Part 58
SHE. Poor dears! They thought they were so safe in that nice pond!
LADY ELLA. Is he very badly torn?
SHE. Rather nasty. There ought to be a stitch or two put in his ear.
LADY ELLA. I thought so. Tommy, do----
THE SQUIRE. All right. Am I to let him go?
LADY ELLA. No.
MAUD. The fly's outside. Bertie, run and tell Jarvis to drive in for the Vet.
THE RECTOR. [Gentle and embarrassed] Run? Well, Maud--I----
SHE. The doctor would sew it up. My maid can go round.
[HANNIBAL. appears at the open casement with the broken braces dangling from his collar.]
LADY ELLA. Look! Catch him! Rector!
MAUD. Bertie! Catch him!
[THE RECTOR seizes HANNIBAL, but is seen to be in difficulties with his garments. HERSELF, who has gone out left, returns, with a leather strop in one hand and a pair of braces in the other.]
SHE. Take this strop--he can't break that. And would these be any good to you?
[SHE hands the braces to MAUD and goes out on to the verandah and hastily away. MAUD, transferring the braces to the RECTOR, goes out, draws HANNIBAL from the casement window, and secures him with the strap. THE RECTOR sits suddenly with the braces in his hands. There is a moment's peace.]
LADY ELLA. Splendid, isn't she? I do admire her.
THE SQUIRE. She's all there.
THE RECTOR. [Feelingly] Most kind.
[He looks ruefully at the braces and at LADY ELLA. A silence. MAUD reappears at the door and stands gazing at the braces.]
THE SQUIRE. [Suddenly] Eh?
MAUD. Yes.
THE SQUIRE. [Looking at his wife] Ah!
LADY ELLA. [Absorbed in EDWARD] Poor darling!
THE SQUIRE. [Bluntly] Ella, the Rector wants to get up!
THE RECTOR. [Gently] Perhaps--just for a moment----
LADY ELLA. Oh! [She turns to the wall.]
[THE RECTOR, screened by his WIFE, retires on to the verandah to adjust his garments.]
THE SQUIRE. [Meditating] So she's married!
LADY ELLA. [Absorbed in EDWARD] Why?
THE SQUIRE. Braces.
LADY ELLA. Oh! Yes. We ought to ask them to dinner, Tommy.
THE SQUIRE. Ah! Yes. Wonder who they are?
[THE RECTOR and MAUD reappear.]
THE RECTOR. Really very good of her to lend her husband's--I was-- er--quite----
MAUD. That'll do, Bertie.
[THEY see HER returning along the verandah, followed by a sandy, red-faced gentleman in leather leggings, with a needle and cotton in his hand.]
HERSELF. Caught the doctor just starting, So lucky!
LADY ELLA. Oh! Thank goodness!
DOCTOR. How do, Lady Ella? How do, Squire?--how do, Rector? [To MAUD] How de do? This the beastie? I see. Quite! Who'll hold him for me?
LADY ELLA. Oh! I!
HERSELF. D'you know, I think I'd better. It's so dreadful when it's your own, isn't it? Shall we go in here, doctor? Come along, pretty boy!
[She takes EDWARD, and they pass into the room, left.]
LADY ELLA. I dreaded it. She is splendid!
THE SQUIRE. Dogs take to her. That's a sure sign.
THE RECTOR. Little things--one can always tell.
THE SQUIRE. Something very attractive about her--what! Fine build of woman.
MAUD. I shall get hold of her for parish work.
THE RECTOR. Ah! Excellent--excellent! Do!
THE SQUIRE. Wonder if her husband shoots? She seems quite-er--quite----
LADY ELLA. [Watching the door] Quite! Altogether charming; one of the nicest faces I ever saw.
[THE DOCTOR comes out alone.]
Oh! Doctor--have you? is it----?
DOCTOR. Right as rain! She held him like an angel--he just licked her, and never made a sound.
LADY ELLA. Poor darling! Can I----
[She signs toward the door.]
DOCTOR. Better leave 'em a minute. She's moppin' 'im off. [He wrinkles his nose] Wonderful clever hands!
THE SQUIRE. I say--who is she?
DOCTOR. [Looking from face to face with a dubious and rather quizzical expression] Who? Well--there you have me! All I know is she's a first-rate nurse--been helpin' me with a case in Ditch Lane. Nice woman, too--thorough good sort! Quite an acquisition here. H'm! [Again that quizzical glance] Excuse me hurryin' off--very late. Good-bye, Rector. Good-bye, Lady Ella. Good-bye!
[He goes. A silence.]
THE SQUIRE. H'm! I suppose we ought to be a bit careful.
[JARVIS, flyman of the old school, has appeared on the verandah.]
JARVIS. [To THE RECTOR] Beg pardon, sir. Is the little dog all right?
MAUD. Yes.
JARVIS. [Touching his hat] Seein' you've missed your train, m'm, shall I wait, and take you 'ome again?
MAUD. No.
JARVIS. Cert'nly, m'm. [He touches his hat with a circular gesture, and is about to withdraw.]
LADY ELLA. Oh, Jarvis--what's the name of the people here?
JARVIS. Challenger's the name I've driven 'em in, my lady.
THE SQUIRE. Challenger? Sounds like a hound. What's he like?
JARVIS. [Scratching his head] Wears a soft 'at, sir.
THE SQUIRE. H'm! Ah!
JARVIS. Very nice gentleman, very nice lady. 'Elped me with my old mare when she 'ad the 'ighsteria last week--couldn't 'a' been kinder if they'd 'a' been angels from 'eaven. Wonderful fond o' dumb animals, the two of 'em. I don't pay no attention to gossip, meself.
MAUD. Gossip? What gossip?
JARVIS. [Backing] Did I make use of the word, m'm? You'll excuse me, I'm sure. There's always talk where there's newcomers. I takes people as I finds 'em.
THE RECTOR. Yes, yes, Jarvis--quite--quite right!
JARVIS. Yes, sir. I've--I've got a 'abit that way at my time o' life.
MAUD. [Sharply] How long have they been here, Jarvis?
JARVIS. Well---er--a matter of three weeks, m'm.
[A slight involuntary stir.]
[Apologetic] Of course, in my profession I can't afford to take notice of whether there's the trifle of a ring between 'em, as the sayin' is. 'Tisn't 'ardly my business like.
[A silence.]
LADY ELLA. [Suddenly] Er--thank you, Jarvis; you needn't wait.
JARVIS. No, m'lady. Your service, sir--service, m'm.
[He goes. A silence.]
THE SQUIRE. [Drawing a little closer] Three weeks? I say--er-- wasn't there a book?
THE RECTOR. [Abstracted] Three weeks----I certainly haven't seen them in church.
MAUD. A trifle of a ring!
LADY ELLA. [Impulsively] Oh, bother! I'm sure she's all right. And if she isn't, I don't care. She's been much too splendid.
THE SQUIRE. Must think of the village. Didn't quite like the doctor's way of puttin' us off.
LADY ELLA. The poor darling owes his life to her.
THE SQUIRE. H'm! Dash it! Yes! Can't forget the way she ran into that stinkin' pond.
MAUD. Had she a wedding-ring on?
[They look at each other, but no one knows.]
LADY ELLA. Well, I'm not going to be ungrateful.
THE SQUIRE. It'd be dashed awkward--mustn't take a false step, Ella.
THE RECTOR. And I've got his braces! [He puts his hand to his waist.]
MAUD. [Warningly] Bertie!
THE SQUIRE. That's all right, Rector--we're goin' to be perfectly polite, and--and--thank her, and all that.
LADY ELLA. We can see she's a good sort. What does it matter?
MAUD. My dear Ella! "What does it matter!" We've got to know.
THE RECTOR. We do want light.
THE SQUIRE. I'll ring the bell. [He rings.]
[They look at each other aghast.]
LADY ELLA. What did you ring for, Tommy?
THE SQUIRE. [Flabbergasted] God knows!
MAUD. Somebody'll come.
THE SQUIRE. Rector--you--you've got to----
MAUD. Yes, Bertie.
THE RECTOR. Dear me! But--er--what--er----How?
THE SQUIRE. [Deeply-to himself] The whole thing's damn delicate.
[The door right is opened and a MAID appears. She is a determined-looking female. They face her in silence.]
THE RECTOR. Er--er----your master is not in?
THE MAID. No. 'E's gone up to London.
THE RECTOR. Er----Mr Challenger, I think?
THE MAID. Yes.
THE RECTOR. Yes! Er----quite so
THE MAID. [Eyeing them] D'you want--Mrs Challenger?
THE RECTOR. Ah! Not precisely----
THE SQUIRE. [To him in a low, determined voice] Go on.
THE RECTOR. [Desperately] I asked because there was a--a--Mr. Challenger I used to know in the 'nineties, and I thought--you wouldn't happen to know how long they've been married? My friend marr----
THE MAID. Three weeks.
THE RECTOR. Quite so--quite so! I shall hope it will turn out to be----Er--thank you--Ha!
LADY ELLA. Our dog has been fighting with the Rector's, and Mrs Challenger rescued him; she's bathing his ear. We're waiting to thank her. You needn't----
THE MAID. [Eyeing them] No.
[She turns and goes out.]
THE SQUIRE. Phew! What a gorgon! I say, Rector, did you really know a Challenger in the 'nineties?
THE RECTOR. [Wiping his brow] No.
THE SQUIRE. Ha! Jolly good!
LADY ELLA. Well, you see!--it's all right.
THE RECTOR. Yes, indeed. A great relief!
LADY ELLA. [Moving to the door] I must go in now.
THE SQUIRE. Hold on! You goin' to ask 'em to--to--anything?
LADY ELLA. Yes.
MAUD. I shouldn't.
LADY ELLA. Why not? We all like the look of her.
THE RECTOR. I think we should punish ourselves for entertaining that uncharitable thought.
LADY ELLA. Yes. It's horrible not having the courage to take people as they are.
THE SQUIRE. As they are? H'm! How can you till you know?
LADY ELLA. Trust our instincts, of course.
THE SQUIRE. And supposing she'd turned out not married--eh!
LADY ELLA! She'd still be herself, wouldn't she?
MAUD. Ella!
THE SQUIRE. H'm! Don't know about that.
LADY ELLA. Of course she would, Tommy.
THE RECTOR. [His hand stealing to his waist] Well! It's a great weight off my----!
LADY ELLA. There's the poor darling snuffling. I must go in.
[She knocks on the door. It is opened, and EDWARD comes out briskly, with a neat little white pointed ear-cap on one ear.]
LADY ELLA. Precious!
[SHE HERSELF Comes out, now properly dressed in flax-blue linen.]
LADY ELLA. How perfectly sweet of you to make him that!
SHE. He's such a dear. And the other poor dog?
MAUD. Quite safe, thanks to your strop.
[HANNIBAL appears at the window, with the broken strop dangling. Following her gaze, they turn and see him.]
MAUD. Oh! There, he's broken it. Bertie!
SHE. Let me! [She seizes HANNIBAL.]
THE SQUIRE. We're really most tremendously obliged to you. Afraid we've been an awful nuisance.
SHE. Not a bit. I love dogs.
THE SQUIRE. Hope to make the acquaintance of Mr----of your husband.
LADY ELLA. [To EDWARD, who is straining]
[Gently, darling! Tommy, take him.]
[THE SQUIRE does so.]
MAUD. [Approaching HANNIBAL.] Is he behaving?
[She stops short, and her face suddenly shoots forward at HER hands that are holding HANNIBAL'S neck.]
SHE. Oh! yes--he's a love.
MAUD. [Regaining her upright position, and pursing her lips; in a peculiar voice] Bertie, take Hannibal.
THE RECTOR takes him.
LADY ELLA. [Producing a card] I can't be too grateful for all you've done for my poor darling. This is where we live. Do come-- and see----
[MAUD, whose eyes have never left those hands, tweaks LADY ELLA's dress.]
LADY ELLA. That is--I'm--I----
[HERSELF looks at LADY ELLA in surprise.]
THE SQUIRE. I don't know if your husband shoots, but if----
[MAUD, catching his eye, taps the third finger of her left hand.]
--er--he--does--er--er----
[HERSELF looks at THE SQUIRE surprised.]
MAUD. [Turning to her husband, repeats the gesture with the low and simple word] Look!
THE RECTOR. [With round eyes, severely] Hannibal! [He lifts him bodily and carries him away.]
MAUD. Don't squeeze him, Bertie!
[She follows through the French window.]
THE SQUIRE. [Abruptly--of the unoffending EDWARD] That dog'll be forgettin' himself in a minute.
[He picks up EDWARD and takes him out.]
[LADY ELLA is left staring.]
LADY ELLA. [At last] You mustn't think, I----You mustn't think, we ----Oh! I must just see they--don't let Edward get at Hannibal.
[She skims away.]
[HERSELF is left staring after LADY ELLA, in surprise.]
SHE. What is the matter with them?
[The door is opened.]
THE MAID. [Entering and holding out a wedding-ring--severely] You left this, m'm, in the bathroom.
SHE. [Looking, startled, at her finger] Oh! [Taking it] I hadn't missed it. Thank you, Martha.
[THE MAID goes.]
[A hand, slipping in at the casement window, softly lays a pair of braces on the windowsill. SHE looks at the braces, then at the ring. HER lip curls.]
Sue. [Murmuring deeply] Ah!
CURTAIN
DEFEAT
A TINY DRAMA
CHARACTERS
THE OFFICER. THE GIRL.
DEFEAT
During the Great War. Evening.
An empty room. The curtains drawn and gas turned low. The furniture and walls give a colour-impression as of greens and beetroot. There is a prevalence of plush. A fireplace on the Left, a sofa, a small table; the curtained window is at the back. On the table, in a common pot, stands a little plant of maidenhair fern, fresh and green.
Enter from the door on the Right, a GIRL and a YOUNG OFFICER in khaki. The GIRL wears a discreet dark dress, hat, and veil, and stained yellow gloves. The YOUNG OFFICER is tall, with a fresh open face, and kindly eager blue eyes; he is a little lame. The GIRL, who is evidently at home, moves towards the gas jet to turn it up, then changes her mind, and going to the curtains, draws them apart and throws up the window. Bright moonlight comes flooding in. Outside are seen the trees of a little Square. She stands gazing out, suddenly turns inward with a shiver.
YOUNG OFF. I say; what's the matter? You were crying when I spoke to you.
GIRL. [With a movement of recovery] Oh! nothing. The beautiful evening-that's all.
YOUNG OFF. [Looking at her] Cheer up!
GIRL. [Taking of hat and veil; her hair is yellowish and crinkly] Cheer up! You are not lonelee, like me.
YOUNG OFF. [Limping to the window--doubtfully] I say, how did you how did you get into this? Isn't it an awfully hopeless sort of life?
GIRL. Yees, it ees. You haf been wounded?
YOUNG OFF. Just out of hospital to-day.
GIRL. The horrible war--all the misery is because of the war. When will it end?
YOUNG OFF. [Leaning against the window-sill, looking at her attentively] I say, what nationality are you?
GIRL. [With a quick look and away] Rooshian.
YOUNG OFF. Really! I never met a Russian girl. [The GIRL gives him another quick look] I say, is it as bad as they make out?
GIRL. [Slipping her hand through his arm] Not when I haf anyone as ni-ice as you; I never haf had, though. [She smiles, and her smile, like her speech, is slow and confining] You stopped because I was sad, others stop because I am gay. I am not fond of men at all. When you know--you are not fond of them.
YOUNG OFF. Well, you hardly know them at their best, do you? You should see them in the trenches. By George! They're simply splendid--officers and men, every blessed soul. There's never been anything like it--just one long bit of jolly fine self-sacrifice; it's perfectly amazing.
GIRL. [Turning her blue-grey eyes on him] I expect you are not the last at that. You see in them what you haf in yourself, I think.
YOUNG OFF. Oh, not a bit; you're quite out! I assure you when we made the attack where I got wounded there wasn't a single man in my regiment who wasn't an absolute hero. The way they went in--never thinking of themselves--it was simply ripping.
GIRL. [In a queer voice] It is the same too, perhaps, with--the enemy.
YOUNG OFF. Oh, yes! I know that.
GIRL. Ah! You are not a mean man. How I hate mean men!
YOUNG OFF. Oh! they're not mean really--they simply don't understand.
GIRL. Oh! You are a babee--a good babee aren't you?
[The YOUNG OFFICER doesn't like this, and frowns. The GIRL looks a little scared.]
GIRL. [Clingingly] But I li-ke you for it. It is so good to find a ni-ice man.
YOUNG OFF. [Abruptly] About being lonely? Haven't you any Russian friends?
GIRL. [Blankly] Rooshian? No. [Quickly] The town is so beeg. Were you at the concert before you spoke to me?
YOUNG OFF. Yes.
GIRL. I too. I lofe music.
YOUNG OFF. I suppose all Russians do.
GIRL. [With another quick look tat him] I go there always when I haf the money.
YOUNG OFF. What! Are you as badly on the rocks as that?
GIRL. Well, I haf just one shilling now!
[She laughs bitterly. The laugh upsets him; he sits on the window-sill, and leans forward towards her.]
YOUNG OFF. I say, what's your name?
GIRL. May. Well, I call myself that. It is no good asking yours.
YOUNG OFF. [With a laugh] You're a distrustful little soul; aren't you?
GIRL. I haf reason to be, don't you think?
YOUNG OFF. Yes. I suppose you're bound to think us all brutes.
GIRL. [Sitting on a chair close to the window where the moonlight falls on one powdered cheek] Well, I haf a lot of reasons to be afraid all my time. I am dreadfully nervous now; I am not trusding anybody. I suppose you haf been killing lots of Germans?
YOUNG OFF. We never know, unless it happens to be hand to hand; I haven't come in for that yet.
GIRL. But you would be very glad if you had killed some.
YOUNG OFF. Oh, glad? I don't think so. We're all in the same boat, so far as that's concerned. We're not glad to kill each other--not most of us. We do our job--that's all.
GIRL. Oh! It is frightful. I expect I haf my brothers killed.
YOUNG OFF. Don't you get any news ever?
GIRL. News? No indeed, no news of anybody in my country. I might not haf a country; all that I ever knew is gone; fader, moder, sisters, broders, all; never any more I shall see them, I suppose, now. The war it breaks and breaks, it breaks hearts. [She gives a little snarl] Do you know what I was thinking when you came up to me? I was thinking of my native town, and the river in the moonlight. If I could see it again I would be glad. Were you ever homeseeck?
YOUNG OFF. Yes, I have been--in the trenches. But one's ashamed with all the others.
GIRL. Ah! Yees! Yees! You are all comrades there. What is it like for me here, do you think, where everybody hates and despises me, and would catch me and put me in prison, perhaps. [Her breast heaves.]
YOUNG OFF. [Leaning forward and patting her knee] Sorry--sorry.
GIRL. [In a smothered voice] You are the first who has been kind to me for so long! I will tell you the truth--I am not Rooshian at all --I am German.
YOUNG OFF. [Staring] My dear girl, who cares. We aren't fighting against women.
GIRL. [Peering at him] Another man said that to me. But he was thinkin' of his fun. You are a veree ni-ice boy; I am so glad I met you. You see the good in people, don't you? That is the first thing in the world--because--there is really not much good in people, you know.
YOUNG OFF. [Smiling] You are a dreadful little cynic! But of course you are!
GIRL. Cyneec? How long do you think I would live if I was not a cyneec? I should drown myself to-morrow. Perhaps there are good people, but, you see, I don't know them.
YOUNG OFF. I know lots.
GIRL. [Leaning towards him] Well now--see, ni-ice boy--you haf never been in a hole, haf you?
YOUNG OFF. I suppose not a real hole.
GIRL. No, I should think not, with your face. Well, suppose I am still a good girl, as I was once, you know; and you took me to your mother and your sisters and you said: "Here is a little German girl that has no work, and no money, and no friends." They will say: "Oh! how sad! A German girl!" And they will go and wash their hands.
[The OFFICER, is silent, staring at her.]
GIRL. You see.
YOUNG OFF. [Muttering] I'm sure there are people.
GIRL. No. They would not take a German, even if she was good. Besides, I don't want to be good any more--I am not a humbug; I have learned to be bad. Aren't you going to kees me, ni-ice boy?
She puts her face close to his. Her eyes trouble him; he draws back.
YOUNG OFF. Don't. I'd rather not, if you don't mind. [She looks at him fixedly, with a curious inquiring stare] It's stupid. I don't know--but you see, out there, and in hospital, life's different. It's--it's--it isn't mean, you know. Don't come too close.
GIRL. Oh! You are fun----[She stops] Eesn't it light. No Zeps to-night. When they burn--what a 'orrble death! And all the people cheer. It is natural. Do you hate us veree much?
YOUNG OFF. [Turning sharply] Hate? I don't know.
GIRL. I don't hate even the English--I despise them. I despise my people too; even more, because they began this war. Oh! I know that. I despise all the peoples. Why haf they made the world so miserable --why haf they killed all our lives--hundreds and thousands and millions of lives--all for noting? They haf made a bad world-- everybody hating, and looking for the worst everywhere. They haf made me bad, I know. I believe no more in anything. What is there to believe in? Is there a God? No! Once I was teaching little English children their prayers--isn't that funnee? I was reading to them about Christ and love. I believed all those things. Now I believe noting at all--no one who is not a fool or a liar can believe. I would like to work in a 'ospital; I would like to go and 'elp poor boys like you. Because I am a German they would throw me out a 'undred times, even if I was good. It is the same in Germany, in France, in Russia, everywhere. But do you think I will believe in Love and Christ and God and all that--Not I! I think we are animals --that's all! Oh, yes! you fancy it is because my life has spoiled me. It is not that at all--that is not the worst thing in life. The men I take are not ni-ice, like you, but it's their nature; and--they help me to live, which is something for me, anyway. No, it is the men who think themselves great and good and make the war with their talk and their hate, killing us all--killing all the boys like you, and keeping poor People in prison, and telling us to go on hating; and all these dreadful cold-blood creatures who write in the papers --the same in my country--just the same; it is because of all of them that I think we are only animals.
[The YOUNG OFFICER gets up, acutely miserable.]
[She follows him with her eyes.]
GIRL. Don't mind me talkin', ni-ice boy. I don't know anyone to talk to. If you don't like it, I can be quiet as a mouse.
YOUNG OFF. Oh, go on! Talk away; I'm not obliged to believe you, and I don't.
[She, too, is on her feet now, leaning against the wall; her dark dress and white face just touched by the slanting moonlight. Her voice comes again, slow and soft and bitter.]