Arthur Wing Pinero

“ LUCAS. Agnes dear, you and I leave here early tomorrow.
AGNES. Very well, Lucas.
LUCAS. [To ST. OLPHERTS.] Duke, will you be the bearer of a note from me to Sandford?
ST. OLPHERTS. Certainly.
LUCAS. [Going to the door of his room.] I'll write it at once.
ST. OLPHERTS. [Raising his voice.] You won't see Sandford, then, dear
Lucas, for a moment or two?
LUCAS. No, no; pray excuse me. [He goes out. ST. OLPHERTS advances to
AGNES. The sound of the music dies away.]
ST. OLPHERTS. [Slipping his coat off and throwing it upon the head of the settee.] Upon my soul, I think you've routed us! ”

“ There's a great career for him still.
GERTRUDE. In Parliament—now?
AGNES. No, he abandons that, and devotes himself to writing. We shall write much together, urging our views on this subject of Marriage. We shall have to be poor, I expect, but we shall be content.
GERTRUDE. Content!
AGNES. Quite content. Don't judge us by my one piece of cowardly folly in keeping the truth from you, Mrs. Thorpe, Indeed, it's our great plan to live the life we have mapped out for ourselves, fearlessly, openly; faithful to each other, helpful to each other, so long as we remain together. ”

“ GERTRUDE. Not—?
AGNES. Mr. Cleeve is no longer with his wife; he has left her.
GERTRUDE. Left—his wife!
AGNES. Like yourself, I am a widow. I don't know whether you've ever heard my name—Ebbsmith. [GERTRUDE stares at her blankly.] I beg your pardon sincerely. I never meant to conceal my true position; such a course is opposed to every true principle of mind. But I grew so attached to you in Florence and—well, it was contemptibly weak; I'll never do such a thing again. [She goes back to the table and commences to refill the vase with the fresh flowers.] ”

“ GERTRUDE. I want you to join me in persuading Mrs. Ebbsmith—my friend, Mrs. Ebbsmith—to come to Ketherick with me.
AMOS. My dear sister—!
GERTRUDE. [Firmly.] Please, Amos!
AGNES. Stop a moment! Mr. Winterfield, your sister doesn't in the least understand how matters are with me. I am returning to England, but with Mr. Cleeve. [Recklessly.] Oh, you'd hear of it eventually! He is reconciled to his wife.
GERTRUDE. Oh—! Then, surely, you—!
AGNES. No. The reconciliation goes no further than mere outward appearances. He relies upon me as much as ever. [Beating her hands together passionately.] ”

“ Lucas Cleeve.
AGNES. What is my estimate?
ST. OLPHERTS. I pay you the compliment of believing that you have looked upon my nephew as a talented young gentleman whose future was seriously threatened by domestic disorder; a young man of a certain courage and independence, with a share of the brain and spirit of those terrible human pests called reformers; the one gentleman, in fact, most likely to aid you in advancing your vivacious social and political tenets. You have such thoughts in your mind?
AGNES. I can't deny it.
ST. OLPHERTS. Ah! But what is the real, the actual Lucas Cleeve? ”

“ ST. OLPHERTS. "Epicure" offends you. A vain woman would find consolation in the word.
AGNES. Enough of it! Enough! Enough! [She turns away, beating her hands together. The light in the room has gradually become subdued; the warm tinge of sunset now colours the scene outside the window.]
ST. OLPHERTS. [With a shrug of his shoulders.] The real Lucas Cleeve.
AGNES. No, no! Untrue, untrue! [LUCAS enters. The three remain silent for a moment.] The Duke of St. Olpherts calls in answer to a letter I wrote to him yesterday. I wanted to make his acquaintance. [She goes out.] ”

“ SIR SANDFORD. We shall object to loftiness of attitude on your part, sir. You would do well to reflect that we are seeking to restore a young man to a useful and honourable career.
AMOS. You are using very honourable means, Sir Sandford.
SIR SANDFORD. I shall protest against any perversion of words, Mr.
Winterfield—
[The door of the further room opens, and GERTRUDE comes in, then AGNES. The latter is in a rusty, ill-fitting, black, stuff, dress; her hair is tightly drawn from her brows; her face is haggard, her eyes are red and sunken. A strip of linen binds her right hand.] ”

“ Ebbsmith?
AGNES. Mr. Cleeve would have opposed this rather out-of-the-way proceeding of mine. He doesn't know I have asked you to call on me today.
ST. OLPHERTS. So I conclude. It gives our meeting a pleasant air of adventure.
AGNES. I shall tell him directly he returns.
ST. OLPHERTS. [Gallantly.] And destroy a cherished secret.
AGNES. You are an invalid. [Motioning him to be seated.] Pray don't stand. [Sitting.] Your Grace is a man who takes life lightly. It will relieve you to hear that I wish to keep sentiment out of any business we have together. ”

“ AGNES. The women in your class of life?
ST. OLPHERTS. Faint? Oh yes, when there's occasion for it.
AGNES. I'm hopelessly low-born; I fainted involuntarily.
ST. OLPHERTS. [Moving closer to her.] Oh, my dear, pray forgive me.
You've recovered? [She nods.] Indisposition agrees with you, evidently.
Your colouring tonight is charming. [Coughing.] You are—delightful—
to—look at.
[GERTRUDE enters, carrying a tray on which are a bowl of soup, a small decanter of wine, and accessories. She looks at ST. OLPHERTS unconcernedly, then turns away and places the tray on a table.] ”

“ LUCAS. [Going to KIRKE, brightly.] Yes, and proved how ungrateful I've been to you, doctor.
KIRKE. Don't apologise. People who don't know when they're well are the mainstay of my profession. [Offering snuff-box.] Here— [LUCAS takes a pinch of snuff, laughingly.]
AGNES. [In a low voice to SIR GEORGE.] He has been terribly hipped at times. [Taking up the vase of flowers from the table.] Your visit will have made him another man. [She goes to a table, puts down the vase upon the tray, and commences to cut and arrange the fresh flowers she finds there.] ”

“ Si, Signora; ecco il Signore. (Yes, Signora; her is the Signor.) [To Cleeve.] Scusi, Signore. Quando la vendra come e cara—! (Pardon, Signor, when you see her you'll see how sweet she looks—!) [Agnes's voice is heard.]
AGNES. [Outside.] Am I keeping you waiting, Lucas?
[She enters, handsomely gowned, her throat and arms bare, the fashion of her hair roughly altered. She stops abruptly upon seeing ST. OLPHERTS; a strange light comes into her eyes; her voice, manner, bearing, all express triumph. The two men stare at her blankly. She appears to be a beautiful woman.] ”

“ GERTRUDE. [With a little shudder.] Ugh! Ugh! [AGNES moves away from GERTRUDE, to the end of the settee, her head bowed, her hands clenched.] I have something to propose. Come home with me tomorrow.
AGNES. [After a pause, raising her head.] Home—?
GERTRUDE. Ketherick. The very spot for a woman who wants to shut out things. Miles and miles of wild moorland! For company, purple heath and moss-covered granite, in summer; in winter, the moor-fowl and the snow glistening on top of the crags. Oh, and for open-air music, our little church owns the sweetest little peal of bells—! ”

“ LUCAS. That's a sensible girl! By Jove, I am hungry! [He lights a cigarette as she walks slowly to the door, then throws himself idly back on the settee.]
AGNES. [To herself, in a whisper.] My old life—my old life coming all over again! [She goes out. He lies watching the wreaths of tobacco smoke. After a moment or two FORTUNE enters, closing the door carefully behind him.]
LUCAS. Eh?
FORTUNE. [After a glance round, dropping his voice.] Ze Duke of St. Olphert 'e say 'e vould like to speak a meenit alone. [LUCAS rises, with a muttered exclamation of annoyance.] ”

“ AGNES. Suddenly, after our interview this afternoon; after what you said—
ST. OLPHERTS. Oh—!
AGNES. [With a little shiver.] An impulse.
ST. OLPHERTS. Impulse doesn't account for the possession of those gorgeous trappings.
AGNES. These rags? A surprise gift from Lucas, today.
ST. OLPHERTS. Really, my dear, I believe I've helped to bring about my own defeat. [Laughing softly.] Ho, ho, ho! How disgusted the Cleeve family will be! Ha, ha! [Testily.] Come, why don't you smile—laugh? You can afford to do so! Show your pretty white teeth! Laugh! ”

“ Thorpe, how exceedingly kind you and your brother have been to him during his illness.
GERTRUDE. Oh, Mr. Cleeve exaggerates our little services.
AMOS. I've done nothing.
GERTRUDE. Nor I.
DR. KIRKE. Now, my dear!
GERTRUDE. Dr Kirke, you weren't in Florence with us; you're only a tale-bearer.
DR. KIRKE. Well, I've excellent authority for my story of a young woman who volunteered to share the nursing of an invalid at a time when she herself stood greatly in need of being nursed.
GERTRUDE. Nonsense! ”

“ LUCAS. He did.
AGNES. He will want an answer— [She deliberately flings the bouquet over the balcony into the canal, then returns to the table and picks up her work.]
LUCAS. [Looking out again cautiously.] He throws his head back and laughs heartily. [Re-entering the room.] Oh, of course, his policy is to attempt to laugh me out of my resolves. They send him here merely to laugh at me, Agnes, to laugh at me— [coming to AGNES angrily.] laugh at me!
AGNES. He must be a man of small resources. [Threading her needle.] It is so easy to mock. ”

“ SYBIL. But Lady Cleeve—the mother—and the rest of the family have not had the patience to wait for the fulfilment of my prophecy. And so I have been forced to undertake this journey.
SIR SANDFORD. I demur to the expression "forced", Sybil—
SYBIL. Cannot we be left alone? Surely—! [SANDFORD bows stiffly and moves away, following ST. OLPHERTS.] However, there's this to be said for them, poor people—whatever is done to save my husband's prospects in life must be done now. It is no longer possible to play fast and loose with friends and supporters—to say nothing of enemies. ”

“ LUCAS. Love one of these women—I know!—worship here, yield yourself to the intoxicating day-dreams that make the grimy world sweeter than any heaven ever imagined. How you heart leaps with gratitude for your good fortune! How compassionately you regard your unblest fellow men! What may you not accomplish with such a mate beside you; how high will be your aims, how paltry every obstacle that bars your way to them; how sweet is to be the labour, how divine the rest! ”

“ ST. OLPHERTS. It's a pity that other people will retain their sense of the incongruous.
LUCAS. [Snapping his fingers.] Other people!—
ST. OLPHERTS. The public.
LUCAS. The public?
ST. OLPHERTS. Come, you know well enough that unostentatious immodesty is no part of your partner's programme. Of course, you will find yourself by-and-bye in a sort of perpetual parade with your crack-brained visionary—
LUCAS. You shall not speak of her so! You shall not.
ST. OLPHERTS. [Unconcernedly.] Each of you bearing a pole of the soiled banner of Free Union. Free Union for the People! Ho, my dear Lucas! ”

“ Long ago, in Florence, I began to suspect that we had made a mistake, Lucas. Even there I began to suspect that your nature was not one to allow you to go through life sternly, severely, looking upon me more and more each day as a fellow worker and less and less as —a woman. I suspected this—oh, proved it!—but still made myself believe that this companionship of ours would gradually become, in a sense, colder—more temperate, more impassive. [Beating her brow.] Never! never! ”

“ The Duke is this young fellow's uncle by marriage. His Grace married a sister of Lady Cleeve's —of Cleeve's mother, you know.
KIRKE. Oh! This looks as if the family are trying to put a finger in the pie.
SIR GEORGE. The Duke may be here by mere chance. Still, as you say, it does look— [Lowering his voice as KIRKE eyes an opening door.] Who's that?
KIRKE. The woman.
[AGNES enters. She moves firmly but noiselessly—a placid woman, with a sweet, low voice. Her dress is plain to the verge of coarseness; her face, which has little colour, is, at the first glance almost wholly unattractive.] ”

“ Because, occasionally, patience becomes exhausted at the mere contemplation of a man so self-absorbed? Why, you married miserably, the Duke of St. Olpherts tells us! Before you made yourself my husband's champion and protector, why didn't you let your experience speak a word for me? [AGNES quickly turns away and sits upon the settee, her hands to her brow.] However, I didn't come here to revile you. [Standing by her.] They say that you're a strange woman—not the sort of woman one generally finds doing such things as you have done; a woman with odd ideas. ”

“ Cleeve—talk to each other?
AGNES. As children do when the lights are put out—of everything but what's uppermost in their minds.
GERTRUDE. You have met the man?
AGNES. I intend to meet him.
GERTRUDE. Who is he?
AGNES. A relation of Lucas's—the Duke of St. Olpherts
GERTRUDE. He has right on his side, then?
AGNES. If you choose to think so.
GERTRUDE. Supposing he does succeed in taking Mr. Cleeve away from you?
AGNES. [Staring at GERTRUDE.] What, now, do you mean?
GERTRUDE. Yes.
[There is a brief pause; then AGNES walks across the room, wiping her brow with her handkerchief.] ”