Part 10
[_Turning her face to the window, the STRANGER raises her hood for a few seconds. ALL crowd forward to gaze on her, then turn away, the men with suppressed horror and the women with ill-suppressed mirth. Exclamations rise from all sides: “Oh, what an unlovely lady!... By my soul, a loathly lady!”_]
SIR MELIOGRANCE.
[_His voice quaking with fear._] Is there no way but this? Leaver would I shed the best blood of my body than ... than.... [_Breaks off, stammering, not wishing to be rude._]
ARTHUR.
There is none other way!
SIR BORS.
I am hors de combat! Already is my troth plighted to ... to ... to several ladies!
SIR BLEOBERIS.
[_Hastily._] And mine! To the same ladies!
THE OTHER KNIGHTS.
Cowards! Cowards!
SIR GRIFLET.
[_Runs forward and casts himself at ARTHUR’S feet._] Sir, I never yet applied me to be married, but an it please ye, I will win worship in this wise!
[_All the LADIES murmur admiringly, “Gallant child!”_]
ARTHUR.
Rise, Sir Griflet! This adventure is for your elders ... your betters could not be!... Sir Kay....
SIR KAY.
[_Hurriedly._] This is matter for Sir Gawayne! [_This is greeted with a slight general exclamation; the KNIGHT continues._] For the slaying of a lady by misadventure and smiting off her head is he not sworn upon the Four Evangelists never to refuse courtesy to lady ne gentlewoman so long as he shall live?
[_All the KNIGHTS heartily assent to this._]
SIR GAWAYNE.
Now by faith of my body....
ALL THE KNIGHTS.
[_Hurriedly._] Aye! Sir Gawayne is the fellow for this adventure!
GUINEVERE.
[_Imploring, hands out to him._] Dear nephew ... for the love of the high order of knighthood, assent to this, I beseech ye!
SIR GAWAYNE.
[_After a pause._] I assent me!
[_A sigh of relief goes up from all sides._]
ARTHUR.
Truly, nephew, ye have a mighty heart! [_He presents the STRANGER to the KNIGHT._] Take her, and God be your speed!
GUINEVERE.
[_To the assembled people._] Avoid! Avoid! Together will they be more at their hearts’ ease! [_All go. The QUEEN continues, addressing the STRANGER._] Lady, we will make ready in the goodliest wise that may be devised for the betrothal feast! [_She and the KING also go._]
[_Left together GAWAYNE and DÉLIVERANCE gaze on one another, then, involuntarily, the young man turns away and covers his face with his hands. He then resumes his interrupted task of polishing his shield. The LADY goes to him with a brisker step than we have yet seen her employ, and touches him on the shoulder. With a start and an ejaculation he looks up at her hopefully._]
SIR GAWAYNE.
Gramercy! The face in the shield!... Ah! [_He sighs heavily._] ’Twas but a trick of fantasy! Woven of moonlight and dawn! [_He goes on polishing._]
DÉLIVERANCE.
Pluck up heart. All may yet be well!
SIR GAWAYNE.
All _is_ well, madam. [_He rises._] An ye have no commands for me I will go make me ready in seemly sort for our betrothal!
DÉLIVERANCE.
Rather abide, and suffer me to do thankings unto thee, for much have ye done for me! An ye wist how ye have holpen a dolorous lady!
SIR GAWAYNE.
I but stand upon my knighthood, madam! [_He is about to go, when there enters, confronting him, a young and gallant KNIGHT, in full armour. GAWAYNE stops short, staring at him._] Now, by my head ... the face I saw in my shield! [_He passes a hand over his puzzled brow._] Of whence be ye, and how called?
THE KNIGHT [DÉLIVERÉ].
I am extract of noble blood. I am hight Déliveré! I am brother to this lady!
SIR GAWAYNE.
Brother to...! [_He looks from one to the other, incredulous._]
DÉLIVERÉ.
[_Corroborating his own assertion._] To Déliverance La Belle Pilgrim!
SIR GAWAYNE.
Now by my head you speak a great wonder!
DÉLIVERÉ.
By the crafts of sorcery I was turned into the outrageous giant, keeping the evil customs whereby Arthur and his Court were put in jeopard! My sister alone knew the true answer to my rede, but none could learn it or ever a worshipful knight should promise to take and wed her unto his wife! In this ye stand a proved knight of matchless chivalry! But an ye would save yourself unshamed from this marriage, come and joust with me!
SIR GAWAYNE.
[_With a cry of joy._] Now Heaven be praised, right glad and blithe am I, for liefer an hundred times would I die with fighting worship than live with wedded woe! Come, Sir Knight, to the assay, and spare me not, for I warn thee I will not spare thee! Come and prove who will be first to say Ho! [_DÉLIVERANCE, who has hobbled back to the hearth, cowers in her chair, moaning. “Now am I the wofullest lady of the world!”_] Now wherefore this dolorous moaning?
DÉLIVERANCE.
I require thee, good knight, as thou art a gentleman, not to gainsay your avows to me!
SIR GAWAYNE.
[_Pauses irresolute._] Now was ever knight in such plight, between fire and water as it might be!
DÉLIVERÉ.
Coward! Coward!
SIR GAWAYNE.
[_Starting to go to him._] Now by the faith of my body never will I yield me nor say the loth word!
DÉLIVERANCE.
Traitor! Traitor!
SIR GAWAYNE.
[_Stopping short._] Now by the Four Evangelists.... [_He takes a sudden decision, and goes toward his bride._] Lady, love is free in himself, and never will be bound, but I shall be your servant and knight in right and wrong, and I shall never fail you to do as much as a knight may do, and I promise you faithfully that I shall be all the days of my life your knight!
DÉLIVERÉ.
Coward!
[Illustration: “Look, Sir Knight! Behold the visage of your bride!”]
SIR GAWAYNE.
Not so, Sir Déliveré, for, God wot, I have chosen the more perilous part!
DÉLIVERANCE.
Now this gladdeth well my heart, for so have ye delivered me from the bondage of enchantment! Look, Sir Knight! Behold the visage of your bride! [_Standing erect, and throwing back her hood she discloses the countenance of a young woman of great beauty._]
SIR GAWAYNE.
[_With a cry of great joy._] Lady! The damosel I saw in my shield ... all passing young and peerless fair!... Sir Knights and Ladies! [_He goes toward the banqueting-hall, calling_:] Come, and witness a great marvel! [_ALL come in, in great excitement, and from the other direction come the KING and QUEEN, with their attendants, bringing a rich robe and sparkling jewels for the bride. Excitedly SIR GAWAYNE invites their attention to DÉLIVERANCE._] Behold my bride ... the damosel I saw anon, all passing young and peerless fair! [_But, even as he had turned from her, DÉLIVERANCE drew her hood over her head, wrapped her mantle, huddling, about her bent shoulders, and relapsed into the form of an aged crone. ALL look amazed._]
SIR KAY.
[_Takes her by the arm and turns her toward the light, then bursts into great laughter._] By my head, he’s clean out of his wits!... Passing fair? The loathly lady! [_ALL echo this, and troop off, mocking SIR GAWAYNE._]
GUINEVERE.
[_Who with the KING remains._] The unlovely lady, the loathly lady passing fair? Poor, poor gentleman! He is under the spell of a dolorous enchantment!
ARTHUR.
Pray Heaven he may never get well of it!
SIR GAWAYNE.
[_Sternly, to his bride._] What means this: now young and fair, now old and wizened? This is no stability!
DÉLIVERANCE.
Alas, dear love! The spell is still on me, whereby I may be young and fair to you alone, and old and bent in company; or young and fair in company, and old and bent to you alone! It is for you to choose!
SIR GAWAYNE.
Oh, what a burden is thrust upon me! Alone with you to enjoy your delectable beauty, and in company to endure the tauntings and mockage of men ... or in company to have the envy of all for my lovely bride, and alone with you to discover a loathly crone of an hundred years of age! [_He groans, throwing himself into a chair and covering his face._]
DÉLIVERÉ.
[_Sharply._] Choose ye now, or look well to yourself!
SIR GAWAYNE.
Leave that, Sir Déliveré!... [_He goes to DÉLIVERANCE._] I give it to thee, for my wedding-gift, the thing that all women do most desire ... your own will in this affair, to do as you may list!
DÉLIVERANCE.
[_Casting aside her mantle and throwing up her arms with a great cry of joy._] Oh, laudings and praisings to Heaven, for now is my cup of happiness brim-filled and running over!... Sir Gawayne, ye have passed the third and last test of chivalry, and so have delivered me forever from the crafts of sorcery!
SIR GAWAYNE.
[_Overjoyed, almost in a whisper._] What! Is it true? Ye are all fair for all times, in company and for me alone?
DÉLIVERÉ.
It is true! She is a full fair maid, good and gentle, and right well taught, so may each love other entirely!
[_ARTHUR and GUINEVERE, who were standing at a distance, have joined the group, attracted by DÉLIVERANCE’S cry, and now offer their felicitations. GUINEVERE kisses the bride, and places a jewel in her lovely hair and a chain about her fair neck._]
ARTHUR.
[_To the two SERVANTS, who stand at the entrance to the banqueting-hall._] Let blow! Let blow! [_At a bugle blast from these ALL enter hurriedly. The KING addresses them._] Now is greater worship than ever before won to our goodly fellowship, sithence our dear nephew Sir Gawayne hath passed the third and final test of chivalry!
[_ALL exclaim rejoicing._]
SIR KAY.
But ... where is the loathly lady?
ALL.
Aye, where is the unlovely lady ... the loathly lady?
ARTHUR.
Yon stands she, freed forever from the evil spell of sorcery! And by the faith of my body I do think she is the fairest lady of the world but if it were Queen Guinevere!
A CHRISTMAS PARTY
_Christmas_
CHARACTERS
_THREE LOBS, Lob here, Lob there, Lob everywhere._ _Three PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN: ETHEL who is called BABS, JANET called BEESWAX, and RICHARD called DICK._ _Some CHILDREN of HISTORY and FABLE, including CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS, PETER SCHLEMIHL, SLEEPING BEAUTY and NAPOLEON._ SANTA CLAUS. THE FATHER AND MOTHER.
A CHRISTMAS PARTY
Before the curtains part the voice of the Mother is heard singing her babes to sleep with A CHRISTMAS EVENSONG.
At Bethlehem beneath the hill Where herded sheep lay slumber-still, All wrapped in snowy fleece, Within a humble khan, where lay A band of farers on their way, Was born the Prince of Peace, Prince of Peace!
Then from the wakened skies there came A wonder-song, a starry flame, By star and song to tell That prince’s hall or wayside khan Shall Heaven be, when child of man Is child of God as well! God as well!
The angels sing to-day, as then, God’s peace on earth, goodwill to men His pledge divine who keep, And by the tower on the hill Lo! Christ the Shepherd watches still, So, lambkins, go to sleep! Go to sleep!
The curtains have parted slowly, noiselessly, disclosing a room in such deep shadow that only by peering can one discern three small white beds far up against the wall of a real everyday nursery, a companionable fire purring on the hearth, and a real everyday Mother, the kind every happy child knows, sitting singing. When her song is ended she rises, bends over the pillows, nods as if satisfied that, though three soft, warm little bodies lie snugly tucked in between sheets and blankets, the Children themselves have gone off on their nightly journey, to Sleep, smoothes a coverlet in the quite unnecessary way that Mothers have, draws a screen about the beds to keep out the draught that grown-ups always think is trying to get at children, but that in reality could not be coaxed to stay in a house with all outdoors to play in, then, going to the hearth, she seizes the poker, and in a fashion rather violent for so gentle a being, she beats the reddest of the logs until it sneezes sparks, as if to caution it against breaking out in greedy flames that make everything within reach catch fire like measles. Finally, since there is not the least, wee excuse for further lingering, she kisses her hand to the forms of the Children who by this time are very far away, and steals noiselessly from the room.
The fire goes out with a disgruntled pop, as if remarking that it has no desire to remain where it is not trusted to behave itself, and the room becomes so dark you think it is all over, and that it is not much of a play after all, when, hark! You hear the jingle of sleigh-bells, and the laughter of a merry party passing by. Now the warm glow returns slowly to the hearth and the logs start talking. “Crack, crack! Splutter, splutter,” cries one, turning its torch in the direction of the book-shelves. “What’s all this learned nonsense? Works on botany, and what’s that long word? Yes, ornithology! Why don’t they say birds and beasts and flowers and forests and things? And why go to books to learn when one has eyes and ears ... five senses, all told, and a sixth, if people did but know it!”
“Stupid as a log,” cries another. “That’s what I overheard a teacher call a boy whose poor little body was kept in a school-room while its soul had its arms about my neck, learning True History, and the Real Meaning of Things, in the forest! For my part, at the risk of seeming vain I consider a log the brightest thing I know!”
“Right, O,” concurred a third. “Really human beings are the dullest creatures! probably because someone invented words for them to talk with! Now if you’re seeking a professor of language let me recommend the head of the squirrel family that used to be my top-front lodgers. He could chatter more fluently about a hazel-nut without articulating a single word than any human that has addled his brains getting an University diploma!”
“True,” replied the first speaker. “And the longer humans live in the world the duller they become from read—read—reading, and talk—talk—talking words, words, words, words, words! Now take babies. Babies are the wise ones. Babies who cheep like birds when pleased and squeal the way little pigs do when they are hungry can always be depended on to make their meaning understood! Nobody has to consult a dictionary or employ an interpreter to hold a conversation with a baby in any language! Old people, too, when they lose their teeth and forget words, they grow wise again! What a pleasure it is to burn brightly for old people as they sit beside the hearth, warming their hearts, and telling them over and over again the forgotten tales they heard from us before their wits were cluttered up with words like rank growths of underbrush in the forest!”
All paused a moment to reflect on this fine sentiment, when a log at the back of the pile that had hitherto held itself aloof, rolled up in a ragged cloak of charred bark, now turned over with a snort, falling on the others heavily. “The forest, indeed! Landlubbers all! I have been to sea! I have been shipwrecked! I have stood on my head and turned somersaults in mid-ocean!” And he stuck out his tongue, sending forth darts of the most wonderful green and blue. Thoroughly roused now, the logs all talk at the same time, bragging of their adventures and of the family trees from which they have sprung, and there’s no knowing how it would end if it were not that some people passing sing a snatch of an old Christmas Carol, a great favourite with the hearth-logs, so that they cease wrangling to listen to it.
Carol, carol, Christian! Carol, carol joyfully! Carol for the coming of Christ’s nativity!
Go ye to the forest Where the myrtles grow, Where the pine and laurel bend beneath the snow!
Gather them for Jesus, Wreathe them for his shrine, Make his temple glorious with the box and vine!
Now there is dead silence in the nursery which soon is filled with a strange light made up of hearth-glow, moon-beam and the blueness that only comes from fairyland. For the first time you notice that the Children have hung their stockings from the mantelpiece. Then you see, asleep on the hearthrug, three small brown beings, each cuddling a broom, by which token you know them to be the Good Little People who make their home with happy Children, called Lobs for short, though if ever you address one by his full title you’ll say Lob-Lie-By-The-Fire.
FIRST LOB.
[_Waking, stirs._] Pray is it time?
SECOND LOB.
[_Waking, turns._] Eh? Time? ’Tis always time. Is ever there a time when ’tis not time?
FIRST LOB.
I mean, is it the hour for chanticleer To crow the sun up, Lob to vanish?
SECOND LOB. Nay! So warm the hearth, so bright the embers glow, The night must still be young! Sleep out your sleep, And let me do the same! [_Drowsily._]
FIRST LOB.
Brother, no work Is there for us to-night as usual In redding up the place?
SECOND LOB.
’Tis Christmas Eve! A holiday! Our task comes later. Scraps And string and littered paper, leaves that dry And crackling fall from holly boughs, burnt-out The candles on the Tree, soon will our hands With these be full!
[_He turns over and hums drowsily._]
Lob here, Lob there, Lob everywhere! Lob, sweep the hearth and mend the toys, Lob, do the tasks of girls and boys, Who would not be a Lob like me, A merry Lob-lie-by-the-fire like me!
[_Again there is silence. The mysterious light which we now see proceeds from the night-light in the corner grows brighter. One of the children, DICK, probably, says something in his sleep._]
THIRD LOB.
[_Starting up._] What’s that?
SECOND LOB.
What’s what?
THIRD LOB.
Surely Someone said something!
SECOND LOB.
Someone I could name Said something! If someone would learn to say A trifle less, do more, ’twere better far For someone!
DICK.
Bells! His flying reindeer cleave The crystal air, shaking the golden stars Out of their sockets, scattering their dust All-sparkling on the snow! Oh, listen!
THIRD LOB.
Hark! The children wake! And we still here!
SECOND LOB.
Why not? A nosey dog, the household cat with brains In every whisker-tip, on friendly terms With these ’twere best to be, I grant you. But A dull-sensed human child between whose feet We sweep unheeded shall we fear?
THIRD LOB.
Only On Christmas Eve when fairy-tales come true!
SECOND LOB.
O wise the word! Come, brother; wake!
[_He pokes the FIRST LOB with his broom._]
FIRST LOB.
Let be! I’m weary!
[_THE CHILDREN now are heard, yawning and stretching. He starts up._]
Eh? What’s this? That rowdy horde Of heavy-footed Children, coming back Like runaways deserting school, before Dawn and the birds, from Sleep! O trespassers Upon our ancient province of the night!
[_THE CHILDREN come pattering toward the hearth dragging on their dressing-gowns over their night-gowns._]
DICK.
I’m sure I heard him!
BABS.
Nonsense, Dick. For, see! Unfilled our stockings from the mantel hang, Dangling as when we left them for him!
DICK.
Oh! You do not think he can have passed us by? O Santa Claus, come back!
BEESWAX.
[_Catching sight of the THREE LOBS, who stand, brooms shouldered, guarding the hearth._]
Oh, look! Dick, Babs! Just look! Three wee brown men with brooms!
[_She approaches THE LOBS._]
I know you! Yes, I’ve read about you in a picture-book! You’re Lobs!
FIRST LOB.
[_Saluting._] Lob here!
SECOND LOB.
[_Saluting._] Lob there!
THIRD LOB.
[_Saluting._] Lob everywhere!
DICK AND BABS.
[_Excited._] What! Real Lobs? Alive?
THE LOBS.
[_Laugh derisively._] O silly ones! Whoever heard of Lobs Unreal, not alive? [_They dance about, singing._] Lob here, Lob there, Lob everywhere, Lob sweep the hearth, Lob mend the toys, Lob do the tasks of girls and boys! Who would not be a Lob like me! A merry Lob-lie-by-the-fire like me!
BABS.
I’m charmed to meet you. Make yourselves at home!
THE LOBS.
We are at home. We live here! But, pray you Feel quite at home!
THE CHILDREN.
In our own home of course At home we feel! We live here!
THE LOBS.
Just by day! By night when you go off to sleep the place Is ours!
FIRST LOB.
But, Christmas Eve, a holiday, As guests we welcome you. Our hearth-fire share!
SECOND AND THIRD LOBS.
Pray do so! [_With a gesture inviting THE CHILDREN to sit._]
THE CHILDREN.
Thank you, Lobs! How kind they are. [_All sit._]
BABS.
I’m Ethel, Babs for short, since I myself Was short to start with, when a baby!
FIRST LOB.
Oh, I know you, Babs. (Still short sometimes in marks At school, I fear! However you mean well!)
BEESWAX.
Named Janet, Beeswax am I called, because So tidy am I!
SECOND LOB.
[_With a burst of laughter._] Tidy? Ha, ha, ha! Behold who overnight fulfills the tasks Undone that Beeswax leaves! However well You mean, and so I grumble not!
DICK.
[_To the THIRD LOB._] And you My lessons for me learn, no doubt you’ll say?
THIRD LOB.
No, Richard, no! My best I do, but you Are lazy! Well you mean, however, so We’ll let it pass!
DICK.
[_Listens._] What’s Billy barking for? [_He explains to THE LOBS._] Billy’s our dog!
THE LOBS.
[_Correcting him._] By day! But after dark Our dog is Billy!
DICK.
Well, your dog or ours, Billy is barking! Yet in friendly wise, As greeting someone! Listen! [_He starts up._] There are steps Upon the stairs, above, and roundabout!
BEESWAX.
I also hear them! Little footfalls light As snowflakes!
BABS.
Pat-pat-pattering this way They come!
[_ALL have risen from the hearthrug where they have been sitting, to listen._]
THE LOBS.
[_Explaining._] ’Tis but the children of the house At play!
THE CHILDREN.
[_Puzzled._] But we the children of the house Are surely!
THE LOBS.
[_Explaining._] Daytime calls you so! But night The gate sets wide for Children of the Past, All children that have ever been, to roam At pleasure, enter where they will!
BEESWAX.
[_Clasping her hands in ecstasy._] In here Their little feet have sometimes wandered? Oh, I wish ... Oh, how I wish that I might see, Might speak with, play with them!
FIRST LOB.
Call them by name! If lovingly, I’ll answer for ’t, they’ll come!
BABS.
I’ll choose!
DICK.
No. I will!
BEESWAX.
I spoke first! Oh, hush! [_She listens._] Fleeing, their footsteps turn the other way! Oh, Children, stay!
SECOND LOB.
Never where wrangling jars They enter. Only where love reigns!
BABS.
Then I Give up to Beeswax.
BEESWAX.
I to Dick!
DICK.
And I To both!... Well, just to start the game.... Here goes For playmates: boys!
BABS AND BEESWAX.
[_Clapping hands with delight._] That’s it; just playmates: girls!
[_CHILDREN OF THE PAST, of many nationalities, peep forth from under beds, chairs, tables; from behind curtains, screens and doors, crying, “Here we are! Come, catch us, if you can!”_]
BABS, BEESWAX, AND DICK.
[_Running toward them._] O Children, come and play with us!
[_But the CHILDREN OF THE PAST disappear whenever THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN draw close to them. The latter exclaim, disappointed_:]
Oh, they’ve gone!
THIRD LOB.
Wait! Yonder comes one!
[_He points toward the screen from behind which emerges a fair little lad, about DICK’S age, in a blue smock and barefooted._]
THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.
[_Delighted._] Oh, a little boy!
THE VISITOR.
[_Introducing himself._] Son to the weaver by the Olive Gate In Genoa, Colombo. Named am I For Saint Cristoforo!
THE PRESENT-DAY CHILDREN.