 'em---Friend that sticketh closer than a brother---eight years. Dashed bit of a slip of a girl-eight weeks! And-where's your friend? (_Smokes disconsolately till church clock strikes three_.)

CAPT. M. Up with you! Get into your kit.

CAPT. G. Already? Isn't it too soon? Hadn't I better have a shave?

CAPT. M. NO! You're all right. (_Aside_.) He'd chip his chin to pieces.

CAPT. G. What's the hurry?

CAPT. M. You've got to be there first.

CAPT. G. To be stared at?

CAPT. M. Exactly. You're part of the show. Where's the burnisher? Your spurs are in a shameful state.

CAPT. G. (_Gruffly_) Jack, I be damned if you shall do that for me.

CAPT. M. (_More gruffly._) Dry up and get dressed! If I choose to clean your spurs, you're under _my_ orders.

CAPT. G. _dresses_. M. _follows suit._

CAPT. M. (_Critically, walking round._) M'yes, you'll do. Only don't look so like a criminal. Ring, gloves, fees--that's all right for me. Let your moustache alone. Now, if the ponies are ready, we'll go.

CAPT. G. (_Nervously._) It's much too soon. Let's light up! Let's have a peg! Let's--

CAPT. M. Let's make bally asses of ourselves!

BELLS. (_Without._)--

'Good--peo--ple--all
To prayers--we call.”

CAPT. M. There go the bells! Come on--unless you'd rather not. (_They ride off._)

BELLS.--

'We honour the King
And Brides joy do bring--
Good tidings we tell,
And ring the Dead's knell.'

CAPT. G. (_Dismounting at the door of the Church._) I say, aren't we much too soon? There are no end of people inside. I say, aren't we much too late? Stick by me, Jack! What the devil do I do?

CAPT. M. Strike an attitude at the head of the aisle and wait for Her. (G. _groans as_ M. _wheels him into position before three hundred eyes._)

CAPT. M. (_Imploringly._) Gaddy, if you love me, for pity's sake, for the Honour of the Regiment, stand up! Chuck yourself into your uniform! Look like a man! I've got to speak to the Padre a minute. (G. _breaks into a gentle perspiration._) If you wipe your face I'll _never_ be your best man again. Stand _up!_ (G. _trembles visibly._)

CAPT. M. (_Returning._) She's coming now. Look out when the music starts. There's the organ beginning to clack.

_Bride steps out of 'rickshaw at Church door._ G. _catches a glimpse of her and takes heart._

ORGAN.--

'The Voice that breathed o'er Eden,
That earliest marriage day,
The primal marriage-blessing,
It hath not passed away.'

CAPT. M. (_Watching_ G.) By Jove! He _is_ looking well. 'Didn't think he had it in him.

CAPT. G. How long does this hymn go on for?

CAPT. M. It will be over directly. (_Anxiously._) Beginning to bleach and gulp? Hold on, Gaddy, and think o' the Regiment.

CAPT. G. (_Measuredly._) I say, there's a big brown lizard crawling up that wall.

CAPT. M. My Sainted Mother! The last stage of collapse!

_Bride comes up to left of altar, lifts her eyes once to_ G. _who is suddenly smitten mad._

CAPT. G. (_To himself again and again._) Little Featherweight's a woman--a woman! And I thought she was a little girl.

CAPT. M. (_In a whisper._) Form the halt--inward _wheel._

CAPT. G. _obeys mechanically and the ceremony proceeds._

PADRE. . . . only unto her as long as ye both shall live?

CAPT. G. (_His throat useless._) Ha-hmmm!

CAPT. M. Say you will or you won't. There's no second deal here.

_Bride gives response with perfect coolness, and is given away by the father._

CAPT. G. (_Thinking to show his learning._) Jack, give me away now, _quick!_

CAPT. M. You're given yourself away quite enough. Her _right_ hand, man! Repeat! Repeat! 'Theodore Philip.' Have you forgotten your own name?

CAPT. G. _stumbles through Affirmation, which Bride repeats without a tremor._

CAPT. M. Now the ring! Follow the Padre! Don't pull off my glove! Here it is! Great Cupid, he's found his voice!

G. _repeats Troth in a voice to be heard to the end of the Church and turns on his heel._

CAPT. M. (_Desperately._) Rein back! Back to your troop! 'Tisn't half legal yet.

PADRE. . . . joined together let no man put asunder.

CAPT. G. _paralysed with fear jibs after Blessing._

CAPT. M. (_Quickly._) On your own front--one length. Take her with you. I don't come. You've nothing to say. (CAPT. G. _jingles up to altar._)

CAPT. M. (_In a piercing rattle meant to be a whisper._)
Kneel, you stiff-necked ruffian! Kneel!

PADRE. . . . whose daughters are ye so long as ye do well and are not afraid with any amazement.

CAPT. M. Dismiss! Break off! Left wheel!
_All troop to vestry. They sign._

CAPT. M. Kiss Her, Gaddy.

CAPT. G. (_Rubbing the ink into his glove._) Eh! Wha--at?

CAPT. M. (_Taking one pace to Bride._) If you don't, I shall.

CAPT. G. (_Interposing an arm._) Not this journey!

_General kissing, in which_ CAPT. G. _is pursued by
unknown female._

CAPT. G. (_Faintly to_ M.) This is Hades! Can I wipe my face now?

CAPT. M. My responsibility has ended. Better ask _Missis_ Gadsby.

CAPT. G. _winces as though shot and procession is
Mendelssohned out of Church to house, where usual
tortures take place over the wedding-cake._

CAPT. M. (_At table._) Up with you, Gaddy. They expect a speech.

CAPT. G. (_After three minutes' agony._) Ha-hmmm. (_Thunders of applause._)

CAPT. M. Doocid good, for a first attempt. Now go and change your kit while Mamma is weeping over--'the Missus.' (CAPT. G. _disappears._ CAPT. M. _starts up tearing his hair._) It's not _half_ legal. Where are the shoes? Get an _ayah._

AYAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone _band karo_ all the _jutis._

CAPT. M. (_Brandishing scabbarded sword._) Woman, produce those shoes! Some one lend me a bread-knife. We mustn't crack Gaddy's head more than it is. (_Slices heel off white satin slipper and puts slipper up his sleeve._) Where is the Bride? (_To the company at large._) Be tender with that rice. It's a heathen custom. Give me the big bag.

_Bride slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs
towards the sunset._

CAPT. M. (_In the open._) Stole away, by Jove! So much, the worse for Gaddy! Here he is. Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than Amdheran! Where's your horse?

CAPT. G. (_Furiously, seeing that the women are out of earshot._) Where the ---- is my _Wife?_

CAPT. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You'll have to ride like Young Lochinvar.

_Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him._

CAPT. G. Oh you will, will you? Get round, you brute-you hog-you beast! Get _round!_

_Wrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lower jaw; swings himself into saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a spattering gale of Best Patna._

CAPT. M. For your life and your love--ride, Gaddy!--And God bless you!

_Throws half a pound of rice at G., who disappears, bowed forward on the saddle, in a cloud of sunlit dust._

CAPT. M. I've lost old Gaddy. (_Lights cigarette and strolls off, singing absently_):--

'You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on his card,
That a young man married is a young man marred!'

MISS DEERCOURT. (_From her horse._) Really, Captain Mafflin! You are more plain spoken than polite!

CAPT. M. (_Aside._) They say marriage is like cholera. 'Wonder who'll be the next victim.

_White satin slipper slides from his sleeve and falls at his feet. Left wondering._

THE GARDEN OF EDEN

And ye shall be as--Gods!

SCENE.--_Thymy grass-plot at back of the Mahasu dak-bungalow, overlooking little wooded valley. On the left, glimpse of the Dead Forest of Fagoo; on the right, Simla Hills. In background, line of the Snows._ CAPTAIN GADSBY, _now three weeks a husband, is smoking the pipe of peace on a rug in the sunshine. Banjo and tobacco-pouch on rug. Overhead the Fagoo eagles._ MRS. G. _comes out of bungalow._

MRS. G. My husband!

CAPT. G. (_Lazily, with intense enjoyment._) Eh, wha-at? Say that again.

MRS. G. I've written to Mamma and told her that we shall be back on the 17th.

CAPT. G. Did you give her my love?

MRS. G. No, I kept all that for myself. (_Sitting down by his side._) I thought you wouldn't mind.

CAPT. G. (_With mock sternness._) I object awf'ly. How did you know that it was yours to keep?

MRS. G. I guessed, Phil.

CAPT. G. (_Rapturously._) _Lit-tle_ Featherweight!

MRS. G. I _won't_ be called those sporting pet names, bad boy.

CAPT. G. You'll be called anything I choose. Has it ever occurred to you, Madam, that you are my Wife?

MRS. G. It has. I haven't ceased wondering at it yet.

CAPT. G. Nor I. It seems so strange; and yet, somehow, it doesn't. (_Confidently._) You see, it could have been no one else.

MRS. G. (_Softly._) No. No one else--for me or for you. It must have been _all_ arranged from the beginning. Phil, tell me again what made you care for me.

CAPT. G. How could I help it? You were _you_, you know.

MRS. G. Did you ever want to help it? Speak the truth!

CAPT. G. (_A twinkle in his eye._) I did, darling, just at the first. But only at the very first. (_Chuckles._) I called you--stoop low and I'll whisper--'a little beast.' Ho! Ho! Ho!

MRS. G. (_Taking him by the moustache and making him sit up._) 'A--little--beast!' Stop laughing over your crime! And yet you had the--the--awful cheek to propose to me!

CAPT. G. I'd changed my mind then. And you weren't a little beast any more.

MRS. G. Thank you, Sir! And when was I ever?

CAPT. G. _Never!_ But that first day, when you gave me tea in that peach-coloured muslin gown thing, you looked--you did indeed, dear--such an absurd little mite. And I didn't know what to say to you.

MRS. G. (_Twisting moustache._) So you said 'little beast.' Upon my word, Sir! _I_ called _you_ a 'Crrrreature,' but I wish now I had called you something worse.

CAPT. G. (_Very meekly._) I apologise, but you're hurting me awf'ly. (_Interlude._) You're welcome to torture me again on those terms.

MRS. G. Oh, _why_ did you let me do it?

CAPT. G. (_Looking across valley._) No reason in particular, but--if it amused you or did you any good--you might--wipe those dear little boots of yours on me.

MRS. G. (_Stretching out her hands._) Don't! Oh, don't! Philip, my King, _please_ don't talk like that. It's how _I_ feel. You're so much too good for me. So much too good!

CAPT. G. Me! I'm not fit to put my arm round you. (_Puts it round._)

MRS. G. Yes, you are. But I--what have I ever done?

CAPT. G. Given me a wee bit of your heart, haven't you, my Queen?

MRS. G. _That's_ nothing. Any one would do _that._ They cou--couldn't help it.

CAPT. G. Pussy, you'll make me horribly conceited. Just when I was beginning to feel so humble, too.

MRS. G. Humble! I don't believe it's in your character.

CAPT. G. What do you know of my character, Impertinence?

MRS. G. Ah, but I shall, shan't I, Phil? I shall have time in all the years and years to come, to know everything about you; and there will be no secrets between us.

CAPT. G. Little witch! I believe you know me thoroughly already.

MRS. G. I think I can guess. You're selfish?

CAPT. G. Yes.

MRS. G. Foolish?

CAPT. G. _Very._

MRS. G. And a dear?

CAPT. G. That is as my lady pleases.

MRS. G. Then your lady _is_ pleased. (_A pause._) D'you know that we're two solemn, serious, grown-up people--

CAPT. G. (_Tilting her straw hat over her eyes._) You grown-up! Pooh! You're a baby.

MRS. G. And we're talking nonsense.

CAPT. G. Then let's go on talking nonsense. I rather like it. Pussy, I'll tell you a secret. Promise not to repeat?

MRS. G. Ye--es. Only to you.

CAPT. G. I love you.

MRS. G. Re-ally! For how long?

CAPT. G. For ever and ever.

MRS. G. That's a long time.

CAPT. G. 'Think so? It's the shortest _I_ can do with.

MRS. G. You're getting quite clever.

CAPT. G. I'm talking to _you._

MRS. G. Prettily turned. Hold up your stupid old head and I'll pay you for it!

CAPT. G. (_Affecting supreme contempt._) Take it yourself if you want it.

MRS. G. I've a great mind to--and I will! (_Takes it and is repaid with interest._)

CAPT. G. Little Featherweight, it's my opinion that we _are_ a couple of idiots.

MRS. G. We're the only two sensible people in the world! Ask the eagle. He's coming by.

CAPT. G. Ah! I dare say he's seen a good many sensible people at Mahasu. They say that those birds live for ever so long.

MRS. G. How long?

CAPT. G. A hundred and twenty years.

MRS. G. A hundred and twenty years! O-oh! And in a hundred and twenty years where will these two sensible people be?

CAPT. G. What _does_ it matter so long as we are together now?

MRS. G. (_Looking round the horizon._) Yes. Only you and I--I and you--in the whole wide, wide world until the end. (_Sees the line of the Snows._) How big and quiet the hills look! D'you think they care for us?

CAPT. G. 'Can't say I've consulted 'em particularly. _I_ care, and that's enough for me.

MRS. G. (_Drawing nearer to him._) Yes, now--but afterwards. What's that little black blur on the Snows?

CAPT. G. A snowstorm, forty miles away. You'll see it move, as the wind carries it across the face of that spur, and then it will be all gone.

MRS. G. And then it will be all gone. (_Shivers._)

CAPT. G. (_Anxiously._) 'Not chilled, pet, are you? 'Better let me get your cloak.

MRS. G. No. Don't leave me, Phil. Stay here. I believe I am afraid. Oh, why are the hills so _horrid!_ Phil, promise me, promise me that you'll _always_ love me.

CAPT. G. What's the trouble, darling? I can't promise any more than I have; but I'll promise that again and again if you like.

MRS. G. (_Her head on his shoulder._) _Say_ it, then--say it! N-no--don't! The--the--eagles would laugh. (_Recovering._) My husband, you've married a little goose.

CAPT. G. (_Very tenderly._) Have I? I am content whatever she is, so long as she is mine.

MRS. G. (_Quickly._) Because she is yours or because she is me mineself?

CAPT. G. Because she is both. (_Piteously._) I'm not clever, dear, and I don't think I can make myself understood properly.

MRS. G. _I_ understand. Pip, will you tell me something?

CAPT. G. Anything you like. (_Aside._) I wonder what's coming now.

MRS. G. (_Haltingly, her eyes lowered._) You told me once in the old days--centuries and centuries ago--that you had been engaged before. I didn't say anything--_then._

CAPT. G. (_Innocently._) Why not?

MRS. G. (_Raising her eyes to his._) Because--because I was afraid of losing you, my heart. But now--tell about it--_please._

CAPT. G. There's nothing to tell. I was awf'ly old then--nearly two and twenty--and she was _quite_ that.

MRS. G. That means she was older than you. I shouldn't like her to have been younger. Well?

CAPT. G. Well, I fancied myself in love and raved about a bit, and--oh, yes, by Jove! I made up poetry. Ha! Ha!

MRS. G. You never wrote any for _me!_ What happened?

CAPT. G. I came out here, and the whole thing went _phut._ She wrote to say that there had been a mistake, and then she married.

MRS. G. Did she care for you much?

CAPT. G. No. At least she didn't show it as far as I remember.

MRS. G. As far as you remember! Do you remember her name? (_Hears it and bows her head._) Thank you, my husband.

CAPT. G. Who but you had the right? Now, Little Featherweight, have you ever been mixed up in any dark and dismal tragedy?

MRS. G. If you call me Mrs. Gadsby, p'raps I'll tell.

CAPT. G. (_Throwing Parade rasp into his voice._) Mrs. Gadsby, confess!

MRS. G. Good Heavens, Phil! I never knew that you could speak in that terrible voice.

CAPT. G. You don't know half my accomplishments yet. Wait till we are settled in the Plains, and I'll show you how I bark at my troop. You were going to say, darling?

MRS. G. I--I don't like to, after that voice. (_Tremulously._) Phil, never you _dare_ to speak to me in that tone, whatever I may do!