Scene: Lady Frederick's dressing-room. At the back is a large opening, curtained, which leads to the bedroom; on the right a door leading to the passage; on the left a window. In front of the window, of which the blind is drawn, is a dressing-table. Lady Frederick's maid is in the room, a very neat pretty Frenchwoman. She speaks with a slight accent. She rings the bell, and the Footman enters.
As soon as Lord Mereston arrives he is to be shown in.
[Surprised.] Here?
Where else?
[The Footman winks significantly. The Maid draws herself up with dignity, and with a dramatic gesture points to the door.
Depart.
[The Footman goes out.
[From the bedroom.] Have you drawn the blind, Angélique?
I will do so, miladi. [She draws the blind, and the light falls brightly on the dressing-table.] But miladi will never be able to stand it. [She looks at herself in the glass.] Oh, the light of the sun in the morning! I cannot look at myself.
[As before.] There's no reason that you should – especially in my glass.
But if 'is lordship is coming, miladi must let me draw the blind. Oh, it is impossible.
Do as you're told and don't interfere.
[The Footman enters to announce Mereston. The Maid goes out.
Lord Mereston.
[As before.] Is that you, Charlie? You're very punctual.
I've been walking about outside till the clock struck.
I'm not nearly dressed, you know. I've only just had my bath.
Must I go?
No, of course not. You can talk to me while I'm finishing.
All right. How are you this morning?
I don't know. I haven't looked at myself in the glass yet. How are you?
A 1, thanks.
Are you looking nice?
[Going to the glass.] I hope so. By Jove, what a strong light. You must be pretty sure of your complexion to be able to stand that.
[Appearing.] I am.
[Going forward eagerly.] Ah.
[She comes through the curtains. She wears a kimono, her hair is all dishevelled, hanging about her head in a tangled mop. She is not made up and looks haggard and yellow and lined. When Mereston sees her he gives a slight start of surprise. She plays the scene throughout with her broadest brogue.
Good-morning.
[Staring at her in dismay.] Good-morning.
Well, what have you to say to me?
[Embarrassed.] I – er – hope you slept all right.
[Laughing.] Did you?
I forget.
I believe you slept like a top, Charlie. You really might have lain awake and thought of me. What is the matter? You look as if you'd seen a ghost.
Oh no, not at all.
You're not disappointed already?
No, of course not. Only – you look so different with your hair not done.
[With a little cry.] Oh, I'd forgotten all about it. Angélique, come and do my hair.
[Appearing.] Yes, miladi.
[Lady Frederick sits down at the dressing-table.
Now, take pains, Angélique. I want to look my very best. Angélique is a jewel of incalculable value.
Miladi is very kind.
If I'm light-hearted, she does it one way. If I'm depressed she does it another.
Oh, miladi, the perruquier who taught me said always that a good hairdresser could express every mood and every passion of the human heart.
Good heavens, you don't mean to say you can do all that?
Miladi, he said I was his best pupil.
Very well. Express – express a great crisis in my affairs.
That is the easiest thing in the world, miladi. I bring the hair rather low on the forehead, and that expresses a crisis in her ladyship's affairs.
But I always wear my hair low on the forehead.
Then it is plain her ladyship's affairs are always in a critical condition.
So they are. I never thought of that.
You've got awfully stunning hair, Lady Frederick.
D'you like it, really?
The colour's perfectly beautiful.
It ought to be. It's frightfully expensive.
You don't mean to say it's dyed?
Oh, no. Only touched up. That's quite a different thing.
Is it?
It's like superstition, you know, which is what other people believe. My friends dye their hair, but I only touch mine up. Unfortunately, it costs just as much.
And you have such a lot.
Oh, heaps. [She opens a drawer and takes out a long switch.] Give him a bit to look at.
Yes, miladi.
[She gives it to him.
Er – yes. [Not knowing what on earth to say.] How silky it is.
A poor thing, but mine own. At least, I paid for it. By the way, have I paid for it yet, Angélique?
Not yet, miladi. But the man can wait.
[Taking it from Mereston.] A poor thing, then, but my hairdresser's. Shall I put it on?
I wouldn't, if I were you.
If her ladyship anticipates a tragic situation, I would venture to recommend it. A really pathetic scene is impossible without a quantity of hair worn quite high on the head.
Oh, I know. Whenever I want to soften the hard heart of a creditor I clap on every bit I've got. But I don't think I will to-day. I'll tell you what, a temple curl would just fit the case.
Then her ladyship inclines to comedy. Very well, I say no more.
[Lady Frederick takes two temple-curls from the drawer.
Aren't they dears?
Yes.
You've admired them very often, Charlie, haven't you? I suppose you never knew they cost a guinea each?
It never occurred to me they were false.
The masculine intelligence is so gross. Didn't your mother tell you?
My mother told me a great deal.
I expect she overdid it. There. Now that's done. D'you think it looks nice?
Charming.
Angélique, his lordship is satisfied. You may disappear.
Yes, miladi.
[She goes.
Now, tell me you think I'm the most ravishing creature you ever saw in your life.
I've told you that so often.
[Stretching out her hands.] You are a nice boy. It was charming of you to say – what you did yesterday. I could have hugged you there and then.
Could you?
Oh, my dear, don't be so cold.
I'm very sorry, I didn't mean to be.
Haven't you got anything nice to say to me at all?
I don't know what I can say that I've not said a thousand times already.
Tell me what you thought of all night when you tossed on that sleepless pillow of yours.
I was awfully anxious to see you again.
Didn't you have a dreadful fear that I shouldn't be as nice as you imagined? Now, come – honestly.
Well, yes, I suppose it crossed my mind.
And am I?
Of course.
You're sure you're not disappointed?
Quite sure.
What a relief! You know, I've been tormenting myself dreadfully. I said to myself: "He'll go on thinking of me till he imagines I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, and then, when he comes here and sees the plain reality, it'll be an awful blow."
What nonsense! How could you think anything of the kind?
Are you aware that you haven't shown the least desire to kiss me yet?
I thought – I thought you might not like it.
It'll be too late in a minute.
Why?
Because I'm just going to make up, you silly boy.
How? I don't understand.
You said I must be very sure of my complexion. Of course I am. Here it is.
[She runs her fingers over a row of little pots and vases.
Oh, I see. I beg your pardon.
You don't mean to say you thought it natural?
It never occurred to me it might be anything else.
It's really too disheartening. I spend an hour every day of my life making the best complexion in Monte Carlo, and you think it's natural. Why, I might as well be a dairymaid of eighteen.
I'm very sorry.
I forgive you… You may kiss my hand. [He does so.] You dear boy. [Looking at herself in the glass.] Oh, Betsy, you're not looking your best to-day. [Shaking her finger at the glass.] This won't do, Betsy, my dear. You're very nearly looking your age. [Turning round quickly.] D'you think I look forty?
I never asked myself how old you were.
Well, I'm not, you know. And I shan't be as long as there's a pot of rouge and a powder puff in the world. [She rubs grease paint all over her face.]
What are you doing?
I wish I were an actress. They have such an advantage. They only have to make up to look well behind the footlights; but I have to expose myself to that beastly sun.
[Nervously.] Yes, of course.
Is your mother dreadfully annoyed with you? And Paradine must be furious. I shall call him Uncle Paradine next time I see him. It'll make him feel so middle-aged. Charlie, you don't know how grateful I am for what you did yesterday. You acted like a real brick.
It's awfully good of you to say so.
[Turning.] Do I look a fright?
Oh, no, not at all.
I love this powder. It plays no tricks with you. Once I put on a new powder that I bought in Paris, and as soon as I went into artificial light it turned a bright mauve. I was very much annoyed. You wouldn't like to go about with a mauve face, would you?
No, not at all.
Fortunately I had a green frock on. And mauve and green were very fashionable that year. Still I'd sooner it hadn't been on my face… There. I think that'll do as a foundation. I'm beginning to feel younger already. Now for the delicate soft bloom of youth. The great difficulty, you know, is to make both your cheeks the same colour. [Turning to him.] Charlie, you're not bored, are you?
No, no.
I always think my observations have a peculiar piquancy when I have only one cheek rouged. I remember once I went out to dinner, and as soon as I sat down I grew conscious of the fact that one of my cheeks was much redder than the other.
By George, that was awkward.
Charlie, you are a good-looking boy. I had no idea you were so handsome. And you look so young and fresh, it's quite a pleasure to look at you.
[Laughing awkwardly.] D'you think so? What did you do when you discovered your predicament?
Well, by a merciful interposition of Providence, I had a foreign diplomatist on my right side which bloomed like a rose, and a bishop on my left which was white like the lily. The diplomatist told me risky stories all through dinner so it was quite natural that this cheek should blush fiery red. And as the Bishop whispered in my left ear harrowing details of distress in the East End, it was only decent that the other should exhibit a becoming pallor. [Meanwhile she has been rouging her cheeks.] Now look carefully, Charlie, and you'll see how I make the Cupid's bow which is my mouth. I like a nice healthy colour on the lips, don't you?
Isn't it awfully uncomfortable to have all that stuff on?
Ah, my dear boy, it's woman's lot to suffer in this world. But it's a great comfort to think that one is submitting to the decrees of Providence and at the same time adding to one's personal attractiveness. But I confess I sometimes wish I needn't blow my nose so carefully. Smile, Charlie. I don't think you're a very ardent lover, you know.
I'm sorry. What would you like me to do?
I should like you to make me impassioned speeches.
I'm afraid they'd be so hackneyed.
Never mind that. I've long discovered that under the influence of profound emotion a man always expresses himself in the terms of the Family Herald.
You must remember that I'm awfully inexperienced.
Well, I'll let you off this time – because I like your curly hair. [She sighs amorously.] Now for the delicate arch of my eyebrows. I don't know what I should do without this. I've got no eyebrows at all really… Have you ever noticed that dark line under the eyes which gives such intensity to my expression?
Yes, often.
[Holding out the pencil.] Well, here it is. Ah, my dear boy, in this pencil you have at will roguishness and languor, tenderness and indifference, sprightliness, passion, malice, what you will. Now be very quiet for one moment. If I overdo it my whole day will be spoilt. You mustn't breathe even. Whenever I do this I think how true those lines are:
"The little more and how much it is.
The little less and what worlds away."
There! Now just one puff of powder, and the whole world's kind. [Looking at herself in the glass and sighing with satisfaction.] Ah! I feel eighteen. I think it's a success, and I shall have a happy day. Oh, Betsy, Betsy, I think you'll do. You know, you're not unattractive, my dear. Not strictly beautiful, perhaps; but then I don't like the chocolate-box sort of woman. I'll just go and take off this dressing-gown. [Mereston gets up.] No, don't move. I'll go into my bedroom. I shall only be one moment. [Lady Frederick goes through the curtains.] Angélique.
[The Maid enters.
Yes, miladi.
Just clear away those things on the dressing-table.
[Doing so.] Very well, miladi.
You may have a cigarette, Charlie.
Thanks. My nerves are a bit dicky this morning.
Oh, blow the thing! Angélique, come and help me.
Yes, miladi.
[She goes out.
At last.
[She comes in, having changed the kimono for a very beautiful dressing-gown of silk and lace.
Now, are you pleased?
Of course I'm pleased.
Then you may make love to me.
You say such disconcerting things.
[Laughing.] Well, Charlie, you've found no difficulty in doing it for the last fortnight. You're not going to pretend that you're already at a loss for pretty speeches?
When I came here, I had a thousand things to say to you, but you've driven them all out of my head. Won't you give me an answer now?
What to?
You've not forgotten that I asked you to marry me?
No, but you asked me under very peculiar circumstances. I wonder if you can repeat the offer now in cold blood?
Of course. What a cad you must think me!
Are you sure you want to marry me still – after having slept over it?
Yes.
You are a good boy, and I'm a beast to treat you so abominably. It's awfully nice of you.
Well, what is the answer?
My dear, I've been giving it you for the last half-hour.
How?
You don't for a moment suppose I should have let you into those horrible mysteries of my toilette if I'd had any intention of marrying you? Give me credit for a certain amount of intelligence and good feeling. I should have kept up the illusion, at all events till after the honeymoon.
Are you going to refuse me?
Aren't you rather glad?
No, no, no.
[Putting her arm through his.] Now let us talk it over sensibly. You're a very nice boy, and I'm awfully fond of you. But you're twenty-two, and heaven only knows my age. You see, the church in which I was baptized was burnt down the year I was born, so I don't know how old I am.
[Smiling.] Where was it burnt?
In Ireland.
I thought so.
Just at present I can make a decent enough show by taking infinite pains; and my hand is not so heavy that the innocent eyes of your sex can discover how much of me is due to art. But in ten years you'll only be thirty-two, and then, if I married you, my whole life would be a mortal struggle to preserve some semblance of youth. Haven't you seen those old hags who've never surrendered to Anno Domini, with their poor, thin, wrinkled cheeks covered with paint, and the dreadful wigs that hide a hairless pate? Rather cock-eyed, don't you know, and invariably flaxen. You've laughed at their ridiculous graces, and you've been disgusted too. Oh, I'm so sorry for them, poor things. And I should become just like that, for I should never have the courage to let my hair be white so long as yours was brown. But if I don't marry you, I can look forward to the white hairs fairly happily. The first I shall pluck out, and the second I shall pluck out. But when the third comes I'll give in, and I'll throw my rouge and my poudre de riz and my pencils into the fire.
But d'you think I should ever change?
My dear boy, I'm sure of it. Can't you imagine what it would be to be tied to a woman who was always bound to sit with her back to the light? And sometimes you might want to kiss me.
I think it very probable.
Well, you couldn't – in case you disarranged my complexion. [Mereston sighs deeply.] Don't sigh, Charlie. I daresay I was horrid to let you fall in love with me, but I'm only human, and I was desperately flattered.
Was that all?
And rather touched. That is why I want to give a cure with my refusal.
But you break my heart.
My dear, men have said that to me ever since I was fifteen, but I've never noticed that in consequence they ate their dinner less heartily.
I suppose you think it was only calf-love?
I'm not such a fool as to imagine a boy can love any less than a man. If I'd thought your affection ridiculous I shouldn't have been so flattered.
It doesn't hurt any the less because the wounds you make are clean cut.
But they'll soon heal. And you'll fall in love with a nice girl of your own age, whose cheeks flush with youth and not with rouge, and whose eyes sparkle because they love you, and not because they're carefully made up.
But I wanted to help you. You're in such an awful scrape, and if you'll only marry me it can all be set right.
Oh, my dear, don't go in for self-sacrifice. You must leave that to women. They're so much more used to it.
Isn't there anything I can do for you?
No, dear. I shall get out of the mess somehow. I always do. You really need not worry about me.
You know, you are a brick.
Then it's all settled, isn't it? And you're not going to be unhappy?
I'll try not to be.
I'd like to imprint a chaste kiss on your forehead, only I'm afraid it would leave a mark.
[The Footman comes in and announces Paradine Fouldes.
Mr. Paradine Fouldes.
[Exit.
Do I disturb?
Not at all. We've just finished our conversation.
Well?
If any one wants to know who the best woman in the world is send 'em to me, and I'll tell them.
[Taking his hand.] You dear! Good-bye.
Good-bye. And thanks for being so kind to me.
[He goes out.
Do I see in front of me my prospective niece?
Why d'you ask, Uncle Paradine?
Singularly enough because I want to know.
Well, it so happens – you don't.
You've refused him?
I have.
Then will you tell me why you've been leading us all such a devil of a dance?
Because you interfered with me, and I allow no one to do that.
Hoity-toity.
You weren't really so foolish as to imagine I should marry a boy who set me up on a pedestal and vowed he was unworthy to kiss the hem of my garment?
Why not?
My dear Paradine, I don't want to commit suicide by sheer boredom. There's only one thing in the world more insufferable than being in love.
And what is that, pray?
Why, having some one in love with you.
I've suffered from it all my life.
Think of living up to the ideal Charlie has of me. My hair would turn a hydrogen yellow in a week. And then to be so desperately adored as all that – oh, it's so dull! I should have to wear a mask all day long. I could never venture to be natural in case I shocked him. And notwithstanding all my efforts I should see the illusions tumbling about his ears one by one till he realised I was no ethereal goddess, but a very ordinary human woman neither better nor worse than anybody else.
Your maxim appears to be, marry any one you like except the man that's in love with you.
Ah, but don't you think I might find a man who loved me though he knew me through and through? I'd far rather that he saw my faults and forgave them than that he thought me perfect.
But how d'you know you've choked the boy off for good?
I took good care. I wanted to cure him. If it had been possible I would have shown him my naked soul. But I couldn't do that, so I let him see…
[Interrupting.] What!
[Laughing.] No, not quite. I had a dressing-gown on and other paraphernalia. But I made him come here when I wasn't made up, and he sat by while I rouged my cheeks.
And the young fool thought there was nothing more in you than a carefully prepared complexion?
He was very nice about it. But I think he was rather relieved when I refused him.
[There is a knock at the door.]
[Outside.] May we come in?
Yes do.
Enter Gerald and Rose and the Admiral.
[Excitedly.] I say, it's all right. The Admiral's come down like a real brick. I've told him everything.
What do you mean? Good-morning, dear Admiral.
Good-morning.
I've made a clean breast of it. I talked it over with Rosie.
And we went to papa together.
And told him that I owed Montgomerie nine hundred pounds.
And we thought papa would make an awful scene.
Raise Cain, don't you know.
But he never said a word.
He was simply ripping over it.
[Putting her hands to her ears.] Oh, oh, oh. For heaven's sake be calm and coherent.
My dear, you don't know what a relief it is.
I saw Gerald was dreadfully worried, and I wormed it out of him.
I'm so glad to be out of the clutches of that brute.
Now we're going to live happily ever afterwards.
[All the while the Admiral has been trying to get a word in, but each time he is about to start one of the others has broken in.
Silence. [He puffs and blows.] I never saw such a pair in my life.
Now do explain it all, Admiral. I can't make head or tail out of these foolish creatures.
Well, they came and told me that Montgomerie had an I.O.U. of Gerald's for nine hundred pounds and was using it to blackmail you.
Is that a fact?
Yes.
I never liked the man's face. And when they said his terms were that you were to marry him or Gerald would have to send in his papers, I said …
Damn his impudence.
How did you know?
Because I'd have said it myself.
And the Admiral stumped up like a man. He gave me a cheque for the money, and I've just this moment sent it on to Montgomerie.
[Taking both his hands.] It's awfully good of you, and I'm sure you'll never regret that you gave Gerald a chance.
May I have a few words' private conversation with you?
Of course. [To the others.] Make yourselves scarce.
We'll go on the balcony, shall we?
I'm sorry to trouble you, but it'll only take three minutes.
[Gerald and Rose and Fouldes go on to the balcony.
[When they've gone.] There.
Well, what I wanted to say to you was this: I like Gerald, but I think he wants guiding. D'you follow me?
I'm sure he will take your advice always.
It's a woman's hand that he wants. Now if you and I were to join forces we could keep him out of mischief, couldn't we?
Oh, I'll come and stay with you whenever you ask me. I love giving good advice when I'm quite sure it won't be taken.
I was thinking of a more permanent arrangement. Look here, why don't you marry me?
My dear Admiral!
I don't think an attractive woman like you ought to live alone. She's bound to get in a scrape.
It's awfully good of you, but…
You don't think I'm too old, do you?
Of course not. You're in the very prime of life.
There's life in the old dog yet, I can tell you.
I feel sure of that. I never doubted it for a moment.
Then what have you got against me?
You wouldn't like to commit polygamy, would you?
Eh?
You see, it's not a question of marrying me only, but all my tradespeople.
I hadn't thought of that.
Besides, you're Rose's father, and I'm Gerald's sister. If we married I should be my brother's mother-in-law, and my step-daughter would be my sister. Your daughter would be your sister-in-law, and your brother would just snap his fingers at your fatherly advice.
[Confused.] Eh?
I don't know if the prayer-book allows things like that, but if it does I think it's hopelessly immoral.
Well, shall I tell them I've changed my mind and they can't marry?
Then there'd be no reason for us to – commit the crime, would there?
I hadn't thought of that. I suppose not.
You're not cross with me, are you? I'm very much flattered, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Not at all, not at all. I only thought it might save trouble.
[Calling.] Gerald. Come along. [They come in.] We've had our little talk.
Everything satisfactory?
[With a look at the Admiral.] Quite.
[Gruffly.] Quite.
Captain Montgomerie wishes to know if he may see your ladyship.
I'd forgotten all about him.
Let me go to him, shall I?
No, I'm not afraid of him any longer. He can't do anything to you. And as far as I'm concerned it doesn't matter.
Then I'll tell him to go to the devil.
No, I'm going to tell him that myself. [To the Footman.] Ask Captain Montgomerie to come here.
Yes, miladi.
[Exit.
Lady Frederick.
[Walking up and down furiously.] I'm going to tell him that myself.
Now keep calm, Betsy.
[Very deliberately.] I shall not keep calm.
Remember that you're a perfect lady.
Don't interfere with me. I ate humble pie yesterday, and it didn't agree with me at all.
[Footman enters to announce Captain Montgomerie, who follows him, and immediately withdraws.
Captain Montgomerie.
How d'you do.
[He is obviously surprised to see the others.
[Pleasantly.] Quite a party, aren't we?
Yes. [A pause.] I hope you don't mind my coming so early?
Not at all. You made an appointment for half-past ten.
I trust you have good news for me.
Captain Montgomerie, every one here knows the circumstances that have brought you.
I should have thought it wiser for both our sakes not to make them too public.
[Very amiably.] I don't see why you should be ashamed because you made me a proposal of marriage?
I'm sorry you should think it a laughing matter, Lady Frederick.
I don't. I never laugh at an impertinence.
[Taken aback.] I beg your pardon.
Surely the receipt of my brother's letter was sufficient answer for you. After that you must have guessed there was no likelihood that I should change my mind.
What letter? I don't understand.
I sent you a note this morning enclosing a cheque for the money I lost to you.
I've not received it.
It must be waiting for you at the hotel.
[Captain Montgomerie pauses and looks meditatively at the assembled company.
I think there's nothing for which I need detain you longer.
[Smiling.] I don't think I've quite finished yet. Has it slipped your memory that the two bills fall due to-day? Allow me to present them.
[He takes them out of his pocket-book.
I'm very sorry I can't pay them – at present.
I regret that I can't wait. You must pay them.
I tell you it's impossible.
Then I shall get an order against you.
That you may do to your heart's content.
You realise the consequences. It's not very nice to be an undischarged bankrupt.
Much nicer than to marry a rascally money-lender.
May I look at these interesting documents?
Certainly. [Blandly.] I haven't the least wish to be offensive.
[Taking them.] You fail lamentably in achieving your wish. Three thousand five hundred pounds in all. It seems hardly worth while to make a fuss about so small a sum.
I'm in urgent need of money.
[Ironically.] So rich a man as you?
Even a rich man may be temporarily embarrassed.
Then be so good as to wait for one moment. [He sits down at a table and writes a cheque.] No sight is more affecting than that of a millionaire in financial straits.
Paradine!
[Handing the cheque.] Now, sir, I think that settles it. Will you exchange my cheque for those bills?
Damn you, I forgot you.
You may not be aware that it's unusual to swear in the presence of ladies.
[Looking at the cheque.] I suppose it's all right.
[Paradine goes to the door and opens it.
There is the window, and here is the door. Which will you choose?
[Captain Montgomerie looks at him without answering, shrugs his shoulders and goes out.
Oh, Paradine, you are a brick.
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