Man and Superman and Three Other Plays (26 page)

MARCHBANKS Oh, don't torture me. The one great fact now is that your wife's beautiful fingers are dabbling in paraffin oil, and that you are sitting here comfortably preaching about it—everlasting preaching, preaching, words, words, words.

BURGESS
[intensely appreciating this retort
] Ha, ha! Devil a better. [
Radiantly
] ‘Ad you there, James, straight.
[CANDIDA comes in, well aproned, with a reading lamp trimmed,filled, and ready for lighting. She places it on the table near MORELL, ready for use.
]

CANDIDA
[brushing her finger tips together with a slight twitch of her nose]
If you stay with us, Eugene, I think I will hand over the lamps to you.

MARCHBANKS I will stay on condition that you hand over all the rough work to me.

CANDIDA That's very gallant; but I think I should like to see how you do it first.
[Turning to MORELL.]
James: you've not been looking after the house properly.

MORELL What have I done—or not done—my love?

CANDIDA
[with serious vexation]
My own particular pet scrubbing brush has been used for blackleading.
[.A heartbreaking wail bursts from MARCHBANKS. BURGESS looks round, amazed. CANDIDA hurries to the sofa.
] What's the matter? Are you ill, Eugene?

MARCHBANKS No, not ill . Only horror, horror, horror!
[He bows his head on his hands.
]

BURGESS [
shocked
] What! Got the ‘orrors, Mr. Morchbanks! Oh, that's bad, at your age. You must leave it off grajally.

CANDIDA
[reassured]
Nonsense, papa. It's only poetic horror, isn't it, Eugene? [Petting him.]

BURGESS [
abashed
] Oh, poetic ‘orror, is it? I beg your pordon, I'm shore.
[He turns to the fire again, deprecating his hasty conclusion.]

CANDIDA What is it, Eugene—the scrubbing brush? [He
shud
ders.] Well, there! never mind. [
She sits down beside him.
] Wouldn't you like to present me with a nice new one, with an ivory back inlaid with mother-of-pearl?

MARCHBANKS
[softly and musically, but sadly and longingly]
No, not a scrubbing brush, but a boat—a tiny shallop
¹²
to sail away in, far from the world, where the marble floors are washed by the rain and dried by the sun, where the south wind dusts the beautiful green and purple carpets. Or a chariot—to carry us up into the sky, where the lamps are stars, and don't need to be filled with paraffin oil every day.

MORELL [
harshty
] And where there is nothing to do but to be idle, selfish and useless.

CANDIDA
[jarred]
Oh, James, how could you spoil it all!

MARCHBANKS [
firing up
] Yes, to be idle, selfish and useless: that is to be beautiful and free and happy: hasn't every man desired that with all his soul for the woman he loves? That's my ideal: what's yours, and that of all the dreadful people who live in these hideous rows of houses? Sermons and scrubbing brushes! With you to preach the sermon and your wife to scrub.

CANDIDA
[quaintly]
He cleans the boots, Eugene. You will have to clean them to-morrow for saying that about him.

MARCHBANKS Oh! don't talk about boots. Your feet should be beautiful on the mountains.
^am

CANDIDA My feet would not be beautiful on the Hackney Road without boots.

BURGESS
[scandalized]
Come, Candy, don't be vulgar. Mr. Morchbanks ain't accustomed to it. You're givin' him the ‘orrors again. I mean the poetic ones.
[MORELL is silent. Apparently he is busy with his letters: really he is puzzling with misgiving over his new and alarming experience that the surer he is of his moral thrusts, the more swiftly and effectively EUGENE parries them. To find himself beginning to fear a man whom he does not respect afflicts him bitterly. ) [MISS GARNETT comes in with a telegram.
]

PROSERPINE
(handing the telegram to MORELL]
Reply paid. The boy's waiting. [To
CANDIDA, coming back to her machine and sitting down.
Maria is ready for you now in the kitchen, Mrs. Morell.
[CANDIDA rises.]
The onions have come.

MARCHBANKS
[convulsively]
Onions!

CANDIDA Yes, onions. Not even Spanish ones—nasty little red onions. You shall help me to slice them. Come along.
[She catches him by the wrist and runs out, pulling him after her. BURGESS rises in consternation, and stands aghast on the hearth-rug, staring after them.
]

BURGESS Candy didn't oughter ‘andle a peer's nevvy
^an
like that. It's goin' too fur with it. Lookee 'ere, James: do ‘e often git taken queer like that?

MORELL
[shortly, writing a telegram]
I don't know.

BURGESS
[sentimentally]
He talks very pretty. I allus had a turn for a bit of potery. Candy takes arter me that-a-way: huse ter make me tell her fairy stories when she was on' y a little kiddy not that ‘igh
[indicating a stature of two feet or thereabouts].

MORELL
[preoccupied]
Ah, indeed.
[He blots the telegram, and goes out.
]

PROSERPINE Used you to make the fairy stories up out of your own head?
[BURGESS, not deigning to reply, strikes an attitude of the haughtiest disdain on the hearth-rug.
]

PROSERPINE
[calmly]
I should never have supposed you had it in you. By the way, I'd better warn you, since you've taken such a fancy to Mr. Marchbanks. He's mad.

BURGESS Mad! Wot! ‘Im too!!

PROSERPINE Mad as a March hare. He did frighten me, I can tell you just before you came in that time. Haven't you noticed the queer things he says?

BURGESS So that's wot the poetic ‘orrors means. Blame me if it didn't come into my head once or twyst that he must be off his chump!
^ao
[He crosses the room to the door, lifting up his voice as he goes.
Well, this is a pretty sort of asylum for a man to be in, with no one but you to take care of him!

PROSERPINE [
as he passes her
] Yes, what a dreadful thing it would be if anything happened to you!

BURGESS
[loftily]
Don't you address no remarks to me. Tell your hemployer that I've gone into the garden for a smoke.

PROSERPINE
[mocking]
Oh! [
Before BURGESS can retort, MORELL comes back.
]

BURGESS [
sentimentally
] Goin' for a turn in the garden to smoke, James.

MORELL [
brusquely
] Oh, all right, all right. [BURGESS
goes out pathetically in the character of the weary old man. MORELL stands at the table, turning over his papers, and adding, across to PROSERPINE, half humorously, half absently
] Well, Miss Prossy, why have you been calling my father-in-law names?

PROSERPINE
[blushing fiery red, and looking quickly up at him, half iscared, half reproachful
]
I-
[
She bursts into tears.
]

MORELL [
with tender gaiety, leaning across the table towards her, and consoling her
] Oh, come, come, come! Never mind, Pross: he isasilly old fathead, isn't he?

[
With an explosive sob, she makes a dash at the door, and vanishes, banging it. MORELL, shaking his head resignedly, sighs, and goes wearily to his chair, where he sits down and sets to work, looking old and careworn.]

[CANDIDA comes in. She has finished her household work and taken off the apron. She at once notices his dejected appearance, and posts herself quietly at the spare chair, looking down at him attentively; but she
says
nothing.
]

MORELL [
looking up, but with his pen raised ready to resume his work]
Well? Where is Eugene?

CANDIDA Washing his hands in the scullery-under the tap. He will make an excellent cook if he can only get over his dread of Maria.

MORELL [
shortly
] Ha! No doubt. [He begins writing
again.
]

CANDIDA [
going
nearer,
and putting her hand down softly on his to stop him, as she says
] Come here, dear. Let me look at you. [He drops
his pen and yields himself at her disposal. She makes him rise and brings him a little away from the table, looking at him critically all the time.]
Turn your face to the light.
[She places him facing the window.
] My boy is not looking well. Has he been overworking?

MORELL Nothing more than usual.

CANDIDA He looks very pale, and grey, and wrinkled, and old. [His melancholy deepens;
and
she
attacks it with wilful gaiety.
] Here [
pulling him towards the easy chair]
you've done enough writing for to-day. Leave Prossy to finish it and come and talk to me.

iMORELL But-

CANDIDA Yes, I must be talked to sometimes.
[She makes him sit down, and seats herself on the carpet beside his knee.
] Now
[patting
his hand] you're beginning to look better already. Why don't you give up all this tiresome overworking—going out every night lecturing and talking? Of course what you say is all very true and very right; but it does no good: they don't mind what you say to them one little bit. Of course they agree with you; but what's the use of people agreeing with you if they go and do just the opposite of what you tell them the moment your back is turned? Look at our congregation at St. Dominic‘s! Why do they come to hear you talking about Christianity every Sunday? Why, just because they've been so full of business and money-making for six days that they want to forget all about it and have a rest on the seventh, so that they can go back fresh and make money harder than ever! You positively help them at it instead of hindering them.

MORELL [
with energetic seriousness]
You know very well, Candida, that I often blow them up soundly for that. But if there is nothing in their church-going but rest and diversion, why don't they try something more amusing—more self-indulgent? There must be some good in the fact that they prefer St. Dominic's to worse places on Sundays.

CANDIDA Oh, the worst places aren't open; and even if they were, they daren't be seen going to them. Besides, James, dear, you preach so splendidly that it's as good as a play for them. Why do you think the women are so enthusiastic?

MORELL [shocked] Candida!

CANDIDA Oh,
I
know. You silly boy: you think it's your Socialism and your religion; but if it was that, they'd do what you tell them instead of only coming to look at you. They all have Prossy's complaint.

MORELL Prossy's complaint! What do you mean, Candida?

CANDIDA Yes, Prossy, and all the other secretaries you ever had. Why does Prossy condescend to wash up the things, and to peel potatoes and abase herself in all manner of ways for six shillings a week less than she used to get in a city office? She's in love with you, James: that's the reason. They're all in love with you. And you are in love with preaching because you do it so beautifully. And you think it's all enthusiasm for the kingdom of Heaven on earth; and so do they. You dear silly!

MORELL Candida: what dreadful, what soul-destroying cynicism ! Are you jesting? Or-can it be?—are you jealous?

CANDIDA
[with curious thoughtfulness
] Yes, I feel a little jealous sometimes.

MORELL [
incredulously
] What! Of Prossy!

CANDIDA [
laughing
] No, no, no, no. Not jealous of anybody. Jealous for somebody else, who is not loved as he ought to be.

MORELL Me!

CANDIDA You! Why, you're spoiled with love and worship: you get far more than is good for you. No: I mean Eugene.

MORELL
[startled]
Eugene!

CANDIDA It seems unfair that all the love should go to you, and none to him, although he needs it so much more than you do. [A
convulsive movement shakes him in spite of himself
] What's the matter ? Am I worrying you?

MORELL [
hastily
] Not at all.
[Looking at her with troubled intensity.
] You know that I have perfect confidence in you, Candida.

CANDIDA You vain thing! Are you so sure of your irresistible attractions ?

MORELL Candida: you are shocking me. I never thought of my attractions. I thought of your goodness-your purity. That is what I confide in.

CANDIDA What a nasty, uncomfortable thing to say to me! Oh, you area clergyman, James-a thorough clergyman.

MORELL
[turning away from her, heart-stricken]
So Eugene says.

CANDIDA [
with lively interest, leaning over to him with her arms on his knee]
Eugene's always right. He's a wonderful boy: I have grown fonder and fonder of him all the time I was away. Do you know, James, that though he has not the least suspicion of it himself, he is ready to fall madly in love with me?

MORELL [
grimly
] Oh, he has no suspicion of it himself, hasn't he?

CANDIDA Not a bit. [
She takes her arms from his knee, and turns thoughtfully, sinking into a more restful attitude with her hands in her lap.
] Some day he will know-when he is grown up and experienced, like you. And he will know that I must have known. I wonder what he will think of me then.

MORELL No evil, Candida. I hope and trust, no evil.

CANDIDA [
dubiously
] That will depend.

MORELL [
bewildered
] Depend!

CANDIDA
[looking at him]
Yes: it will depend on what happens to him.
[He looks vacantly at her.]
Don't you see? It will depend on how he comes to learn what love really is. I mean on the sort of woman who will teach it to him.

MORELL [
quite at a
loss] Yes. No. I don't know what you mean.