THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH by ARTHUR WING PINERO THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY AGNES LUCAS CLEEVE SYBIL CLEEVE SIR SANDFORD CLEEVE DUKE OF ST. OLPHERTS GERTRUDE THORPE REV. AMOS WINTERFIELD SIR GEORGE BRODRICK DR. KIRKE FORTUNE ANTONIO POPPI NELLA HEPHZIBAH The Scene is laid in Venice--first at the Palazzo Arconati, a lodginghouse on the Grand Canal; afterwards in an apartment in the CampoS. Bartolomeo. It is Easter-tide, a week passing between the events of the First andSecond Acts. THE FIRST ACT The Scene is a room in the Palazzo Arconati, on the Grand Canal, Venice. The room itself is beautiful in its decayed grandeur, but thefurnishings and hangings are either tawdry and meretricious or avowedlymodern. The three windows at the back open on to a narrow coveredbalcony, or loggia, and through them can be seen the west side of thecanal. Between recessed double doors on either side of the room is afireplace out of use and a marble mantelpiece, but a tiled stove isused for a wood fire. Breakfast things are laid on the table. The sunstreams into the room. [ANTONIO POPPI and NELLA, two Venetian servants, with a touchof the picturesque in their attire, are engaged in clearing thebreakfast-table. ] NELLA. [Turning her head. ] Ascolta! (Listen!) ANTONIO. Una gondola allo scalo. (A gondala at our steps. )[They openthe centre-window, go out on to the balcony, and look down below. ] LaSignora Thorpe. (The Signora Thorpe. ) NELLO. Con suo fratello. (With her brother. ) ANTONIO. [Calling. ] Buon di, Signor Winterfield! Iddio la benedica![Good day, Signor Winterfield! The blessing of God be upon you!] NELLA. [Calling. ] Buon di, Signora! La Madonna Passista! (Good day, Signora! May the Virgin have you in her keeping!) ANTONIO. [Returning to the room. ] Noi siamo in ritardo di tutto questamattina. (We are behindhand with everything this morning. ) NELLA. [Following him. ] E vero. (That is true. ) ANTONIO. [Bustling about. ] La stufa! (The stove!) NELLA. [Throwing wood into the stove. ] Che tua sia benedetta perrammentarmelo! Questi Inglesi non si contentono del sole. (Bless youfor remembering it. These English are not content with the sun. ) [Leaving only a vase of flowers upon the table, they hurry out with thebreakfast things. At the same moment, FORTUNE, a manservant, enters, showing in MRS. THORPE and the REV. AMOS WINTERFIELD. GERTRUDE THORPEis a pretty, frank-looking young woman of about seven and twenty. Sheis in mourning, and has sorrowful eyes and a complexion that is toodelicate, but natural cheerfulness and brightness are seen through all. AMOS is about forty--big, burly, gruff; he is untidily dressed, andhas a pipe in his hand. FORTUNE is carrying a pair of freshly-cleanedtan-coloured boots upon boot-trees. ] GERTRUDE. Now, Fortune, you ought to have told us downstairs that Dr. Kirke is with Mrs. Cleeve. AMOS. Come away, Gerty. Mrs. Cleeve can't want to be bored with us justnow. FORTUNE. Mrs. Cleeve give 'er ordares she is always to be bored wizMadame Thorpe and Mr. Winterfield. AMOS. Ha, Ha! GERTRUDE. [Smiling. ] Fortune! FORTUNE. Besides, ze doctares vill go in 'alf a minute, you see. GERTRUDE. Doctors! AMOS. What, is there another doctor with Dr. Kirke? FORTUNE. Ze great physician, Sir Brodrick. GERTRUDE. Sir George Brodrick? Amos! AMOS. Doesn't Mr. Cleeve feel so well? FORTUNE. Oh, yes. But Mrs. Cleeve 'appen to read in a newspapare zatSir George Brodrick vas in Florence for ze Paque--ze Eastare. SirBrodrick vas Mr. Cleeve's doctor in London, Mrs. Cleeve tell me, so'eis acquainted wiz Mr. Cleeve's inside. AMOS. Ho, ho! GERTRUDE. Mr. Cleeve's constitution, Fortune. FORTUNE. Excuse, madame. Zerefore Mrs. Cleeve she telegraph for SirBrodrick to come to Venise. AMOS. To consult with Dr. Kirke, I suppose. FORTUNE. [Listening. ] 'Ere is ze doctares. [DR. KIRKE enters, followed by SIR GEORGE BRODRICK. KIRKE is a shabby, snuff-taking old gentleman--blunt but kind; SIR GEORGE, on thecontrary, is scrupulously neat in his dress, and has a suave, professional manner. FORTUNE withdraws] KIRKE. Good morning, Mr. Winterfield. [To GERTRUDE. ] How do you do, mydear? You're getting some colour into your pretty face, I'm glad tosee. [To SIR GEORGE. ] Mr. Winterfield--Sir George Brodrick. [SIRGEORGE and AMOS shake hands. ] KIRKE. [To SIR GEORGE. ] Mrs. Thorpe. [SIR GEORGE shakes hands withGERTRUDE. ] Sir George and I started life together in London years ago;now he finds me here in Venice. Well we can't all win the race--eh? SIR GEORGE. My dear old friend! [To GERTRUDE. ] Mr Cleeve has beentelling me, Mrs. Thorpe, how exceedingly kind you and your brother havebeen 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 atale-bearer. DR. KIRKE. Well, I've excellent authority for my story of a young womanwho volunteered to share the nursing of an invalid at a time when sheherself stood greatly in need of being nursed. GERTRUDE. Nonsense! [To SIR GEORGE. ] You know, Amos--my big brotherover there--Amos and I struck up an acquaintance with Mr. And Mrs. Cleeve at Florence, at the Hotel d'Italie, and occasionally one of uswould give Mr Cleeve his dose while Poor Mrs. Cleeve took a little restor drive--but positively that's all. DR KIRKE. You don't tell us-- GERTRUDE. I've nothing more to tell, except that I'm awfully fond ofMrs. Cleeve-- AMOS. Oh, if you once get my sister on the subject of Mrs. Cleeve--[Taking up a newspaper. ] GERTRUDE. [To SIR GEORGE. ] Yes, I always say that if I were a mansearching for a wife, I should be inclined to base my ideal on Mrs. Cleeve. SIR GEORGE. [Edging away towards KIRKE, with a surprised uncomfortablesmile. ] Eh? Really? GERTRUDE. You conceive a different ideal, Sir George? SIR GEORGE. Oh--well-- GERTRUDE. Well, Sir George? AMOS. Perhaps Sir George has heard that Mrs. Cleeve holds regrettableopinions on some points. If so, he may feel surprised that a parson'ssister-- GERTRUDE. Oh, I don't share all Mrs. Cleeve's views, or sympathise withthem, of course. But they succeed only in making me sad and sorry. Mrs. Cleeve's opinions don't stop me from loving the gentle, sweet woman;admiring her for her patient, absorbing devotion to her husband;wondering at the beautiful stillness with which she seems to glidethrough life--! AMOS. [Putting down the newspaper, to SIR GEORGE and KIRKE. ] I told youso! [To GERTRUDE. ] Gertrude, I'm sure Sir George and Dr. Kirke want tobe left together for a few minutes. GERTRUDE. [Going up to the window. ] I'll sun myself on the balcony. AMOS. And I'll go and buy some tobacco. [To GERTRUDE. ] Don't be long, Gerty. [Nodding to SIR GEORGE and KIRKE] Good morning. [They return hisnod; and he goes out. ] GERTRUDE. [On the balcony. ] Dr. Kirke, I've heard what doctors'consultations consist of. After looking at the pictures, you talk aboutwhist. [She closes the windows and sits outside. ] KIRKE. [Producing his snuff-box. ] Ha, ha! SIR GEORGE. Why this lady and her brother evidently haven't anysuspicion of the actual truth, my dear Kirke! KIRKE. [Taking snuff. ] Not the slightest. SIR GEORGE. The woman made a point of being extremely explicit withyou, you tell me? KIRKE. Yes, she was plain enough with me. At our first meeting, shesaid: "Doctor, I want you to know so-and-so, and so-and-so, andso-and-so. " SIR GEORGE. Really? Well it certainly isn't fair of Cleeve and his--his associate to trick decent people like Mrs Thorpe and her brother. Good gracious, the brother is a clergyman too! KIRKE. The rector of some dull hole in the north of England. SIR GEORGE. Really! KIRKE. A bachelor; this Mrs Thorpe keeps house for him. She's a widow. SIR GEORGE. Really? KIRKE. Widow of a captain in the army. Poor thing! She's lately losther only child and can't get over it. SIR GEORGE. Indeed, really, really? . . . But about Cleeve, now--hehad Roman fever of rather a severe type? KIRKE. In November. And then that fool of a Bickerstaff at Rome allowedthe woman to move him to Florence too soon, and there he had a relapse. However, when she brought him on here the man was practically well. SIR GEORGE. The difficulty being to convince him of the fact, eh? Ahighly-strung, emotional creature? KIRKE. You've hit him. SIR GEORGE. I've known him from his childhood. Are you still giving himanything? KIRKE. A little quinine, to humour him. SIR GEORGE. Exactly. [Looking at his watch. ] Where is she? Where isshe? I've promised to take my wife shopping in the Merceria thismorning. By the bye, Kirke--I must talk scandal, I find--this israther an odd circumstance. Whom do you think I got a bow from as Ipassed through the hall of the Danieli last night? [Kirke grunts andshakes his head. ] The Duke of St Olpherts. KIRKE. [Taking snuff. ] Ah! I suppose you're in with a lot of swellsnow, Brodrick. SIR GEORGE. No, no; you don't understand me. The Duke is this youngfellow'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 inthe pie. SIR GEORGE. The Duke may be here by mere chance. Still, as you say, itdoes look--[Lowering his voice as KIRKE eyes an opening door. ] Who'sthat? KIRKE. The woman. [AGNES enters. She moves firmly but noiselessly--a placid woman, witha sweet, low voice. Her dress is plain to the verge of coarseness; herface, which has little colour, is, at the first glance almost whollyunattractive. ] AGNES. [Looking from one to the other. ] I thought you would send forme, perhaps. [To SIR GEORGE. ] What do you say about him? KIRKE. One moment. [Pointing to the balcony. ] Mrs. Thorpe-- AGNES. Excuse me. [She goes to the window and opens it. ] GERTRUDE. Oh, Mrs Cleeve! [Entering the room. ] Am I in the way? AGNES. You are never that, my dear. Run along to my room; I'll call youin a minute or two. [GERTRUDE nods, and goes to the door. ] Take off youhat and sit with me for a while. GERTRUDE. I'll stay for a bit, but this hat doesn't take off. [She goesout] AGNES. [To SIR GEORGE and KIRKE. ] Yes? SIR GEORGE. We are glad to be able to give a most favourable report. Imay say that Mr Cleeve has never appeared to be in better health. AGNES. [Drawing a deep breath. ] He will be very much cheered by whatyou say. SIR GEORGE. [Bowing stiffly. ] I'm glad-- AGNES. His illness left him with a morbid, irrational impression thathe would never be his former self again. SIR GEORGE. A nervous man recovering from a scare. I've helped removethat impression I believe. AGNES. Thank you. We have a troublesome, perhaps a hard time before us;we both need all our health and spirits. [Turning her head, listening. ]Lucas? [LUCAS enters the room. He is a handsome, intellectual-looking youngman of about eight-and-twenty. ] LUCAS. [To AGNES, excitedly. ] Have you heard what they say of me? AGNES. [Smiling. ] Yes. LUCAS. How good of you, Sir George, to break up your little holiday forthe sake of an anxious, fidgety fellow. [To Agnes. ] Isn't it? AGNES. Sir George has rendered us a great service. LUCAS. [Going to KIRKE, brightly. ] Yes, and proved how ungrateful I'vebeen to you, doctor. KIRKE. Don't apologise. People who don't know when they're well are themainstay of my profession. [Offering snuff-box. ] Here--[LUCAS takes apinch of snuff, laughingly. ] AGNES. [In a low voice to SIR GEORGE. ] He has been terribly hipped attimes. [Taking up the vase of flowers from the table. ] Your visit willhave made him another man. [She goes to a table, puts down the vaseupon the tray, and commences to cut and arrange the fresh flowers shefinds there. ] LUCAS. [Seeing that AGNES is out of hearing. ] Excuse me, Kirke--justfor one moment. [To SIR GEORGE. ] Sir George--[KIRKE joins AGNES. ] Youstill go frequently to Great Cumberland Place? SIR GEORGE. Your mother's gout has been rather stubborn lately. LUCAS. Very likely she and my brother Sandford will get to hear of yourvisit to me here; in that case you'll be questioned pretty closely, naturally. SIR GEORGE. My position is certainly a little delicate. LUCAS. Oh you may be perfectly open with my people as to my presentmode of life. Only--[He motions SIR GEORGE to be seated; they sitfacing each other. ] Only I want you hear me declare again plainly[looking towards AGNES] that but for the care and devotion of that goodwoman over there, but for the solace of that woman's companionship, Ishould have been dead months ago--I should have died raving in myawful bedroom on the ground floor of that foul Roman hotel. Malarialfever, of course! Doctors don't admit--do they?--that it's possiblefor strong men to die of miserable marriages. And yet I was dying inRome, I truly believe, from my bitter, crushing disappointment, fromthe consciousness of my wretched, irretrievable--[FORTUNE enters, carrying LUCAS' hat, gloves, overcoat, and silk wrap, and upon asalver, a bottle of medicine and a glass. ] LUCAS. [Sharply. ] Qu'y a-t-il, Fortune? FORTUNE. Sir, you have an appointment. LUCAS. [Rising. ] At the Danieli at eleven. Is it so late? [FORTUNEplaces the things upon the table. LUCAS puts the wrap around histhroat; AGNES goes to him and arranges it for him solicitously. ] SIR GEORGE. [Rising. ] I have to meet Lady Brodrick at the Piazzetta. Let me take you in my gondola. LUCAS. Thanks--delighted. AGNES. [To SIR GEORGE. ] I would rather Lucas went in the house gondola;I know its cushions are dry. May he take you to the Piazetta? SIR GEORGE. [A little stiffly. ] Certainly. AGNES. [To FORTUNE. ] Mettez les coussins dans la gondole. FORTUNE. Bien, madame. [FORTUNE goes out. AGNES begins to measure a dose of medicine. ] SIR GEORGE. [To AGNES. ] Er--I--ah-- LUCAS. [Putting on his gloves. ] Agnes, Sir George-- AGNES. [Turning to SIR GEORGE, the bottle and glass in her hands. ] Yes? SIR GEORGE. [Constrainedly. ] We always make a point of acknowledgingthe importance of nursing as an aid to medical treatment. I--I am sureMr. Cleeve owes you much in that respect. AGNES. Thank you. SIR GEORGE. [To LUCAS. ] I have to discharge my gondola; you'll find meat the steps, Cleeve. [AGNES shifts the medicine bottle from one handto the other so that her right hand may be free, but SIR GEORGE simplybows in a formal way and moves towards the door. ] You are coming withus, Kirke? KIRKE. Yes. SIR GEORGE. Do you mind seeing that I'm not robbed by my gondolier? [Hegoes out. ] AGNES. [Giving the medicine to LUCAS, undisturbed. ] Here, dear. KIRKE. [To AGNES. ] May I pop in tonight for my game of chess? AGNES. Do, doctor; I shall be very pleased. KIRKE. [Shaking her hand in a marked way. ] Thank you. [He follows SIRGEORGE. ] AGNES. [Looking after him. ] Liberal little man. [She has LUCAS' overcoat in her hand: a small pen-and-ink drawing of awoman's hand drops from one of the pockets. They pick it up together. ] AGNES. Isn't that the sketch you made of me in Florence? LUCAS. [Replacing it in the coat-pocket. ] Yes. AGNES. You are carrying it about with you? LUCAS. I slipped it into my pocket, thinking it might interest theDuke. AGNES. [Assisting him with his overcoat. ] Surely I am too obnoxious inthe abstract for your uncle to entertain such a detail as a portrait. LUCAS. It struck me that it might serve to correct certain preconceivednotions of my people's. AGNES. Images of a beautiful temptress with peach-blossomed cheeks andstained hair? LUCAS. That's what I mean; they suspect a decline of taste on my part, of that sort. Good-bye, dear. AGNES. Is this mission of the Duke of St Olpherts the final attempt topart us, I wonder? [Angrily, her voice hardening. ] Why should theyharass and disturb you as they do? LUCAS. [Kissing her. ] Nothing disturbs me now that I know I and strongand well. Besides, everybody will soon tire of being shocked. Evenconventional morality must grow breathless in the chase. [He leavesher. She opens the other door and calls. ] AGNES. Mrs. Thorpe! I'm alone now. [She goes on to the balcony, throughthe centre window, and looks down below. GERTRUDE enters, and joins heron the balcony. ] GERTRUDE. How well your husband is looking! AGNES. Sir George Brodrick pronounces him quite recovered. GERTRUDE. Isn't that splendid! [Waving her hand and calling. ] Buongiorno, Signor Cleeve! Come molto meglio voi state! [Leaving thebalcony, laughing. ] Ha, ha! My Italian! [AGNES waves finally to thegondola below, returns to the room, and slips her arm throughGERTRUDE'S. ] AGNES. Two whole days since I've seen you. GERTRUDE. They've been two of my bad days, dear. AGNES. [Looking into her face. ] All right now? GERTRUDE. Oh, "God's in his heaven" this morning! When the sun's out Ifeel that my little boy's bed in Ketherick Cemetery is warm and cosy. AGNES. [Patting GERTRUDE'S hand] Ah!-- GERTRUDE. The weather's the same all over Europe, according to thepapers. Do you think it's really going to last? To me these chilly, showery nights are terrible. You know, I still tuck my child up atnight-time; still have my last peep at him before going to my own bed;and it is awful to listen to these cold rains--drip, drip, upon thatlittle green coverlet of his! [She goes and stands by the windowsilently. ] AGNES. This isn't strong of you, dear Mrs. Thorpe. You mustn't--youmustn't. [AGNES brings the tray with the cut flowers to the nearertable; calmly and methodically she resumes trimming the stalks. ] GETRUDE. You're quite right. That's over. Now, then, I'm going togabble for five minutes gaily. [Settling herself comfortably in anarmchair. ] What jolly flowers you've got there! What have you beendoing with yourself? Amos took me to the Caffe Quadri yesterday to latebreakfast, to cheer me up. Oh, I've something to say to you! At theCaffe, at the next table to ours, there were three English people--twomen and a girl--home from India, I gathered. One of the men waslooking out of the window, quizzing the folks walking in the Piazza, and suddenly he caught sight of your husband. [AGNES' hands pause intheir work. ] "I do believe that's Lucas Cleeve, " he said. And then thegirl had a peep, and said "Certainly it is. " And the man said: "I mustfind out where he's stopping; If Minerva is with him, you must call. ""Who's Minerva?" said the second man. "Minerva is Mrs. Lucas Cleeve, "the girl said, "it's a pet name--he married a chum of mine, a daughterof Sir John Steyning's a year or so after I went out. " Excuse me, dear. Do these people really know you and your husband, or were they talkingnonsense? [AGNES takes the vase of faded flowers, goes onto the balcony, andempties the contents of the vase into the canal. Then she stands by thewindow, her back towards GERTRUDE. ] AGNES. No, they evidently know Mr. Cleeve. GERTRUDE. Your husband never calls you by that pet-name of yours. Whyis it you haven't told me you're a daughter of Admiral Steyning's? AGNES. Mrs Thorpe-- GERTRUDE. [Warmly. ] Oh, I must say what I mean! I have often pulledmyself up short in my gossips with you, conscious of a sort of wallbetween us. [AGNES comes slowly from the window. ] Somehow, I feel nowthat you haven't in the least made a friend of me. I'm hurt. St'sstupid of me; I can't help it. AGNES. [After a moment's pause. ] I am not the lady these people werespeaking of yesterday. 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 everheard my name--Ebbsmith. [GERTRUDE stares at her blankly. ] I beg yourpardon sincerely. I never meant to conceal my true position; such acourse is opposed to every true principle of mind. But I grew soattached to you in Florence and--well, it was contemptibly weak; I'llnever do such a thing again. [She goes back to the table and commencesto refill the vase with the fresh flowers. ] GERTRUDE. When you say that Mr. Cleeve has left his wife, I suppose youmean to tell me that you have taken her place? AGNES. Yes, I mean that. [GERTRUDE rises and walks to the door. ] GERTRUDE [At the door. ] You knew that I could not speak to you afterhearing this? AGNES. I thought it almost certain that you would not. [After a moment's irresolution, GERTRUDE returns, and stands by thesettee. ] GERTRUDE. I can hardly believe you. AGNES. I should like you to hear more than just the bare fact. GETRUDE. [Drumming on the back of the settee. ] Why don't you tell memore? AGNES. You were going, you know. GERTRUDE. [Sitting. ] I won't go quite like that. Please tell me. AGNES. [Calmly. ] Well--did you ever read of John Thorold--"JackThorold, the demagogue?" [GERTRUDE shakes her head. ] I daresay not. John Thorold, once a schoolmaster, was my father. In my time he used towrite for the two or three, so-called, inflammatory journals, and holdforth in small lecture-halls, occasionally even from the top of awooden stool in the Park, upon trade and labour questions, division ofwealth, and the rest of it. He believed in nothing that people who goto church are credited with believing in, Mrs. Thorpe; his scheme forthe readjustment of things was Force; his pet doctrine, the ultimatehealthy healing that follows the surgery of Revolution. But to me hewas the gentlest creature imaginable; and I was very fond of him, inspite of his--as I then thought--strange ideas. Strange ideas! Ha!Many of 'em luckily don't sound quite so irrational today! GERTRUDE. [Under her breath. ] Oh! AGNES. My home was a wretched one. If dad was violent out of the house, mother was violent enough in it; with her it was rage, sulk, storm, from morning till night; till one day father turned a deaf ear tomother and died in his bed. That was my first intimate experience ofthe horrible curse that falls upon so many. GERTRUDE. Curse? AGNES. The curse of unhappy marriage. Though really I'd looked onlittle else all my life. Most of our married friends were cursed in alike way; and I remember taking an oath, when I was a mere child, thatnothing should ever push me over into the choked-up, seething pit. Fool! When I was nineteen I was gazing like a pet sheep into a man'seyes; and one morning I was married, at St. Andrew's Church in Holborn, to Mr. Ebbsmith, a barrister. GERTRUDE. In church? AGNES. Yes, in church--in church. In spite of father's unbelief andmother's indifference, at the time I married I was as simple--ay, inmy heart, as devout--as any girl in a parsonage. The other thinghadn't soaked into me. Whenever I could escape from our stifling roomsat home, and slam the front door behind me, the air blew awayuncertainty and scepticism; I seemed only to have to take a long, deepbreath to be full of hope and faith. And it was like this till that manmarried me. GERTRUDE. Of course, I guess your marriage was an unfortunate one. AGNES. It lasted eight years. For about twelve months he treated melike a woman in a harem, for the rest of the time like a beast ofburden. Oh! When I think of it! [Wiping her brow with herhandkerchief. ] Phew! GERTRUDE. It changed you? AGNES. Oh, yes, it changed me. GERTRUDE. You spoke of yourself just now as a widow. He's dead? AGNES. He died on our wedding day--the eighth anniversary. GERTRUDE. You were free then--free to begin again. AGNES. Eh? [Looking at GERTRUDE. ] Yes; but you don't begin to believeall over again. [She gathers up the stalks of the flowers from thetray, and, kneeling, crams them into the stove. ] However, this is anold story. I'm thirty-three now. GERTRUDE. [Hesitatingly. ] You and Mr. Cleeve--? AGNES. We've known each other since last November--no longer. Sixyears of my life unaccounted for, eh? Well, for a couple of years or soI was lecturing. GERTRUDE. Lecturing? AGNES. Ah, I'd become an out-and-out child of my father by that time--spouting, perhaps you'd call it, standing on the identical littleplatforms he used to speak from, lashing abuses with my tongue as hehad done. Oh, and I was fond, too, of warning women. GERTRUDE. Against what? AGNES. Falling into the pit. GERTRUDE. Marriage? AGNES. The chocked-up, seething pit--until I found my bones almostthrough my skin and my voice too weak to travel across a room. GERTRUDE. From what cause? AGNES. Starvation, my dear. So, after lying in a hospital for a monthor two, I took up nursing for a living. Last November I was sent for byDr. Bickerstaff to go through to Rome to look after a young man who'dbroken down there, and who declined to send for his friends. My patientwas Mr. Cleeve--[taking up the tray]--and that's where his fortunesjoin mine. [She crosses the room, and puts the tray upon the cabinet. ] GERTRUDE. And yet, judging from what that girl said yesterday, Mr. Cleeve married quite recently? AGNES. Less than three years ago. Men don't suffer as patiently aswomen. In many respects his marriage story is my own, reversed--theman in place of the woman. I endured my hell, though; he broke thegates of his. GERTRUDE. I have often seen Mr. Cleeve's name in the papers. His futurepromised to be brilliant, didn't it? AGNES. [Tidying the table, folding the newspapers, &c. ] There's a greatcareer for him still. GERTRUDE. In Parliament--now? AGNES. No, he abandons that, and devotes himself to writing. We shallwrite much together, urging our views on this subject of Marriage. Weshall 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 follyin keeping the truth from you, Mrs. Thorpe, Indeed, it's our great planto live the life we have mapped out for ourselves, fearlessly, openly;faithful to each other, helpful to each other, so long as we remaintogether. GERTRUDE. But tell me--you don't know how I--how I have liked you!--tell me, if Mr. Cleeve's wife divorces him, he will marry you? AGNES. No. GERTRUDE. No! AGNES. No. I haven't made you quite understand--Lucas and I don'tdesire to marry, in your sense. GERTRUDE. But you are devoted to each other! AGNES. Thoroughly. GERTRUDE. What, is that the meaning of "for as long as you aretogether?" You would go your different ways if ever you found that oneof you was making the other unhappy? AGNES. I do mean that. We remain together only to help, to heal, toconsole. Why should men and women be so eager to grant to each otherthe power of wasting life? That is what marriage gives--the right todestroy years and years of life. And the right, once given, it attracts--attracts! We have both suffered from it. So many rich years out of mylife have been squandered by it. And out of his life, so much force, energy--spent in battling with the shrew, the termagant he has nowfled from; strength never to be replenished, never to be repaid--allwasted, wasted! GERTRUDE. Your legal marriage with him might not bring furthermiseries. AGNES. Too late! We have done with marriage; we distrust it. We are notnow among those who regard marriage as indispensable to union. We havedone with it! GERTRUDE. [Advancing to her. ] You know that it would be impossible forme, if I would do so, to deceive my brother as to all this. AGNES. Why, of course, dear. GERTRUDE. [Looking at her watch. ] Amos must be wondering-- AGNES. Run away, then. [GERTRUDE crosses quickly to the door. ] GERTRUDE [Retracing a step or two. ] Shall I see you--? Oh! AGNES. [Shaking her head. ] Ah! GERTRUDE. [Going to her, constrainedly. ] When Amos and I have talkedthis over, perhaps--perhaps-- AGNES. No, I fear not. Come, my dear friend--[with a smile]--give mea shake of the hand. GERTRUDE. [Taking her hand. ] What you've told me is dreadful. [Lookinginto AGNES' face. ] And yet you're not a wicked woman! [Kissing AGNES. ]In case we don't meet again. [The women separate quickly, lookingtowards the door, as LUCAS enters. ] LUCAS. [Shaking hands with GERTRUDE. ] How do you do, Mrs Thorpe? I'vejust had a wave of the hand from your brother. GERTRUDE. Where is he? LUCAS. On his back in a gondola, a pipe in his mouth as usual, gazingskywards. [Going on to the balcony. ] He's within hail. [GERTRUDE goesquickly to the door, followed by AGNES. ] There! By the Palazzo Sforza. [He re-enters the room; GERTRUDE has disappeared. He is going towardsthe door. ] Let me get hold of him, Mrs. Thorpe. AGNES. [Standing before LUCAS, quietly] She knows, Lucas, dear. LUCAS. Does she? AGNES. She overheard some gossip at the Caffe Quadri yesterday, andbegan questioning me; so I told her. LUCAS. [Taking off his coat. ] Adieu to them, then--eh? AGNES. [Assisting him. ] Adieu. LUCAS. I intended to write to the brother directly they had leftVenice, to explain. AGNES. Your describing me as "Mrs. Cleeve" at the hotel in Florencehelped to lead us into this; after we move from here I must always be, frankly, "Mrs. Ebbsmith. " LUCAS. These were decent people. You and she had formed quite anattachment? AGNES. Yes. [She places his coat, &c. On a chair, then fetches her work-basket fromthe cabinet. ] LUCAS. There's something of the man in your nature, Agnes. AGNES. I've anathematised my womanhood often enough. [She sits at thetable, taking out her work composedly. ] LUCAS. Not that every man possesses the power you have acquired--thepower of going through life with compressed lips. AGNES. [Looking up, smiling. ] A propos? LUCAS. These people--this woman you've been so fond of. You see themshrink away with the utmost composure. AGNES. [Threading a needle. ] You forget, dear, that you and I haveprepared ourselves for a good deal of this sort of thing. LUCAS. Certainly, but at the moment-- AGNES. One must take care that the regret lasts no longer than amoment. Have you seen your uncle? LUCAS. A glimpse. He hadn't long risen. AGNES. He adds sluggishness to other vices, then? LUCAS. [Lighting a cigarette. ] He greeted me through six inches of opendoor. His toilet has its mysteries. AGNES. A stormy interview? LUCAS. The reverse. He grasped my hand warmly, declared I looked thepicture of health, and said it was evident I had been most admirablynursed. AGNES. [Frowning. ] That's a strange utterance. But he's an eccentric, isn't he? LUCAS. No man has ever been quite satisfied as to whether his odditiesare ingrained or affected. AGNES. No man. What about women? LUCAS. Ho! They have had opportunities of closer observation. AGNES. Hah! And they report--? LUCAS. Nothing. They become curiously reticent. AGNES. [Scornfully, as she is cutting a thread. ] These noblemen! LUCAS. [Taking a packet of letters from his pocket. ] Finally, hepresented me with these, expressed a hope that he'd see much of meduring the week, and dismissed me with a fervent God bless you! AGNES. [Surprised. ] He remains here, then? LUCAS. It seems so. AGNES. What are those, dear? LUCAS. The Duke has made himself the bearer of some letters, fromfriends. I've only glanced at them: reproaches--appeals-- AGNES. Yes, I understand. [He sits looking through the letters impatiently, then tearing them upand throwing the pieces upon the table. ] LUCAS. Lord Warminster--my godfather: "My dear boy, for God's sake--!"[Tearing up the letter and reading another. ] Sir Charles Littlecote:"Your brilliant future . . . Blasted . . . " [Another letter. ] Lord Froom:"Promise of a useful political career unfulfilled . . . Cannot an oldfriend . . . ?" [Another letter. ] Edith Heytesbury. I didn't notice awoman had honoured me. [In an undertone. ] Edie--![Slipping the letterinto his pocket and opening another. ] Jack Brophy: "Your great career--"Major Leete: "Your career--" [Destroying the rest of the letterswithout reading them. ] My career! my career! That's the chorus, evidently. Well, there goes my career! [She lays her work aside andgoes to him. ] AGNES. Your career? [Pointing to the destroyed letters. ] True that oneis over. But there's the other, you know--ours. LUCAS. [Touching her hand. ] Yes, yes, Still, it's just a littlesaddening, the saying good-bye--[disturbing the scraps of paper]--toall this. AGNES. Saddening, dear? Why, this political career of yours--thinkwhat it would have been at best? Accident of birth sent you to thewrong side of the House; influence of family would always have kept youthere. LUCAS. [Partly to himself. ] But I made my mark. I did make my mark. AGNES. Supporting the Party that retards; the Party that preserves forthe rich, palters with the poor. [Pointing to the letters again. ] Oh, there's not much to mourn for there! LUCAS. Still, it was--success. AGNES. Success! LUCAS. I was talked about, written about, as a Coming Man--the ComingMan! AGNES. How many "coming men" has one known? Where on earth do they allgo to? LUCAS. Ah, yes, but I allowed for the failure, and carefully set myselfto discover the causes of them. And, as I put my fingers upon thecauses and examined them, I congratulated myself and said "Well, Ihaven't that weak point in my armour, or that;" and Agnes, at last Iwas fool enough to imagine I had no weak point, none whatever. AGNES. It was weak enough to believe that. LUCAS. I couldn't foresee that I was doomed to pay the price allnervous men pay for success; that the greater my success became, themore cancer-like grew the fear of never being able to continue it, toexcel it; that the triumph of today was always to be the torture oftomorrow! Oh, Agnes, the agony of success to a nervous, sensitive man;the dismal apprehension that fills his life and gives each victory avoice to cry out "Hear, hear! Bravo, bravo, bravo! But this is to beyour last--you'll never overtop it!" Ha, yes! I soon found out theweak spot in my armour--the need of constant encouragement, constantreminder of my powers; [taking her hand] the need of that subtlesympathy which a sacrificing, unselfish woman alone possesses thesecret of. [Rising. ] Well, my very weakness might have been a source ofgreatness if, three years ago, it had been to such a woman that I hadbound myself--a woman of your disposition; instead of to--! Ah! [Shelays her hand upon his arm soothingly. ] LUCAS. Yes, yes. [Taking her in his arms. ] I know I have such acompanion now. AGNES. Yes--now-- LUCAS. You must be everything to me, Agnes--a double faculty, as itwere. When my confidence in myself is shaken, you must try to keep theconsciousness of my poor powers alive in me. AGNES. I shall not fail you in that, Lucas. LUCAS. And yet, whenever disturbing recollections come uppermost; whenI catch myself mourning for those lost opportunities of mine; it isyour love that must grant me oblivion--[kissing her upon the lips]--your love! [She makes no response, and after a pause gently releasesherself and retreats a step or two. ] LUCAS. [His eyes following her. ] Agnes, you seem to me to be changingtowards me, growing colder to me. At times you seem positively toshrink from me. I don't understand it. Yesterday I thought I saw youlook at me as if I--frightened you! AGNES. Lucas--Lucas dear, for some weeks, now, I've wanted to say thisto you. LUCAS. What? AGNES. Don't you think that such a union as ours would be much braver, much more truly courageous, if it could but be--be-- LUCAS. If it could but be--what? AGNES. [Averting her eyes. ] Devoid of passion, if passion had no sharein it. LUCAS. Surely this comes a little late, Agnes, between you and me. AGNES. [Leaning upon the back of a chair, staring before her andspeaking in a low, steady voice. ] What has been was inevitable, Isuppose. Still, we have hardly yet set foot upon the path we've agreedto follow. It is not too late for us, in our own lives, to pit thehighest interpretation upon that word--Love. Think of the innersustaining power it would give us! [More forcibly. ] We agree to gothrough the world together, preaching the lesson taught us by ourexperiences. We cry out to all people, "Look at us! Man and woman whoare in the bondage of neither law nor ritual! Linked simply by mutualtrust! Man and wife, but something better than man and wife! Friends, but even something better than friends!" I say there is that which isnoble, finely defiant, in the future we have mapped out for ourselves, if only--if only-- LUCAS. Yes? AGNES. [Turning from him. ] If only it could be free from passion! LUCAS. [In a low voice. ] Yes, but--is that possible? AGNES. [In the same tone, watching him askance, a frightened look inher eyes. ] Why not? LUCAS. Young man and woman . . . You and love . . . ? Scarcely uponthis earth, my dear Agnes, such a life as you have pictured. AGNES. I say it can be, it can be--! [FORTUNE enters, carrying a letter upon a salver, and a beautifulbouquet of white flowers. He hands the note to LUCAS. ] LUCAS. [Taking the note, glancing at AGNES. ] Eh! [To FORTUNE, pointingto the bouquet. ] Qu'avez-vous la? FORTUNE. Ah, excuse. [Presenting the bouquet to AGNES. ] Wiz compliment. [AGNES takes the bouquet wonderingly. ] Tell Madame ze Duke of StOlphert bring it in person, 'e says. LUCAS. [Opening the note. ] Est-il parti? FORTUNE. 'E did not get out of 'is gondola. LUCAS. Bien. [FORTUNE withdraws. Reading the note aloud. ] "Whilebrushing my hair, my dear boy, I became possessed of a strong desire tomeet the lady with whom you are now improving the shining hour. Why thedevil shouldn't I, if I want to. Without prejudice, as my lawyer says, let me turn up this afternoon and chat pleasantly to her ofShakespeare, also the musical glasses. Pray hand her this flag of truce--I mean my poor bunch of flowers--and believe me yours, with a touchof gout, ST. OLPHERTS. " [Indignantly crushing the note. ] Ah! AGNES. [Frowning at the flowers. ] A taste of the oddities, I suppose? LUCAS. He is simply making sport of us. [Going on to the balcony, andlooking out. ] There he is. Damn that smile of his! AGNES. Where? [She joins him. ] LUCAS. With the two gondoliers. AGNES. Why--that's a beautiful face! How strange! LUCAS. [Drawing her back into the room. ] Come away. He is looking up atus. AGNES. Are you sure he sees us? LUCAS. He did. AGNES. He will want an answer--[She deliberately flings the bouquetover the balcony into the canal, then returns to the table and picks upher work. ] LUCAS. [Looking out again cautiously. ] He throws his head back andlaughs heartily. [Re-entering the room. ] Oh, of course, his policy isto attempt to laugh me out of my resolves. They send him here merely tolaugh at me, Agnes, to laugh at me--[coming to AGNES angrily. ] laughat me! AGNES. He must be a man of small resources. [Threading her needle. ] Itis so easy to mock. END OF THE FIRST ACT THE SECOND ACT The Scene is the same as that of the previous Act. Through the windowssome mastheads and flapping sails are seen in the distance. The lightis that of late afternoon. AGNES, very plainly dressed, is sitting at the table, industriouslycopying from a manuscript. After a moment or two, ANTONIO and NELLAenter the room, carrying a dressmaker's box, which is corded andlabelled. NELLA. E permess, Signora (Permit us, Signora. ) ANTONIO. Uno scatolone per la Signora (Am enormous box for theSignora. ) AGNES. [Turning her head. ] Eh? NELLA. E venuto colla ferrovia--(It has come by the railway--) ANTONIO. [consulting the label. ] Da'Firenze. (From Florence. ) AGNES. By railway, from Florence? NELLA [Reading from the label. ] "Emilia Bardini, Via Rondinelli. " AGNES. Bardini? That's the dressmaker. There must be some mistake. None per me, Nella. (It isn't for me, Nella. ) [ANTONIO and NELLA carry the box to her animatedly. ] NELLA. Ma guardi, Signora! (But look, Signora!) ANTONIO. Alla Signora Cleeve! NELLA. E poi abbiamo pagato il porto della ferrovia. (Besides, we havepaid the railway dues upon it. ) AGNES. [Collecting her sheets of paper. ] Hush, hush! Don't trouble mejust now. Mettez-la n'importe ou. [They place the box upon anothertable. ] NELLA. La corda intaccherebbe la forbice della Signora. Vuole cheAntonio la tagli. (The cord would blunt the Signora's scissors. ShallAntonio cut the cord?) AGNES. [Pinning her sheets of paper together. ] I'll see about it byeand bye. Laissez-moi! NELLA. [Softly to ANTONIO. ] Taglia, taglia! (Cut, cut!) [ANTONIO cutsthe cord, whereupon NELLA utters a little scream. ] AGNES. [Turning, startled. ] What is it? NELLA. [Pushing ANTONIO away. ] Questo stupido non ha caoito la Signorae ha tagliata la corda. (The stupid fellow misunderstood the Signora, and has severed the cord. ) AGNES. [Rising. ] It doesn't matter. Be quiet! NELLA. [Removing the lid from the box angrily. ] Ed ecco la scatolaaperta contro voglia della Signora! (And now here is the box openagainst the Signora's wish) [Inquisitively pushing aside the paperwhich covers the contents of the box. ] O Dio! Si vede tutto quel che vie! (O God! And all the contents exposed!) [When the paper is removed, some beautiful material trimmed with lace, &c. , is seen. ] NELLA. Guardi, guardi, Signora! (Signora, look, look!) [AGNES examinesthe contents of the box with a puzzled air. ] Oh, che bellezza! (Howbeautiful!) ANTONIO. [To NELLA. ] Il padrone. (The master. ) [NELLA curtsies toLUCAS, then withdraws with ANTONIO. ] AGNES. Lucas, the dressmaker in the Via Rondinelli at Florence--thewoman who ran up the little gown I have on now-- LUCAS. [With a smile] What of her? AGNES. This has just come from her. Phuh! What does she mean by sendingthat showy thing to me? LUCAS. It is my gift to you. AGNES. [Producing enough of the contents of the box to reveal a veryhandsome dress. ] This! LUCAS. I knew Bardini had your measurements; I wrote to her, instructing her to make that. I remember Lady Heytesbury in somethingsimilar last season. AGNES. [Examining the dress. ] A mere strap for the sleeve, andsufficiently decolletee, I should imagine. LUCAS. My dear Agnes, I can't understand your reason fro trying to makeyourself a plain-looking woman when nature intended you for a prettyone. AGNES. Pretty! LUCAS. [Looking hard at her. ] You are pretty. AGNES. Oh, as a girl I may have been--[disdainfully]--pretty. Whatgood did it do anybody? [Fingering the dress with aversion. ] And whenwould you have me hang this on my bones? LUCAS. Oh, when we are dining, or-- AGNES. Dining in a public place? LUCAS. Why not look your best in a public place? AGNES. Look my best? You know, I don't think of this sort of garment inconnection with our companionship, Lucas. LUCAS. It is not an extraordinary garment for a lady. AGNES. Rustle of silk, glare of arms and throat--they belong, to mymind, to such a very different order of things from that we have setup. LUCAS. Shall I appear before you in ill-made clothes, clumsy boots-- AGNES. Why? We are just as we have always been, since we've beentogether. I don't tell you that your appearance is beginning to offend. LUCAS. Offend! Agnes, you--you pain me. I simply fail to understandwhy you should allow our mode of life to condemn you to perpetualslovenliness. AGNES. Slovenliness! LUCAS. No, no, shabbiness. AGNES. [Looking down upon the dress she is wearing. ] Shabbiness! LUCAS. [With a laugh. ] Forgive me, dear; I'm forgetting you are wearinga comparatively new afternoon-gown. AGNES. At any rate, I'll make this brighter tomorrow with sometrimmings willingly. [Pointing to the dressmaker's box. ] Then you won'tinsist on my decking myself out in rags of that kind--eh! There'ssomething in the idea--I needn't explain. LUCAS. [Fretfully. ] Insist! I'll not urge you again. [Pointing to thebox. ] Get rid of it somehow. Are you copying that manuscript of mine? AGNES. I had just finished it. LUCAS. Already! [Taking up her copy. ] How beautifully you write! [Goingto her eagerly. ] What do you think of my Essay? AGNES. It bristles with truth; it is vital. LUCAS. My method of treating it? AGNES. Hardly a word out of place. LUCAS [Chilled. ] Hardly a word? AGNES. Not a word, in fact. LUCAS. No, dear, I daresay your "hardly" is nearer the mark. AGNES. I assure you it is brilliant, Lucas. LUCAS. What a wretch I am ever to find the smallest fault in you! Shallwe dine out tonight? AGNES. As you wish, dear. LUCAS. At the Grunwald? [He goes to the table to pick up hismanuscript; when his back is turned she looks at her watch quickly. ]We'll solemnly toast this, shall we, in Montefiascone? AGNES. [Eyeing him askance. ] You are going out for your chocolate thisafternoon as usual, I suppose? LUCAS. Yes, but I'll look through your copy first, so that I can slipit into the post at once. You are not coming out? AGNES. Not till dinner-time. LUCAS. [Kissing her on the forehead. ] I talked over the points of this--[tapping the manuscript]--with a man this morning; he praised someof the phrases warmly. AGNES. A man? [In an altered tone. ] The Duke? LUCAS. Er--yes. AGNES. [With assumed indifference, replacing the lid on thedressmaker's box. ] You have seen him again today, then? LUCAS. We strolled about together for half an hour on the Piazza. AGNES. [Replacing the cord round the box. ] You--you don't dislike himas much as you did? LUCAS. He's someone to chat to. I suppose one gets accustomed even to aman one dislikes. AGNES. [Almost inaudibly. ] I suppose so. LUCAS. As a matter of fact, he has the reputation of being rather apleasant companion; though I--I confess--I--I don't find him veryentertaining. [He goes out. She stands staring at the door throughwhich he has disappeared. There is a knock at the opposite door. ] AGNES. [Rousing herself. ] Fortune! [Raising her voice. ] Fortune! [Thedoor opens, and GERTRUDE enters hurriedly. ] GERTRUDE. Fortune is complacently smoking a cigarette in the Campo. AGNES. Mrs. Thorpe! GERTRUDE. [Breathlessly. ] Mr Cleeve is out, I conclude? AGNES. No. He is later than usual going out this afternoon. GERTRUDE. [Irresolutely. ] I don't think I'll wait, then. AGNES. But do tell me: you have been crossing the streets to avoid meduring the past week; what has made you come to see me now? GERTRUDE. I would come. I've given poor Amos the slip; he believes I ambuying beads for the Ketherick school-children. AGNES. [Shaking her head. ] Ah, Mrs. Thorpe!-- GERTRUDE. Of course, it's perfectly brutal to be underhanded. But we'releaving for home tomorrow; I couldn't resist it. AGNES. [Coldly. ] Perhaps I'm very ungracious-- GERTRUDE. [Taking AGNES' hand. ] The fact is, Mrs. Cleeve--oh, what doyou wish me to call you? AGNES. [Withdrawing her hand. ] Well--you're off tomorrow. Agnes willdo. GETRUDE. Thank you. The fact is, it's been a bad week with me--restless, fanciful. And I haven't been able to get you out of my head. AGNES. I'm sorry. GERTRUDE. Your story, your present life; you, yourself--such acontradiction to what you profess! Well, it all has a sort offascination for me. AGNES. My dear, you're simply not sleeping again. [Turning away. ] You'dbetter go back to the ammonia Kirke prescribed for you. GERTRUDE. [Taking a card from her purse, with a little, light laugh. ]You want to physic me, do you, after worrying my poor brain as you'vedone? [Going to her. ] "The Rectory, Daleham, Ketherick Moor. "Yorkshire, you know. There can be no great harm in your writing to mesometimes. AGNES [Refusing the card. ] No; under the circumstances I can't promisethat. GERTRUDE. [Wistfully. ] Very well. AGNES. [Facing her. ] Oh, can't you understand that it can only be--disturbing to both of us for an impulsive, emotional creature likeyourself to keep up acquaintanceship with a woman who takes life as Ido? We'll drop each other, leave each other alone. [She walks away, andstands leaning upon the stove, her back towards GERTRUDE. ] GERTRUDE. [Replacing the card in her purse. ] As you please. Picture me, sometimes, in that big, hollow shell of a rectory at Ketherick, strolling about my poor dead little chap's empty room. AGNES. [Under her breath. ] Oh! GERTRUDE. [Turning to go. ] God bless you. AGNES. Gertrude! [With altered manner. ] You--you have the trick ofmaking me lonely also. [Going to GERTRUDE, taking her hands andfondling them. ] I'm tired of talking to the walls! And your blood iswarm to me! Shall I tell you, or not--or not? GERTRUDE. Do tell me. AGNES. There is a man here, in Venice, who is torturing me--flaying mealive. GERTRUDE. Torturing you? AGNES. He came here about a week ago; he is trying to separate us. GERTRUDE. You and Mr. Cleeve? AGNES. Yes. GERTRUDE. You are afraid he will succeed? AGNES. Succeed! What nonsense you talk! GERTRUDE. What upsets you, then? AGNES. After all, it's difficult to explain--the feeling is soindefinite. It's like--something in the air. This man is influencingus both oddly. Lucas is as near illness again as possible; I can hearhis nerves vibrating. And I--you know what a fish-like thing I am as arule--just look at me now, as I'm speaking to you. GERTRUDE. But don't you and Mr. Cleeve--talk to each other? AGNES. As children do when the lights are put out--of everything butwhat'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 herbrow with her handkerchief. ] AGNES. I tell you, that idea's--preposterous. GERTRUDE. Oh, I can't understand you. AGNES. You'll respect my confidence? GERTRUDE. Agnes! AGNES. [Sitting. ] Well, I fancy this man's presence here has simplystarted me thinking of a time--oh, it may never come!--a time when Imay cease to be--necessary to Mr. Cleeve. Do you understand? GERTRUDE. I remember what you told me of your being prepared to granteach other freedom if-- AGNES. Yes, yes; and for the past few days this idea has filled me witha fear of the most humiliating kind. GERTRUDE. What fear? AGNES. The fear lest, after all my beliefs and protestations, I shouldeventually find myself loving Lucas in the helpless, common way ofwomen-- GERTRUDE. [Under her breath. ] I see. AGNES. The dread that the moment may arrive some day when should it berequired of me, I shan't feel myself able to give him up easily. [Herhead drooping, uttering a low moan. ] Oh!-- [LUCAS, dressed for going out, enters, carrying AGNES'S copy of hismanuscript, rolled and addressed for the post. AGNES rises. ] AGNES. [To LUCAS. ] Mrs. Thorpe starts for home tomorrow; she has calledto say good-bye. LUCAS. [To GERTRUDE. ] It is very kind. Is your brother quite well? GERTRUDE. [Embarrassed. ] Thanks: quite. LUCAS. [Smiling. ] I believe I have added to his experience of theobscure corners of Venice during the past week. GERTRUDE. I--I don't--Why? LUCAS. By so frequently putting him to the inconvenience of avoidingme. GERTRUDE. Oh, Mr. Cleeve, we--I--I-- LUCAS. Please tell your brother that I asked after him. GERTRUDE. I--I can't; he--doesn't know I've--I've-- LUCAS. Ah! Really? [With a bow. ] Good-bye. [He goes out, AGNESaccompanying him to the door. ] GERTRUDE. [To herself. ] Brute! [To AGNES. ] Oh, I suppose Mr. Cleeve hasmade me look precisely as I feel. AGNES. How? GERTRUDE. Like people deserve to feel who do godly, mean things. [FORTUNE appears. ] FORTUNE. [To AGNES, significantly. ] Mr. Cleeve 'as jus' gone out. AGNES. Vous savez, n'est-ce pas? FORTUNE. [Glancing at GERTRUDE. ] But Madame is now engage. GERTRUDE. [To AGNES. ] Oh, I am going. AGNES. [To GERTRUDE. ] Wait. [Softly to her. ] I want you to hear thislittle comedy. Fortune shall repeat my instructions. [To FORTUNE. ] Lesordres que je vous ai donnes, repetez-les. FORTUNE. [Speaking in an undertone. ] On ze left 'and side of ze Campo-- AGNES. Non, non--tout haut. FORTUNE. [Aloud, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. ] On ze left 'andside of ze Campo-- AGNES. Yes. FORTUNE. In one of ze doorways between Fiorentini's and ze leetlelamp-shop--ze--ze--h'm--ze person. AGNES. Precisely. Depechez-vous. [FORTUNE bows and retires. ] Fortuneflatters himself he is engaged in some horrid intrigue. You guess whomI am expecting? GERTRUDE. The Duke? AGNES. [Ringing a bell. ] I've written to him asking him to call upon methis afternoon while Lucas is at Florian's. [Referring to her watch. ]He is to kick his heels about the Campo till I let him know I am alone. GERTRUDE. Will he obey you? AGNES. A week ago he was curious to see the sort of animal I am. If heholds off now, I'll hit upon some other plan. I will come to closequarters with him, if only for five minutes. GERTRUDE. Good-bye. [They embrace, then walk together to the door. ] Youstill refuse my address? AGNES. You bat! Didn't you see me make a note of it? GERTRUDE. You! AGNES. [Her hand on her heart. ] Here. GERTRUDE. [Gratefully. ] Ah! [She goes out. ] AGNES. [At the open door. ] Gertrude! GERTRUDE. [Outside. ] Yes? AGNES. [In a low voice. ] Remember, in my thoughts I pace thatlonely little room of yours with you. [As if to stop GERTRUDE fromre-entering. ] Hush! No, no. [She closes the door sharply. NELLAappears. ] AGNES. [Pointing to the box on the table. ] Portez ce carton dans machambre. NELLA. [Trying to peep into the box as she carries it. ] Signora, seElla si mettesse questo magnifico abito! Oh! Quanto sarebbe piu bella!(Signora, if you were to wear this magnificent dress, oh how much morebeautiful you would be!) AGNES. Sssh! Sssh! [NELLA goes out. FORTUNE enters. ] Eh, bien? [FORTUNE glances over his shoulder. The DUKE OF ST. OLPHERTS enters;the wreck of a very handsome man, with delicate features, a polishedmanner, and a smooth, weary voice. He limps, walking with the aid of acane. FORTUNE retires. ] AGNES. Duke of St. Olpherts? ST. OLPHERTS. [Bowing. ] Mrs. Ebbsmith? AGNES. Mr. Cleeve would have opposed this rather out-of-the-wayproceeding of mine. He doesn't know I have asked you to call on metoday. ST. OLPHERTS. So I conclude. It gives our meeting a pleasant air ofadventure. 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'tstand. [Sitting. ] Your Grace is a man who takes life lightly. It willrelieve you to hear that I wish to keep sentiment out of any businesswe have together. ST. OLPHERTS. I believe I haven't the reputation of being a sentimentalman. [Seating himself. ] You send for me, Mrs. Ebbsmith-- AGNES. To tell you I have come to regard the suggestion you were goodenough to make a week ago-- ST. OLPHERTS. Suggestion? AGNES. Shakespeare, the musical glasses, you know-- ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, yes. Ha! Ha! AGNES. I've come to think it a reasonable one. At the moment Iconsidered it a gross impertinence. ST. OLPHERTS. Written requests are so dependent on a sympatheticreader. AGNES. That meeting might have saved you time and trouble. ST. OLPHERTS. I grudge neither. AGNES. It might perhaps have shown your Grace that your view of life istoo narrow; that your method of dealing with its problems wantsvariety; that, in point of fact, your employment upon your presentmission is distinctly inappropriate. Our meeting today may serve thesame purpose. ST. OLPHERTS. My view of life? AGNES. That all men and women may safely be judged by the standards ofthe casino and the dancing-garden. ST. OLPHERTS. I have found those standards not altogetheruntrustworthy. My method--? AGNES. To scoff, to sneer, to ridicule. ST. OLPHERTS. Ah! And how much is there, my dear Mrs. Ebbsmith, belonging to humanity that survives being laughed at? AGNES. More than you credit, Duke. For example, I--I think it possibleyou may not succeed in grinning away the compact between Mr. Cleeve andmyself? ST. OLPHERTS. Compact? AGNES. Between serious man and woman. ST. OLPHERTS. Serious woman. AGNES. Ah! At least you must see that--serious woman. [Rising, facinghim. ] You can't fail to realise, even from this slight personalknowledge of me, that you are not dealing just now with some poor, feeble ballet-girl. ST. OLPHERTS. But how well you put it! [Rising. ] And how frank of youto furnish, as it were, a plan of the fortifications to the--the-- AGNES. Why do you stick at "enemy"? ST. OLPHERTS. It's not the word. Opponent! For the moment, perhaps, opponent. I am never an enemy, I hope, where your sex is concerned. AGNES. No, I am aware that you are not over-nice in the bestowal ofyour patronage--where my sex is concerned. ST. OLPHERTS. You regard my appearance in an affair of morals as aquaint one? AGNES. Your Grace is beginning to know me. ST. OLPHERTS. Dear lady, you take pride, I hear, in belonging to--ThePeople. You would delight me amazingly by giving me an inkling of thepopular notion of my career. AGNES. [Walking away. ] Excuse me. ST. OLPHERTS. [Following her. ] Please! It would be instructive, perhapschastening. I entreat. AGNES. No. ST OLPHERTS. You are letting sentiment intrude itself. [Sitting, inpain. ] I challenge you. AGNES. At Eton you were curiously precocious. The head-master, referring to your aptitude with books, prophesied a brilliant futurefor you; your tutor, alarmed by your attachment to a certain cottage atAscot which was minus a host, thanked his stars to be rid of you. AtOxford you closed all books, except, of course, betting-books. ST. OLPHERTS. I detected the tendency of the age--scholarship for themasses. I considered it my turn to be merely intuitively intelligent. AGNES. You left Oxford a gambler and a spendthrift. A year or two intown established you as an amiable, undisguised debauchee. The rest ismodern history. ST. OLPHERTS. Complete your sketch. Don't stop at the--rude outline. AGNES. Your affairs falling into disorder, you promptly married awealthy woman--the poor, rich lady who has for some years honoured youby being your duchess at a distance. This burlesque of a marriagehelped to reassure your friends, and actually obtained for you anornamental appointment for which an over-taxed nation provides ahandsome stipend. But, to sum up, you must always remain an irritatingsource of uneasiness to your own order, as, luckily, you will always bea sharp-edged weapon in the hands of mine. ST. OLPHERTS. [With a polite smile. ] Yours! Ah, to that small, unrulysection to which I understand you particularly attach yourself. Tothe-- AGNES. [With changed manner, flashing eyes, harsh voice, and violentgestures. ] The sufferers, the toilers; that great crowd of old andyoung--old and young stamped by excessive labour and privation all ofone pattern--whose backs bend under burdens, whose bones ache and growawry, whose skins, in youth and in age, are wrinkled and yellow; thosefrom whom a fair share of the earth's space and of the light of day iswithheld. [Looking down at him fiercely. ] The half-starved who arebidden to stand with their feet in the kennel to watch gay processionsin which you and your kind are borne high. Those who would strip therobes from a dummy aristocracy and cast the broken dolls into the limboof a nation's discarded toys. Those who--mark me!--are already uponthe highway, marching, marching; whose time is coming as surely asyours is going! ST. OLPHERTS. [Clapping his hands gently. ] Bravo! Bravo! Really a flashof the old fire. Admirable! [She walks away to the window with animpatient exclamation. ] Your present affaire du coeur does not whollyabsorb you, then, Mrs. Ebbsmith. Even now the murmurings of love havenot entirely superseded the thunderous denunciations of--h'm--Youonce bore a nickname, my dear. AGNES. [Turning sharply. ] Ho! So you've heard that, have you? ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, yes. AGNES. Mad--Agnes? [He bows deprecatingly. ] We appear to have studiedeach other's history pretty closely. ST. OLPHERTS. Dear lady, this is not the first time the same roof hascovered us. AGNES. No? ST. OLPHERTS. Five years ago, on a broiling night in July, I joined aparty of men who made an excursion from a club-house in St James'sStreet to the unsavoury district of St. Luke's. AGNES. Oh, yes. ST. OLPHERTS. A depressin' building; the Iron Hall, BarkerStreet--no--Carter Street. AGNES. Precisely. ST. OLPHERTS. We took our places amongst a handful of frowsy folks whocracked nuts and blasphemed. On the platform stood a gaunt, white-facedyoung lady resolutely engaged in making up by extravagance of gesturefor the deficiencies of an exhausted voice. "There, " said one of mycompanions, "that is the notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith. " Upon which a personnear us, whom I judged from his air of leaden laziness to be a Britishworking man, blurted out, "Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith! Mad Agnes! That'sthe name her sanguinary friends give her--Mad Agnes!" At that momentthe eye of the panting oratress caught mine for an instant, and you andI first met. AGNES. [Passing her hand across her brow, thoughtfully. ]Mad--Agnes . . . [To him, with a grim smile. ] We have both beencriticised, in our time, pretty sharply, eh, Duke? ST. OLPHERTS. Yes. Let that reflection make you more charitable to apoor peer. [A knock at the door. ] AGNES. Entrez! [FORTUNE and ANTONIO enter, ANTONIO carrying tea, &c. , upon a tray. ] AGNES. [To ST. OLPHERTS. ] You drink tea--fellow sufferer? [Hesignifies assent. FORTUNE places the tray on the table, then withdrawswith ANTONIO. AGNES pours out tea. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [Producing a little box from his waistcoat pocket. ] Nomilk, dear lady. And may I be allowed--saccharine? [She hands him hiscup of tea; their eyes meet. ] AGNES. [Scornfully. ] Tell me now--really--why do the Cleeves send arip like you to do their serious work? ST. OLPHERTS. [Laughing heartily. ] Ha, ha, ha! Rip! ha, ha! Poor solemnfamily! Oh, set a thief to catch a thief, you know. That, I presume, istheir motive. AGNES. [Pausing in the act of pouring out, and staring at him. ] What doyou mean? ST OLPHERTS. [Sipping his tea. ] Set a thief to catch a thief. And bydeduction, set one sensualist--who, after all, doesn't take thetrouble to deceive himself--to rescue another who does. AGNES. If I understand you, that is an insinuation against Mr. Cleeve. ST. OLPHERTS. Insinuation!-- AGNES. [Looking at him fixedly. ] Make yourself clearer. ST. OLPHERTS. You have accused me, Mrs. Ebbsmith, of narrowness ofoutlook. In the present instance, dear lady, it is your judgement whichis at fault. AGNES. Mine? ST. OLPHERTS. It is not I who fall into the error of confounding youwith the designing danseuse of commerce; it is, strangely enough, youwho have failed in your estimate of Mr. Lucas Cleeve. AGNES. What is my estimate? ST. OLPHERTS. I pay you the compliment of believing that you havelooked upon my nephew as a talented young gentleman whose future wasseriously threatened by domestic disorder; a young man of a certaincourage and independence, with a share of the brain and spirit of thoseterrible human pests called reformers; the one gentleman, in fact, mostlikely to aid you in advancing your vivacious social and politicaltenets. 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? AGNES. Well--what is the real Lucas Cleeve? ST OLPHERTS. Poor dear fellow! I'll tell you. [Going to the table todeposit his cup there; while she watches him, her hand tightly clasped, a frightened look in her eyes. ] The real Lucas Cleeve. [Coming back toher. ] An egoist. An egoist. AGNES. An egoist, Yes. ST. OLPHERTS. Possessing ambition without patience, self-esteem withoutself-confidence. AGNES. Well? ST. OLPHERTS. Afflicted with a desperate craving for the opium-likedrug, adulation; persistently seeking the society of those whose white, pink-tipped fingers fill the pernicious pipe most deftly anddelicately. Eh? AGNES. I didn't--Pray, go on. ST. OLPHERTS. Ha! I remember they looked to his marriage to check hisdangerous fancy for the flutter of lace, the purr of pretty women. Andnow, here, he is--loose again. AGNES. [Suffering. ] Oh!-- ST. OLPHERTS. In short, in intellect still nothing but a callow boy; inbody, nervous, bloodless, hysterical; in morals--an epicure. AGNES. Have done! Have done! ST. OLPHERTS. "Epicure" offends you. A vain woman would findconsolation in the word. AGNES. Enough of it! Enough! Enough! [She turns away, beating her handstogether. The light in the room has gradually become subdued; the warmtinge 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 silentfor a moment. ] The Duke of St. Olpherts calls in answer to a letter Iwrote to him yesterday. I wanted to make his acquaintance. [She goesout. ] LUCAS. [After a brief pause. ] By a lucky accident the tables werecrowded at Florian's; I might have missed the chance of welcoming you. In God's name, Duke, why must you come here? ST. OLPHERTS. [Fumbling in his pocket for a note. ] In God's name? Youbring the orthodoxy into this queer firm, then, Lucas? [Handing thenote to LUCAS. ] A peremptory summons. LUCAS. You need not have obeyed it. [ST. OLPHERTS takes a cigarettefrom his case and limps away. ] I looked about for you just now. Iwanted to see you. ST. OLPHERTS. How fortunate-- LUCAS. To tell you that this persecution must come to an end. It hasmade me desperately wretched for a whole week. ST. OLPHERTS. Persecution? LUCAS. Temptation. ST. OLPHERTS. Dear Lucas, the process of inducing a man to return tohis wife isn't generally described as temptation. LUCAS. Ah, I won't hear another word of that proposal. [ST. OLPHERTSshrugs his shoulders. ] I say my people are offering me, through you, adeliberate temptation to be a traitor. To which of these two women--mywife or--[pointing to the door]--to her--am I really bound now? Itmay be regrettable, scandalous, but the common rules of right and wronghave ceased to apply here. Finally, Duke--and this is my message--Iintend to keep faith with the woman who sat by my bedside in Rome, thewoman to whom I shouted my miserable story in my delirium, the womanwhose calm, resolute voice healed me, hardened me, renewed in me thedesire to live. ST. OLPHERTS. Ah! Oh, these modern nurses, in their greys, or browns, and snowy bibs! They have much to answer for, dear Lucas. LUCAS. No, no! Why will you persist, all of you, in regarding this as amere morbid infatuation, bred in the fumes of pastilles? It isn't so!Laugh, if you care to; but this is a meeting of affinities, of thesolitary man and the truly sympathetic woman. ST. OLPHERTS. And oh--oh these sympathetic women! LUCAS. No! Oh, the unsympathetic women! There you have the cause ofhalf the world's misery. The unsympathetic women--you should haveloved one of them. ST. OLPHERTS. I dare say I've done that in my time. LUCAS. Love one of these women--I know!--worship here, yield yourselfto the intoxicating day-dreams that make the grimy world sweeter thanany heaven ever imagined. How you heart leaps with gratitude for yourgood fortune! How compassionately you regard your unblest fellow men!What may you not accomplish with such a mate beside you; how high willbe your aims, how paltry every obstacle that bars your way to them; howsweet is to be the labour, how divine the rest! Then--you marry her. Marry her, and in six months, if you've pluck enough to do it, lagbehind your shooting party and blow your brains out, by accident, atthe edge of a turnip-field. You have found out by that time all thatthere is to look for--the daily diminishing interest in your doings, the poorly assumed attention as you attempt to talk over some plan forthe future; then the yawn, and by degrees, the covert sneer, the littlesarcasm, and finally, the frank, open stare of boredom. Ah, Duke, whenyou all carry out your repressive legislation against women of evillives, don't fail to include in your schedule the Unsympathetic Wives. They are the women whose victims show the sorriest scars; they are thereally "bad women" of the world: all the others are snow-white incomparison! ST. OLPHERTS. Yes, you've got a good deal of this in that capital Essayyou quoted from this morning. Dear fellow, I admit your homediscomforts; but to jump out of the frying pan into this confounded--what does she call it?--compact! LUCAS. Compact? ST. OLPHERTS. A vague reference, as I understand, to your joint crusadeagainst the blessed institution of Marriage. LUCAS. [An alteration in his manner. ] Oh--ho, that idea! What--whathas she been saying to you? ST. OLPHERTS. Incidentally she pitched into me, dear Lucas; sheattacked my moral character. You must have been telling tales. LUCAS. Oh, I--I hope not. Of course, we-- ST. OLPHERTS. Yes, yes--a little family gossip, to pass the time whileshe has been dressing her hair or--By the bye, she doesn't appear tospend much time in dressing her hair. LUCAS. [Biting his lip. ] Really? ST. OLPHERTS. Then she denounced the gilded aristocracy generally. Ourday is over; we're broken wooden dolls, and are going to be chucked. The old tune; but I enjoyed the novelty of being so near theinstrument. I assure you, dear fellow, I was within three feet of herwhen she deliberately Trafalgar Squared me. LUCAS. [With an uneasy laugh. ] You're the red rag, Duke. This spirit ofrevolt in her--it's ludicrously extravagant; but it will die out intime, when she has become used to being happy and cared for--[partlyto himself, with clenched hands]--yes, cared for. ST. OLPHERTS. Die out? Bred in the bone, dear Lucas. LUCAS. On some topics she's a mere echo of her father, if you meanthat? ST. OLPHERTS. The father--one of those public park vermin, eh? LUCAS. Dead years ago. ST. OLPHERTS. I once heard her bellowing in a dirty little shed in St. Luke's. I told you? LUCAS. Yes, you've told me. ST. OLPHERTS. I sat there again, it seemed, this afternoon. The oratornot quite so lean, perhaps--a little less witch-like; but-- LUCAS. She was actually in want of food in those days! Poor girl![Partly to himself. ] I mean to remind myself of that constantly. Poorgirl! ST. OLPHERTS. Girl! Let me see--you're considerably her junior? LUCAS. No, no; a few months, perhaps. ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, come! LUCAS. Well, years--two or three. ST. OLPHERTS. The voice remains rather raucous. LUCAS. By God, the voice is sweet! ST. OLPHERTS. Well--considering the wear and tear. Really, my dearfellow, I do believe this--I do believe that if you gowned herrespectably-- LUCAS. [Impulsively. ] Yes, yes, I say so. I tell her that. ST. OLPHERTS. [With a smile. ] Do you? That's odd, now. LUCAS. What a topic. Poor Agnes's dress! ST. OLPHERTS. Your taste used to be rather aesthetic. Even your ownwife is one of the smartest women in London. LUCAS. Ha, well I must contrive to smother these aesthetic tastes ofmine. ST. OLPHERTS. It's a pity that other people will retain their sense ofthe incongruous. LUCAS. [Snapping his fingers. ] Other people!-- ST. OLPHERTS. The public. LUCAS. The public? ST. OLPHERTS. Come, you know well enough that unostentatiousimmodesty is no part of your partner's programme. Of course, youwill find yourself by-and-bye in a sort of perpetual parade withyour 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 soiledbanner of Free Union. Free Union for the People! Ho, my dear Lucas! LUCAS. Good heavens, Duke, do you imagine, now that I am in soundhealth and mind again, that I don't see the hideous absurdity of theseviews of hers? ST. OLPHERTS. Then why the deuce don't you listen a little morepatiently to my views? LUCAS. No, no. I tell you I intend to keep faith with her, as far as Iam able. She's so earnest, so pitiably earnest. If I broke faith withher entirely, it would be too damnably cowardly. ST. OLPHERTS. Cowardly! LUCAS. [Pacing the room agitatedly. ] Besides, we shall do welltogether, after all, I believe--she and I. In the end we shall makeconcessions to each other and settle down, somewhere abroad, peacefully. ST. OLPHERTS. Ha! And they called you a Coming Man at one time, didn'tthey? LUCAS. Oh, I--I shall make as fine a career with my pen as that othercareer would have been. At any rate, I ask you to leave me to it all--to leave me! [FORTUNE enters. The shades of evening have now deepened; the glow ofsunset comes into the room. ] FORTUNE. I beg your pardon, sir. LUCAS. Well? FORTUNE. It is pas' ze time for you to dress for dinner. LUCAS. I'll come. [FORTUNE goes out. ] ST. OLPHERTS. When do we next meet, dear fellow? LUCAS. No, no--please not again. [Nella enters, excitedly. ] NELLA [ Speaking over her shoulder. ] Si, Signora; ecco il Signore. (Yes, Signora; her is the Signor. ) [To Cleeve. ] Scusi, Signore. Quandola vendra come e cara--! (Pardon, Signor, when you see her you'll seehow 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 fashionof 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. Sheappears to be a beautiful woman. ] AGNES. [To Nella. ] Un petit chale noir tricote--cher-chez-le. [Nellawithdraws. ] Ah, you're not dressed, Lucas dear. LUCAS. What--what time is it? [He goes towards the door, still staringat AGNES. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [Looking at her, and speaking in an altered tone. ] I fearmy gossiping has delayed him. You--you dine out? AGNES. At the Grunwald. Why don't you join us? [Turning to Lucas, lightly. ] Persuade him, Lucas. [LUCAS pauses at the door. ] ST. OLPHERTS. Er--impossible. Some--friends of mine may arrivetonight. [Lucas goes out. ] I am more than sorry. AGNES. [Mockingly. ] Really? You are sure you are not shy of being seenwith a notorious woman? ST. OLPHERTS. My dear Mrs. Ebbsmith--! AGNES. No, I forget--that would be unlike you. Mad people scare you, perhaps? ST. OLPHERTS. Ha, ha! Don't be too rough. AGNES. Come, Duke, confess--isn't there more sanity in me than yoususpected? ST. OLPHERTS. [In a low voice, eyeing her. ] Much more. I think you arevery clever. [LUCAS quietly re-enters the room; he halts upon seeing that ST. OLPHERTS still lingers. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [With a wave of the hand to LUCAS. ] Just off, dearfellow. [He offers his hand to AGNES; she quickly places hers behindher back. ] You--you are charming. [He walks to the door, then looksround at the pair. ] Au'voir! [ST. OLPHERTS goes out. ] AGNES. Au'voir! [Her hand drooping suddenly, her voice hard and dull. ]You had better take me to Fulici's before we dine, and buy me somegloves. LUCAS. [Coming to her, and seizing her hand. ] Agnes dear! AGNES. [Releasing herself and sitting with a heavy, almost sullen, lookupon her face. ] Are you satisfied? LUCAS. [By her side. ] You have delighted me! How sweet you look-- AGNES. Ah--! LUCAS. You shall have twenty new gowns now; you shall see the womenenvying you, the men envying me. Ah, ha! Fifty new gowns! You will wearthem? AGNES. Yes. LUCAS. Why, what has brought about this change in you? AGNES. What! LUCAS. What? AGNES. I know. LUCAS. You know? AGNES. Exactly how you regard me. LUCAS. I don't understand you. AGNES. Listen. Long ago, in Florence, I began to suspect that we hadmade a mistake, Lucas. Even there I began to suspect that your naturewas not one to allow you to go through life sternly, severely, lookingupon 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 myselfbelieve that this companionship of ours would gradually become, in asense, colder--more temperate, more impassive. [Beating her brow. ]Never! never! Oh, a few minutes ago this man, who means to part us ifhe can, drew your character, disposition, in a dozen words. LUCAS. You believe him! You credit what he says of me! AGNES. I declared it to be untrue. Oh, but-- LUCAS. But--but-- AGNES. [Rising, seizing his arm. ] The picture he paints of you is notwholly a false one. Sssh! Lucas. Hark! Attend to me! I resign myself toit all! Dear, I must resign myself to it! LUCAS. Resign yourself? Has life with me become so distasteful? AGNES. Has it? Think! Why, when I realised the actual terms of ourcompanionship--why didn't I go on my own way stoically? Why don't I goat this very moment? LUCAS. You really love me, do you mean--as simple, tender women arecontent to love? [She looks at him, nods slowly, then turns away anddroops over the table. He raises her, and takes her in his arms. ] Mydear girl! My dear, cold, warm-hearted girl! Ha! You couldn't bear tosee me packed up in one of the Duke's travelling boxes and borne backto London--eh! [She shakes her head; her lips form the word "No". ] Nofear of that, my--my sweetheart! AGNES. [Gently pushing him from her. ] Quick--dress--take me out. LUCAS. You are shivering--get your thickest wrap. AGNES. That heavy brown cloak of mine? LUCAS. Yes. AGNES. It's an old friend, but--dreadfully shabby. You will be ashamedof me again. LUCAS. Ashamed--! AGNES. I'll write to Bardini about a new one tomorrow. I won't opposeyou--I won't repel you any more. LUCAS. Repel me! I only urged you to reveal yourself as what you are--a beautiful woman. AGNES. Ah! Am I--that? LUCAS. [Kissing her. ] Beautiful--beautiful! AGNES. [With a gesture of abandonment. ] I'm--glad. [She leaves him andgoes out. He looks after her for a moment thoughtfully, then suddenlypasses his hands across his brow and opens his arms widely as ifcasting a burden from him. ] LUCAS. Oh!--oh! [Turning away alertly. ] Fortune-- END OF THE SECOND ACT THE THIRD ACT [The Scene is the same as before, but it is evening, and the lamps arelighted within the room, while outside it is bright moonlight. ] [AGNES, dressed as at the end of the preceding Act, is lying upon thesettee propped up by pillows. A pretty silk shawl, with which she playsrestlessly, is over her shoulders. Her face is pale, but her eyesglitter, and her voice has a bright ring in it. KIRKE is seated at atable writing. GERTRUDE, without hat or mantle, is standing behind thesettee, looking down smilingly upon AGNES. ] KIRKE. [Writing. ] H'm--[To AGNES. ] Are you often guilty of this sortof thing? AGNES. [Laughing. ] I've never fainted before in my life; I don't meanto do so again. KIRKE. [Writing. ] Should you alter your mind about that, do select asuitable spot on the next occasion. What was it your head came against? GERTRUDE. A wooden chest, Mr. Cleeve thinks. AGNES. With beautiful, rusty, iron clamps. [Putting her hand to herhead, and addressing GERTRUDE. ] The price of vanity. KIRKE. Vanity? AGNES. Lucas was to take me out to dinner. While I was waiting for himto dress I must needs stand and survey my full length in a mirror. KIRKE. [Glancing at her. ] A very excusable proceeding. AGNES. Suddenly the room sank and left me--so the feeling was--in theair. KIRKE. Well, most women can manage to look in their pier-glasseswithout swooning--eh, Mrs Thorpe? GERTRUDE. [Smiling. ] How should I know doctor? KIRKE. [Blotting his writing. ] There. How goes the time? GERTRUDE. Half past eight. KIRKE. I'll leave this prescription at Mantovani's myself. I can get itmade up to-night. AGNES. [Taking the prescription out of his hand playfully. ] Let melook. KIRKE. [Protesting. ] Now, now! AGNES. [Reading the prescription. ] Ha, ha! After all, what humbugsdoctors are! KIRKE. You've never heard me deny it. AGNES. [Returning the prescription to him. ] But I'll swallow it--forthe dignity of my old profession. [She reaches out her hand to take acigarette. ] KIRKE. Don't smoke too many of those things. AGNES. They never harm me. It's a survival of the time in my life whenthe cupboard was always empty. [Striking a match. ] Only it had to bestronger tobacco in those days, I can tell you. [She lights hercigarette. GERTRUDE is assisting KIRKE with his overcoat. LUCAS enters, in evening dress, looking younger, almost boyish. ] LUCAS. [Brightly. ] Well? KIRKE. She's to have a cup of good bouillon--Mrs. Thorpe is going tolook after that--and anything else she fancies. She's alright. [Shaking hands with AGNES. ] The excitement of putting on that prettyfrock--[AGNES gives a hard little laugh. Shaking hands with LUCAS. ]I'll look in tomorrow. [Turning to GERTRUDE. ] Oh, just a word with you, nurse. [LUCAS has been bending over AGNES affectionately; he now sitsby her, and they talk in undertones; he lights a cigarette from hers. ] KIRKE. [To GERTRUDE. ] There's many a true word, et cetera. GERTRUDE. Excitement? KIRKE. Yes, and that smart gown's connected with it too. GERTRUDE. It is extraordinary to see her like this. KIRKE. Not the same woman. GERTRUDE. No, nor is he quite the same man. KIRKE. How long can you remain with her? GERTRUDE. Till eleven--if you will let my brother know where I am. KIRKE. What, doesn't he know? GERTRUDE. I simply sent word, about an hour ago, that I shouldn't beback to dinner. KIRKE. Very well. GERTRUDE. Look here! I'll get you to tell him the truth. KIRKE. The truth--oh? GERTRUDE. I called here this afternoon, unknown to Amos, to bid hergood-bye. Then I pottered about, rather miserably, spending money. Coming out of Naya's, the photographer's, I tumbled over Mr. Cleeve, who had been looking for you, and he begged me to come round here againafter I had done my shopping. KIRKE. I understand. GERTRUDE. Doctor, have you ever seen Amos look dreadfully stern andknit about the brows--like a bishop who is put out? KIRKE. No. GERTRUDE. Then you will. KIRKE. Well, this is a pretty task--! [He goes out. GERTRUDE comes toAGNES. LUCAS rises. ] GERTRUDE. I am going down into the kitchen to see what these people cando in the way of strong soup. LUCAS. You are exceedingly good to us, Mrs. Thorpe. I can't tell youhow ashamed I am of my bearishness this afternoon. GERTRUDE. [Arranging the shawl about AGNES'S shoulders. ] Hush, please! AGNES. Are you looking at my shawl? Lucas brought it in with him, as areward for my coming out of that stupid faint. I--I have alwaysrefused to be--spoilt in this way, but now--now-- LUCAS. [Breaking in deliberately. ] Pretty work upon it, is there not, Mrs. Thorpe? GERTRUDE. Charming. [Going to the door, which LUCAS opens for her. ]Thank you. [She passes out. AGNES rises. ] LUCAS. Oh, my dear girl--! AGNES. [Throwing her cigarette under the stove. ] I'm quite myselfagain, Lucas dear. Watch me--look! [Walking firmly. ] LUCAS. No trembling? AGNES. Not a flutter. [Watching her open hand. ] My hand is absolutelysteady. [He takes her hand and kisses it upon the palm. ] Ah!-- LUCAS. [Looking at her hand. ] No, it is shaking. AGNES. Yes, when you--when you--oh, Lucas!--[She sinks into a chair, turning her back upon him, and covering her face with her hands; hershoulders heaving. ] LUCAS. [Going to her. ] Agnes dear! AGNES. [Taking out her handkerchief. ] Let me--let me-- LUCAS. [Bending over her. ] I've never seen you-- AGNES. No, I've never been a crying woman. But some great change hasbefallen me, I believe. What is it? That swoon--it wasn't merefaintness, giddiness; it was this change coming over me! LUCAS. You are not unhappy? AGNES. [Wiping her eyes. ] No, I--I don't think I am. Isn't thatstrange? LUCAS. My dearest, I'm happy to hear you say that, for you've made mevery happy. AGNES. Because I-- LUCAS. Because you love me--naturally, that's one great reason. AGNES. I have always loved you. LUCAS. But never so utterly, so absorbingly, as you confess you do now. Do you fully realise what your confession does? It strikes off theshackles from me, from us--sets us free. [With a gesture of freedom. ]Oh, my dear Agnes, free! AGNES. [Staring at him. ] Free? LUCAS. Free from the burden of that crazy plan of ours of trumpetingour relations to the world. Forgive me--crazy is the only word for it. Thank heaven, we've at last admitted to each other that we're ordinaryman and woman! Of course, I was ill--off my head. I didn't know what Iwas entering upon. And you, dear--living a pleasureless life, lettingyour thoughts dwell constantly on old troubles; that is how cranks aremade. Now that I'm strong again, body and mind, I can protect you, keepyou right. Ha, ha! What were we to pose as? Examples of independentthought and action! [Laughing. ] Oh my darling, well be independent inthought and action still; but we won't make examples of ourselves--eh? AGNES. [Who has been watching him with wide-open eyes. ] Do you meanthat all idea of our writing together, working together, defending ourposition, and the position of such as ourselves, before the world, isto be abandoned? LUCAS. Why, of course. AGNES. I--I didn't mean quite that. LUCAS. Oh, come, come! We'll furl what my uncle calls the banner ofFree Union finally. [Going to her and kissing her hair lightly. ] Forthe future, mere man and woman. [Pacing the room excitedly. ] Thefuture! I've settled everything already. The work shall fall wholly onmy shoulders. My poor girl, you shall enjoy a little rest and pleasure. AGNES. [In a low voice. ] Rest and pleasure-- LUCAS. We'll remain abroad. One can live unobserved abroad, withoutactually hiding. [She rises slowly. ] We'll find an ideal retreat. Nomore English tourists prying around us! And there, in some beautifulspot, alone except for your company, I'll work! [As he paces the room, she walks slowly to and fro, listening, staring before her. ] I'll work. My new career! I'll write under a nom de plume. My books, Agnes, shallnever ride to popularity on the back of a scandal. Our life! Themornings I must spend by myself, of course, shut up in my room. In theafternoon we will walk together. After dinner you shall hear what I'vewritten in the morning; and then a few turns round our pretty garden, aglance at the stars with my arms round your waist--[she stopsabruptly, a look of horror on her face]--while you whisper to me wordsof tenderness, words of--[There is the distant sound of music frommandolin and guitar. ] Ah! [To AGNES. ] Keep your shawl over yourshoulders. [Opening the window, and stepping out; the music becominglouder. ] Some mandolinisti in a gondola. [Listening at the window, hishead turned from her. ] How pretty, Agnes! Now, don't those mere sounds, in such surroundings, give you a sensation of hatred for revolt andturmoil! Don't they conjure up alluringly pictures of peace andpleasure, of golden days and star-lit nights--pictures of beauty andlove? AGNES. [Sitting on the settee, staring before her, speaking toherself. ] My marriage--the early days of my marriage--all over again! LUCAS. [Turning to her. ] Eh? [Closing the window and coming to her, asthe music dies away. ] Tell me that those sounds thrill you. AGNES. Lucas-- LUCAS. [Sitting beside her. ] Yes? AGNES. For the first few months of my marriage--[Breaking off abruptlyand looking into his face wonderingly. ] Why, how young you seem to havebecome; you look quite boyish! LUCAS. [Laughing. ] I believe that this return of our senses will makeus both young again. AGNES. Both? [With a little shudder. ] You know, I'm older than you. LUCAS. Tsch! AGNES. [Passing her hand through his hair. ] Yes, I shall feel that now. [Stroking his brow tenderly. ] Well--so it has come to this. LUCAS. I declare that you have colour in your cheeks already. AGNES. The return of my senses? LUCAS. My dear Agnes, we've both been to the verge of madness, you andI--driven there by our troubles. [Taking her hand. ] Let us agree, inso many words, that we have completely recovered. Shall we? AGNES. Perhaps mine is a more obstinate case. My enemies called me madyears ago. LUCAS. [With a wave of the hand. ] Ah, but the future, the future. Nomore thoughts of reforming unequal laws from public platforms, no moreshrieking in obscure magazines. No more beating of bare knucklesagainst stone walls. Come, say it! AGNES. [With an effort. ] Go on. LUCAS. [Looking before him--partly to himself, his voice hardening. ]I'll never be mad again--never. [Thrusting his head back. ] By heavens![To her, in an altered tone. ] You don't say it. AGNES. [After a pause. ] I--I will never be mad again. LUCAS. [Triumphantly. ] Hah! ha, ha! [She deliberately removes the shawlfrom her shoulders, and, putting her arms round his neck, draws him toher. ] Ah, my dear girl! AGNES. [In a whisper, with her head on his breast. ] Lucas. LUCAS. Yes? AGNES. Isn't this madness? LUCAS. I don't think so. AGNES. Oh! oh! oh! I believe, to be a woman is to be mad. LUCAS. No, to be a woman trying not to be a woman--that is to be mad. [She draws a long, deep breath, then, sitting away from him, resumesher shawl mechanically. ] AGNES. Now, you promised me to run out to the Capello Nero to get alittle food. LUCAS. Oh, I'd rather-- AGNES. [Rising. ] Dearest, you need it. LUCAS. [Rising. ] Well--Fortune shall fetch my hat and coat. AGNES. Fortune! Are you going to take all my work from me? [She iswalking towards the door; the sound of his voice stops her. ] LUCAS. Agnes! [She returns. ] A thousand thoughts have rushed through mybrain this last hour or two. I've been thinking--my wife-- AGNES. Yes? LUCAS. My wife--she will soon get tired of her present position. If, by-and-bye, there should be a divorce, there would be nothing toprevent our marrying. AGNES. Our--marrying! LUCAS. [Sitting, not looking at her, as if discussing the matter withhimself. ] It might be to my advantage to settle again in London someday. After all, scandals quickly lose their keen edge. What would yousay? AGNES. Marriage-- LUCAS. Ah, remember, we're rational beings for the future. However, weneedn't talk about it now. AGNES. No. LUCAS. Still, I assume you wouldn't oppose it. You would marry me if Iwished it? AGNES. [in a low voice. ] Yes. LUCAS. That's a sensible girl! By Jove, I am hungry! [He lights acigarette as she walks slowly to the door, then throws himself idlyback on the settee. ] AGNES. [To herself, in a whisper. ] My old life--my old life coming allover again! [She goes out. He lies watching the wreaths of tobaccosmoke. After a moment or two FORTUNE enters, closing the door carefullybehind 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. ] LUCAS. Priez Monsieur le Duc d'entrer. [FORTUNE goes to the door and opens it. The DUKE OF ST. OLPHERTSenters; he is in evening dress. FORTUNE retires. ] ST. OLPHERTS. Quite alone? LUCAS. For the moment. ST. OLPHERTS. My excuse to Mrs. Ebbsmith for not dining at the Grunwald--it was a perfectly legitimate one, dear Lucas. I really was expectingvisitors. LUCAS. [Wonderingly. ] Yes? ST. OLPHERTS. [With a little cough and a drawn face. ] Oh, I am not sowell tonight. Damn these people for troubling me! Damn 'em for keepingme hopping about! Damn 'em for every shoot I feel in my leg. Visitorsfrom England--they've arrived. LUCAS. But what--? ST. OLPHERTS. I shall die of gout some day, Lucas. Er--your wife ishere. LUCAS. Sybil! ST. OLPHERTS. She's come through with your brother. Sandford's a worseprig than ever--and I'm in shockin' pain. LUCAS. This--this is your doing? ST. OLPHERTS. Yes. Damn you, don't keep me standing! [AGNES enters with LUCAS'S hat and coat. She stops abruptly on seeingST. OLPHERTS. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [By the settee--playfully, through his pain] Ah, my dearMrs. Ebbsmith, how can you have the heart to deceive an invalid, a poorwretch who begs you--[sitting on the settee] to allow him to sit downfor a moment? [AGNES deposits the hat and coat. ] AGNES. Deceive--? ST. OLPHERTS. My friends arrive, I dine scrappily with them, and hurryto the Grunwald thinking to catch you over your Zabajone. Dear lady, you haven't been near the Grunwald. AGNES. Your women faint sometimes, don't they? ST. OLPHERTS. My--? [In pain. ] Oh, what do you mean? 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 smalldecanter of wine, and accessories. She looks at ST. OLPHERTSunconcernedly, then turns away and places the tray on a table. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [Quietly to AGNES. ] Not a servant? AGNES, Oh, no. ST. OLPHERTS. [Rising promptly. ] Good God! I beg your pardon. A friend? AGNES. Yes. ST. OLPHERTS. [Looking at GERTRUDE, critically. ] Very nice. [Stilllooking at GERTRUDE, but speaking to AGNES in undertones. ] Marriedor--? [Turning to AGNES. ] Married or--? GERTRUDE. [To LUCAS, looking around. ] It is draughty at this table. LUCAS. [Going to the table near the settee, and collecting the writingmaterials. ] Here--[AGNES joins GERTRUDE. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [Quietly to LUCAS. ] Lucas--[LUCAS goes to him. ] Who'sthat gal? LUCAS. [To ST. OLPHERTS. ] An hotel acquaintance we made in Florence--Mrs Thorpe. ST. OLPHERTS. Where's the husband? LUCAS. A widow. ST. OLPHERTS. You might--[GERTRUDE advances with the tray. ] LUCAS. Mrs. Thorpe, the Duke of St. Olpherts wishes to be introduced toyou. [GERTRUDE inclines her head to the DUKE. LUCAS places the writingmaterials on another table. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [Limping up to GERTRUDE and handling the tray. ] I beg tobe allowed to help you. [At the table. ] The tray here? GERTRUDE. Thank you. ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, how clumsy I am! We think it so gracious of you tolook after our poor friend here who is not quite herself today. [ToAGNES. ] Come along, dear lady--everything is prepared for you. [ToGERTRUDE. ] You are here with--your mother, I understand. GERTRUDE. My brother. ST. OLPHERTS. Brother. Now do tell me whether you find your--yourlittle hotel comfortable. GERTRUDE. [Looking at him steadily. ] We don't stay at one. ST. OLPHERTS. Apartments? GERTRUDE. Yes. ST. OLPHERTS. Do you know, dear Mrs. Thorpe, I have always had the verystrongest desire to live in lodgings in Venice? GERTRUDE. You should gratify it. Our quarters are rather humble; we arein the Campo San Bartolomeo. ST. OLPHERTS. But how delightful! GERTRUDE. Why not come and see our rooms? ST. OLPHERTS. [Bowing. ] My dear young lady! [Producing a pencil andwriting upon his shirt-cuff. ] Campo San Bartolomeo-- GERTRUDE. Five--four--nought--two ST. OLPHERTS. [Writing. ] Five--four--nought--two. Tomorrowafternoon? [She inclines her head. ] Four o'clock? GERTRUDE. Yes; that would give the people ample time to tidy and clearup after us. ST. OLPHERTS. After you--? GERTRUDE. After our departure. My brother and I leave early tomorrowmorning. ST. OLPHERTS. [After a brief pause, imperturbably. ] A thousand thanks. May I impose myself so far upon you as to ask you to tell your landlordto expect me? [Taking up his hat and stick. ] We are allowing this soupto get cold. [Joining LUCAS. ] Dear Lucas, you have something to say tome--? LUCAS. [Opening the door. ] Come into my room. [They go out. The twowomen look at each other significantly. ] AGNES. You're a splendid woman. GERTRUDE. That's rather a bad man, I think. Now, dear--[She placesAGNES on the settee, and sets the soup, &c. , before her. AGNES eats. ] GERTRUDE. [Watching her closely. ] So you have succeeded in coming toclose quarters, as you expressed it, with him. AGNES. [Taciturnly. ] Yes. GERTRUDE. His second visit here today, I gather. AGNES. Yes. GERTRUDE. His attitude towards you--his presence here under anycircumstances--it's all rather queer. AGNES. His code of behaviour is peculiarly his own. GERTRUDE. However, you are easier in your mind? AGNES. [Quietly, but with intensity. ] I shall defeat him. I shalldefeat him. GERTRUDE. Defeat him? You will succeed in holding Mr. Cleeve, you mean? AGNES. Oh, if you put it in that way-- GERTRUDE. Oh, come, I remember all you told me this afternoon. [Withdisdain. ] So it has already arrived, then, at a simple struggle to holdMr. Cleeve? [There is a pause. AGNES, without answering, stretches out her hand tothe wine. Her hand shakes--she withdraws it helplessly. ] GERTRUDE. What do you want--wine? [AGNES nods. GERTRUDE pours out wine and gives her the glass. AGNESdrains it eagerly and replaces it. ] GERTRUDE. Agnes-- AGNES. Yes? GERTRUDE. You are dressed very beautifully. AGNES. Do you think so? GERTRUDE. Don't you know it? Who made you that gown? AGNES. Bardini. GERTRUDE. I shouldn't have credited the little woman with suchexcellent ideas. AGNES. Oh, Lucas gave her the idea when he--when he-- GERTRUDE. When he ordered it? AGNES. Yes. GERTRUDE. Oh, the whole thing came as a surprise to you? AGNES. Er--quite. GERTRUDE. I noticed the box this afternoon when I called. AGNES. Mr. Cleeve wishes me to appear more like--more like-- GERTRUDE. An ordinary smart woman. [Contemptuously. ] Well, you ought tofind no difficulty in managing that. You can make yourself verycharming, it appears. [AGNES again reaches out a hand towards the wine. GERTRUDE pours a verylittle wine into the wine-glass and takes up the glass; AGNES holds outher hand to receive it. ] GERTRUDE. Do you mind my drinking from your glass? AGNES. [Staring at her. ] No. [GERTRUDE empties the glass and then places it, in a marked way, on theside of the table farthest from AGNES. ] GERTRUDE. [With a little shudder. ] Ugh! Ugh! [AGNES moves away fromGERTRUDE, to the end of the settee, her head bowed, her handsclenched. ] 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 outthings. Miles and miles of wild moorland! For company, purple heath andmoss-covered granite, in summer; in winter, the moor-fowl and the snowglistening on top of the crags. Oh, and for open-air music, our littlechurch owns the sweetest little peal of bells--! [AGNES rises, disturbed. ] Ah, I can't promise you their silence! Indeed, I'm verymuch afraid that on a still Sunday you can even hear the sound of theorgan quite a long distance off. I am the organist when I'm at home. That's Ketherick. Will you come? [The distant tinkling of mandolin andguitar is again heard. ] AGNES. Listen to that. The mandolinisti! You talk of the sound of yourchurch organ, and I hear his music. GERTRUDE. His music? AGNES. The music he is fond of; the music that gives him the thoughtsthat please him, soothe him. GERTRUDE. [Listening--humming the words of the air, contemptuously:"Bell'amore deh! Porgi l'orecchio, ad un canto che parte delcuore . . . "] Love-music! AGNES. [In a low voice, staring upon the ground. ] Yes, love music. [The door leading from LUCAS'S room opens, and ST. OLPHERTS and LUCASare heard talking. GERTRUDE hastily goes out. KUCAS enters; theboyishness of manner has left him--he is pale and excited. ] AGNES. What is the matter? LUCAS. My wife is revealing quite a novel phase of character. AGNES. Your wife--? LUCAS. The submissive mood. It's right that you should be told, Agnes. She is here, at the Danieli, with my brother Sandford. [ST. OLPHERTSenters slowly. ] Yes, positively! It appears that she has lent herselfto a scheme of Sandford's--[glancing at ST. OLPHERTS]--and of--and-- ST. OLPHERTS. Of Sandford's. LUCAS. [To AGNES. ] A plan of reconciliation. [To ST. OLPHERTS. ] TellSybil that the submissive mood comes too late, by a year or so! [Hepaces to and fro. AGNES sits, with an expressionless face. ] AGNES. [Quietly, to ST. OLPHERTS. ] The "friends" you were expecting, Duke? ST. OLPHERTS. [Meekly. ] Yes. [She smiles at him scornfully. ] 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 fromme 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, dearLucas, for a moment or two? LUCAS. No, no; pray excuse me. [He goes out. ST. OLPHERTS advances toAGNES. The sound of the music dies away. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [Slipping his coat off and throwing it upon the head ofthe settee. ] Upon my soul, I think you've routed us! AGNES. Yes. ST. OLPHERTS. [Sitting, breaking into a laugh. ] Ha, ha! he, he, he! SirSandford and Mrs. Cleeve will be so angry. Such a devil of a journeyfor nothing! Ho! [Coughing. ] Ho, ho, ho! AGNES. This was to be your grand coup. ST. OLPHERTS. I admit it--I have been keeping this in reserve. AGNES. I see. A further term of cat-and-dog life for Lucas and thislady--but it would have served to dispose of me, you fondly imagined. I see. ST. OLPHERTS. I knew your hold on him was weakening. [She looks athim. ] You knew it too. [She looks away. ] He was beginning to find outthat a dowdy demagogue is not the cheeriest person to live with. Irepeat, you're a dooced clever woman, my dear. [She rises, with animpatient shake of her body, and walks past him, he following her withhis eyes. ] And a handsome one, into the bargain. AGNES. Tsch! ST. OLPHERTS. Tell me, when did you make up your mind to transformyourself? AGNES. Suddenly, after our interview this afternoon; after what yousaid-- ST. OLPHERTS. Oh--! AGNES. [With a little shiver. ] An impulse. ST. OLPHERTS. Impulse doesn't account for the possession of thosegorgeous trappings. AGNES. These rags? A surprise gift from Lucas, today. ST. OLPHERTS. Really, my dear, I believe I've helped to bring about myown defeat. [Laughing softly. ] Ho, ho, ho! How disgusted the Cleevefamily will be! Ha, ha! [Testily. ] Come, why don't you smile--laugh?You can afford to do so! Show your pretty white teeth! Laugh! AGNES. [Hysterically. ] Ha, ha, ha! Ha! ST. OLPHERTS. That's better! [Pushing the cigarette-box towards him, she takes a cigarette and places it between her lips. He also takes acigarette gaily. They smoke--she standing, with an elbow resting uponthe top of the stove, looking down upon him. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [As he lights his cigarette. ] This isn't explosive, Ihope? No nitric and sulphuric acid, with glycerine--eh? [Eyeing herwonderingly and admiringly. ] By jove! Which is you--the shabby, shapeless rebel who entertained me this afternoon or--[kissing thetips of his fingers to her]--or that? AGNES. This--this. [Seating herself, slowly and thoughtfully, facingthe stove, her back turned to him. ] My sex has found me out. ST. OLPHERTS. Ha! tsch! [Between his teeth. ] Damn it, for your sake Ialmost wish Lucas was a different sort of feller! AGNES. [Partly to herself, with intensity. ] Nothing matters now--noteven that. He's mine. He would have died but for me. I gave him life. He is my child, my husband, my lover, my bread, my daylight--all--everything. Mine! Mine! ST. OLPHERTS. [Rising and limping over to her. ] Good luck, my girl. AGNES. Thanks! ST. OLPHERTS. I'm rather sorry for you. This sort of triumph isshort-lived, you know. AGNES. [Turning to him. ] I know. But I shall fight for every momentthat prolongs it. This is my hour. ST. OLPHERTS. Your hour--? AGNES. There's only one hour in a woman's life. ST. OLPHERTS. One--? AGNES. One supreme hour. Her poor life is like the arch of a crescent;so many years lead up to that hour, so many weary years decline fromit. No matter what she may strive for, there is a moment whenCircumstance taps her upon the shoulder and says "Woman, this hour isthe best that Earth has to spare you. " It may come to her in calm or intemper, lighted by a steady radiance or by the glitter of evil stars;but however it comes, be it good or evil, it is her hour--let herdwell upon every second of it! ST. OLPHERTS. And this little victory of yours--the possession of thisman; you think this is the best that Earth can spare you? [She nodsslowly and deliberately, with fixed eyes. ] Dear me, how amusin' youwomen are! And in your dowdy days you had ambitions? [She looks at himsuddenly. ] They were of a queer, gunpowder-and-faggot sort--but theywere ambitions. AGNES. [Starting up. ] Oh--! [Putting her hands to her brows. ] Oh--![Facing him. ] Yes, yes! You're right! Once, long ago, I hoped that myhour would be very different from this. Ambitions! I have seen myself, standing, humbly-clad, looking down upon a dense, swaying crowd--ascarlet flag for my background. I have seen the responsive look uponthousands of white, eager, hungry faces, and I've heard the greathoarse shout of welcome as I have seized my flag and hurried downamongst the people--to be given a place among their leaders! I! Withthe leaders, the leaders! Yes, that is what I once hoped would be myhour! [Her voice sinking. ] But this is my hour. ST. OLPHERTS. Well, my dear, when it's over, you'll have thesatisfaction of counting the departing footsteps of a ruined man. AGNES. Ruined--! ST. OLPHERTS. Yes, there's great compensation in that--for women. AGNES. [Sitting. ] Why do you suggest he'll be ruined through me?[Uneasily. ] At any rate, he'd ended his old career before we met. ST. OLPHERTS. Pardon me; it's not now too late for him to resume thatcareer. The threads are not quite broken yet. AGNES. Oh, the scandal in London-- ST. OLPHERTS. Would be dispelled by this sham reconciliation with hiswife. AGNES. [Looking at him. ] Sham--? ST. OLPHERTS. Why, of course. All we desired to arrange was that forthe future their household should be conducted strictly a la mode. AGNES. A la mode? ST. OLPHERTS. [Behind the settee, looking down upon her. ] Mr. Cleeve inone quarter of the house, Mrs. Cleeve in another. AGNES. Oh, yes. ST. OLPHERTS. A proper aspect to the world, combined with freedom onboth sides. It's a more decorous system than the aggressive Free Unionyou once advocated; and it's much in vogue at my end of town. AGNES. Your plan was a little more subtle than I gave you credit for. This was to be your method of getting rid of me! ST. OLPHERTS. No, no. Don't you understand? With regard to yourself, wecould have arrived at a compromise. AGNES. A compromise? ST. OLPHERTS. It would have made us quite happy to see you placed upona--upon a somewhat different footing. AGNES. What kind of--footing? ST. OLPHERTS. The suburban villa, the little garden, a couple ofdiscreet servants--everything a la mode. [There is a brief pause. The she rises and walks across the room, outwardly calm but twisting her hands. ] AGNES. Well, you've had Mr. Cleeve's answer to that. ST. OLPHERTS. Yes. AGNES. Which finally disposes of the whole matter--disposes of it-- ST. OLPHERTS. Completely. [Struck by an idea. ] Unless you-- AGNES. [Turning to him. ] Unless I-- ST. OLPHERTS. Unless you-- AGNES. [After a moment's pause. ] What did Lucas say to you when you--? ST. OLPHERTS. He said he knew you'd never make that sacrifice for him. [She pulls herself up rigidly. ] So he declined to pain you by askingyou to do it. AGNES. [Crossing swiftly to the settee, and speaking straight into hisface. ] That's a lie! ST. OLPHERTS. Keep your temper, my dear. AGNES. [Passionately. ] His love may not last--it won't!--but at thismoment he loves me better than that! He wouldn't make a mere lightthing of me! ST. OLPHERTS. Wouldn't he? You try him! AGNES. What! ST. OLPHERTS. You put him to the test! AGNES. [With her hands to her brows. ] Oh--! ST. OLPHERTS. No, no--don't! AGNES. [Faintly. ] Why? ST. OLPHERTS. I like you. Damn him--you deserve to live your hour! [LUCAS enters with a letter in his hand. AGNES sits. ] LUCAS. [Giving ST. OLPHERTS the letter. ] Thanks. [St. OLPHERTS pocketsthe letter and picks up his cloak, LUCAS assisting him. ] AGNES. [Outwardly calm. ] Oh--Lucas-- LUCAS. Yes? AGNES. The Duke has been--has been--telling me-- LUCAS. What, dear? AGNES. The sort of arrangement proposed for your going back to London. LUCAS. Oh, my brother's brilliant idea! AGNES. Acquiesced in by your wife. [ST. OLPHERTS strolls away fromthem. ] LUCAS. Certainly; as I anticipated, she has become intenselydissatisfied with her position. AGNES. And it would be quite possible, it seems, for you to resume yourold career? LUCAS. Just barely possible--well, for the moment, quite possible. AGNES. Quite possible. LUCAS. I haven't, formally, made a sign to my political friends yet. It's a task one leaves to the last. I shall do so now--at once. Mypeople have been busying themselves, it appears, in reporting that Ishall return to London directly my health is fully re-established. AGNES. In the hope--? Oh, yes. LUCAS. Hoping they'd be able to separate us before it was too--toolate. AGNES. Which hope they've now relinquished? LUCAS. Apparently. AGNES. They're prepared to accept a--a compromise, I hear? LUCAS. Ha!--yes. AGNES. A compromise in my favour? LUCAS. [Hesitatingly. ] They suggest-- AGNES. Yes, yes, I know. [Looking at him searchingly. ] After all, yourold career was--a success. You made your mark, as you were saying theother day. You did make your mark. [He walks up and down restlessly, abstractedly, her eyes following him. ] You were generally spoken of, accepted, as a Coming Man. The Coming Man, often, wasn't it? LUCAS. [With an impatient wave of the hand. ] That doesn't matter! AGNES. And now you are giving it up--giving it all up. [He sits on the settee, resting his elbow on his knee, pushing his handthrough his hair. ] LUCAS. But--but you believe I shall succeed equally well in this newcareer of mine? AGNES. [Stonily. ] There's the risk, you must remember. LUCAS. Obviously, there's the risk. Why do you say all this to me now? AGNES. Because now is the opportunity to--to go back. LUCAS. [Scornfully. ] Opportunity--? AGNES. An excellent one. You're so strong and well now. LUCAS. Thanks to you. AGNES. [Staring before her. ] Well--I did nurse you carefully, didn'tI? LUCAS. But I don't understand you. You are surely not proposing to--to--break with me? AGNES. No--I--I--I was only thinking that you--you might seesomething in this suggestion of a compromise. [LUCAS glances at ST. OLPHERTS, whose back is turned to them. ST. OLPHERTS instinctively looks round, then goes and sits by the window. ] LUCAS. [Looking at her searchingly. ] Well, but--you--? AGNES. [With assumed indifference. ] Oh, I-- LUCAS. You? AGNES. Lucas, don't--don't make me paramount. [He moves to the end ofthe settee, showing by a look that he desires her to sit by him. Aftera moment's hesitation she takes her place beside him. ] LUCAS. [In an undertone. ] I do make you paramount. I do. My dear girl, under any circumstances you would still be everything to me--always. [She nods with a vacant look. ] There would have to be this pretence ofan establishment of mine--that would have to be faced; the whitedsepulchre, the mockery of dinners and receptions and so on. But itwould be to you I should fly for sympathy, encouragement, rest. AGNES. Even if you were ill again-- LUCAS. Even then, if it were practicable--if it could be--if it-- AGNES. [Looking him in the face. ] Well--? LUCAS. [Avoiding her gaze. ] Yes, dear? AGNES. What do you say, then, to asking the Duke to give you back thatletter to your brother? LUCAS. It wouldn't settle matters, simply destroying that letter. Sandford begs me to go round to the Danieli tonight, to--to-- AGNES. To see him? [LUCAS nods. ] And her? [He shrugs his shoulders. ] Atwhat time? Was any time specified? LUCAS. Half-past nine. AGNES. I--I haven't my watch on. LUCAS. [Referring to his watch. ] Nine twenty-five. AGNES. You can almost manage it--if you'd like to go. LUCAS. Oh, let them wait a few minutes for me; that won't hurt them. AGNES. [Dazed. ] Let me see--I did fetch your hat and coat--[She risesand walks mechanically, stumbling against a chair. LUCAS looks up, alarmed; ST. OLPHERTS rises. ] AGNES. [Replacing the chair. ] It's all right; I didn't notice this. [Bringing LUCAS'S hat and coat, and assisting him with the latter. ] Howlong will you be? LUCAS. Not more than half an hour. An hour at the outside. AGNES. [Arranging his neck handkerchief. ] Keep this so. LUCAS. Er--if--if I--if we-- AGNES. The Duke is waiting. [LUCAS turns away, and joins ST. OLPHERTS. ] LUCAS. [To him, in a low voice. ] I am going back to the hotel with you. ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, are you? [The door opens and FORTUNE enters, followedby AMOS WINTERFIELD. FORTUNE retires. ] AMOS. [To LUCAS, sternly. ] Is my sister still here, may I ask? [LUCASlooks to AGNES interrogatively. She inclines her head. ] AMOS. I should like her to know that I am waiting for her. [AGNES goesout. ] LUCAS. [To AMOS. ] Pray excuse me. [AMOS draws back. ST. OLPHERTS passes out. At the door, LUCAS pauses, and bows slightly to AMOS, who returns his bow in the same fashion;then LUCAS follows ST. OLPHERTS. GERTRUDE enters, wearing her hat andmantle. AGNES follows; her movements are unsteady, and there is a wildlook in her eyes. ] GERTRUDE. You've come to fetch me, Amos? [He assents by a nod. ] AMOS. [To AGNES. ] I'm sorry to learn from Dr. Kirke that you've beenill. I hope you're better. AGNES. [Turning away, GERTRUDE watching her. ] Thank you, I am quitewell. AMOS. [Gruffly. ] Are you ready, Gertrude? GERTRUDE. No, dear, not yet. I want you to help me. AMOS. In what way? GERTRUDE. I want you to join me in persuading Mrs. Ebbsmith--myfriend, 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 leastunderstand how matters are with me. I am returning to England, but withMr. Cleeve. [Recklessly. ] Oh, you'd hear of it eventually! He isreconciled to his wife. GERTRUDE. Oh--! Then, surely, you--! AGNES. No. The reconciliation goes no further than mere outwardappearances. He relies upon me as much as ever. [Beating her handstogether passionately. ] He can't spare me--can't spare me! AMOS. [In a low voice to GERTRUDE. ] Are you satisfied? GERTRUDE. I suspected something of the kind. [Going to AGNES, grippingher wrist tightly. ] Pull yourself out of the mud! Get up out of themud! AGNES. I have no will to--no desire to! GERTRUDE. You mad thing! AGNES. [Releasing herself, facing GERTRUDE and AMOS. ] You're onlybreaking in upon my hour. GERTRUDE. Your hour--? AGNES. [Waving them away. ] I ask you to go--to go! [GERTRUDE returnsto AMOS. ] AMOS. My dear Gertrude, you see what our position is here. If Mrs. Ebbsmith asks for our help it is our duty to give it. GERTRUDE. It is especially my duty, Amos. AMOS. And I should have thought it especially mine. However, Mrs. Ebbsmith appears to firmly decline our help. And at this point, Iconfess, I would rather you left it--you, at least. GERTRUDE. You would rather I left it--I, the virtuous, unsoiled woman!Yes, I am a virtuous woman, Amos; and it strikes you as odd, I suppose, my insisting upon friendship with her. But look here, both of you. I'lltell you a secret. You never knew it, Amos my dear. I never allowedanybody to suspect it-- AMOS. Never knew what? GERTRUDE. The sort of married life mine was. It didn't last long, butit was dreadful, almost intolerable. AMOS. Gertrude! GERTRUDE. After the first few weeks--weeks, not months!--after thefirst few weeks of it, my husband treated me as cruelly--[turning toAGNES]--just as cruelly, I do believe, as your husband treated you. [AMOS makes a movement, showing astonishment. ] Wait! Now then! Therewas another man--one I loved--one I couldn't help loving! I couldhave found release with him, perhaps happiness of a kind. I resisted, came through it. They're dead--the two are dead! And here I am, avirtuous, reputable woman; saved by the blessed mercy of Heaven! There, you are not surprised any longer, Amos! [Pointing to AGNES. ] "Myfriend, Mrs Ebbsmith!" [Bursting into tears. ] Oh! Oh, if my little boyhad been spared to me, he should have grown up tender to women--tenderto women! He should, he should--! [She sits upon the settee, weeping . . . There is a short silence. ] AMOS. Mrs. Ebbsmith, when I came here tonight I was angry with Gertrude--not altogether, I hope, for being in your company. But I wascertainly angry with her for visiting you without my knowledge. I thinkI sometimes forget that she is eight-and-twenty, not eighteen. Well, now I offer to delay our journey home for a few days, if you hold outthe faintest hope that her companionship is likely to aid you in anyway. [AGNES, standing motionless, makes no response. AMOS crosses to her, and as he passes GERTRUDE, he lets his hand drop over her shoulder; sheclasps it, then rises and moves to a chair, where she sits, cryingsilently. ] AMOS. [By AGNES' side--in a low voice. ] You heard what she said. Savedby the mercy of Heaven. AGNES. Yes, but she can feel that. AMOS. You felt so once. AGNES. Once--? AMOS. You have, in years gone by, asked for help on your knees. AGNES. It never came. AMOS. Repeat your cry! AGNES. There would be no answer. AMOS. Repeat it! AGNES. [Turning upon him. ] If miracles could happen! If "help", as youterm it, did come! Do you know what "help" would mean to me? AMOS. What--? AGNES. It would take the last crumb from me! AMOS. This man's--protection? AGNES. [Defiantly. ] Yes AMOS. Oh, Mrs. Ebbsmith--! AGNES. [Pointing to the door. ] Well, I've asked you both to leave me, haven't I! [Pointing at GERTRUDE, who has risen. ] The man she loves isdead and gone! She can moralise--! [Sitting, beating upon the setteewith her hands. ] Leave me! [AMOS joins GERTRUDE. ] GERTRUDE. We'll go, Amos. [He takes from his pocket a smallleather-bound book; the cover is well-worn and shabby. ] AMOS. [Writing upon the fly-leaf of the book with a pencil. ] I amwriting our address here, Mrs. Ebbsmith. AGNES. [In a hard voice. ] I already have it. [GERTRUDE glances at thebook over AMOS'S shoulder, and looks at him wonderingly. ] AMOS. [Laying the book on the settee by AGNES' side. ] You might forgetit. [She stares at the book, with knitted brows, for a moment, thenstretches out her hand and opens it. ] AGNES. [Withdrawing her hand sharply. ] No--I don't accept your gift. AMOS. The address of two friends is upon the fly-leaf. AGNES. I thank both of you; but you shall never be troubled again byme. [Rising, pointing to the book. ] Take that away! [Sitting facing thestove, the door of which she opens, replenishing the fire--excitedly. ]Mr. Cleeve may be back soon; it would be disagreeable to you all tomeet again. [GERTRUDE gently pushes AMOS aside, and picking up the bookfrom the settee, places it upon the table. ] GERTRUDE. [To AGNES, pointing to the book. ] This frightens you. Simpleprint and paper, so you pretend to regard it; but it frightens you. [With a quick movement, AGNES twists her chair round and faces GERTRUDEfiercely. ] I called you a mad thing just now. A week ago I did thinkyou half-mad--a poor, ill-used creature, a visionary, a moral womanliving immorally; yet, in spite of all, a woman to be loved and pitied. But now I'm beginning to think you're only frail--wanton. Oh, you'renot so mad as not to know you're wicked! [Tapping the book forcibly. ]And so this frightens you. AGNES. You're right! Wanton! That's what I've become! And I'm in myright senses, as you say. I suppose I was mad once for a little time, years ago. And do you know what drove me so? [Striking the book withher fist. ] It was that--that! GERTRUDE. That! AGNES. I'd trusted in it, clung to it, and it failed me. Never once didit stop my ears to the sounds of a curse; when I was beaten it didn'tmake the blows a whit lighter; it never healed my bruised flesh, mybruised spirit! Yes, that drove me distracted for a while; but I'm sanenow--now it is you that are mad, mad to believe! You foolish people, not to know [beating her breast and forehead]--that Hell or Heaven ishere and here! [Pointing to the book. ] Take it! [GERTRUDE turns awayand joins AMOS, and they walk quickly to the door. ] AGNES. [Frantically. ] I'll not endure the sight of it--![As they reach the door, GERTRUDE looks back and sees AGNES hurl thebook into the fire. They go out. AGNES starts to her feet and standsmotionless for a moment, her head bent, her fingers twisted in herhair. Then she raises her head; the expression of her face has changedto a look of fright and horror. Uttering a loud cry, she hastens to thestove, and, thrusting her hand into the fire, drags out the book. GERTRUDE and AMOS re-enter quickly in alarm. ] GERTRUDE. Agnes--! [They stand looking at AGNES, who is kneeling uponthe ground, clutching the charred book. ] END OF THE THIRD ACT THE FOURTH ACT [The scene is an apartment in the Campo San Bartolomeo. The walls areof plaster; the ceiling is frescoed in cheap modern Italian fashion. Atthe end of the room is a door leading to AGNES'S bedroom; to the leftis an exit onto a landing, while a nearer door, on the same side, opens into another room. The furniture and the few objects attached tothe walls are characteristic of a moderate-priced Venetian lodging. Placed about the room, however, are photographs in pretty fanes andknick-knacks personal to GERTRUDE, and a travelling-trunk and bag arealso to be seen. The shutters of the two nearer windows are closed; abroad stream of moonlight, coming through the further window, floodsthe upper part of the room. ] [HEPHZIBAH, a grey-haired north-country woman dressed as a lady's maid, is collecting the knick-knacks and placing them in the travelling bag. After a moment or two, GERTRUDE enters by the further door. ] GERTRUDE. [At the partly closed door, speaking into the further room. ]I'll come back to you in a little while, Agnes. [Closing the door, andaddressing HEPHZIBAH. ] How are you getting on, Heppy? HEPHZIBAH. A'reet, Miss Gerty. I'm puttin' together a' the sma'knick-knacks, to lay them wi' the claes i' th' trunks. GERTRUDE. [Taking some photographs from the table and bringing them toHEPHZIBAH. ] We leave here at a quarter to eight in the morning; not aminute later. HEPHZIBAH. Aye. Will there be much to pack for Mistress Cleeve? GERTRUDE. Nothing at all. Besides her hand-bag, she has only the onebox. HEPHZIBAH. [Pointing to the trunk. ] Nay, nobbut that thing! GERTRUDE. Yes, nobbut that. I packed that for her at the Palazzo. HEPHZIBAH. Eh, it won't gi' us ower much trouble to maid MistressCleeve when we get her hame. GERTRUDE. Heppy, we are not going to call--my friend--"Mrs Cleeve. " HEPHZIBAH. Nay! What will thee call her? GERTRUDE. I'll tell you--by-and-bye. Remember, she must never, neverbe reminded of the name. HEPHZIBAH. Aye, I'll be maist carefu'. Poor leddy! After the way shetreated that husband o' hers in Florence neet and day, neet and day! GERTRUDE. The world's full of unhappiness, Heppy. HEPHZIBAH. The world's full of husbands. I canna' bide them. They'retrue enough when they're ailin'--but a lass can't keep her Jo alwayssick. Hey, Miss Gerty! Do forgi'e your auld Heppy! GERTRUDE. For what? HEPHZIBAH. Why, your own man, so I've heered, ne'er had as much as abit headache till he caught his fever and died o't. GERTRUDE. No, I never knew Captain Thorpe to complain of an ache or apain. HEPHZIBAH. And he was a rare, bonny husband to thee, if a tales betrue. GERTRUDE. Yes, Heppy. [Listening, startled. ] Who's this? HEPHZIBAH. [Going and looking. ] Maister Amos. [AMOS enters briskly. ] AMOS. [To GERTRUDE. ] How is she? GERTRUDE. [Assisting him to remove his overcoat. ] More as she used tobe--so still, so gentle. She's reading. AMOS. [Looking at her significantly. ] Reading? GERTRUDE. Reading. [He sits, humming a tune, while HEPPY takes off hisshoes and gives him his slippers. ] HEPHZIBAH. Eh, Maister Amos, it's good to see thee sae gladsome. AMOS. Home, Heppy, home! HEPHZIBAH. Aye, hame! AMOS. With our savings! HEPHZIBAH. With our savings! HEPHZIBAH. Thy savings--! AMOS. Tsch! Get on with your packing. [HEPHZIBAH goes out, carrying the travelling-bag and AMOS'S shoes. Heexchanges the coat he is wearing for a shabby little black jacket whichGERTRUDE brings him. ] GERTRUDE. [Filling AMOS'S pipe. ] Well, dear! Go on! AMOS. Well, I've seen them. GERTRUDE. Them-- AMOS. The Duke and Sir Sandford Cleeve. GERTRUDE. At the hotel. AMOS. I found them sitting together in the hall, smoking, listening tosome music. GERTRUDE. Quite contented with the arrangement they believed they hadbrought about. AMOS. Apparently so. Especially the Baronet--a poor, cadaverouscreature. GERTRUDE. Where was Mr. Cleeve? AMOS. He had been there, had an interview with his wife, and departed. GERTRUDE. Then by this time he has discovered that Mrs. Ebbsmith hasleft him? AMOS. I suppose so. GERTRUDE. Well, well! The Duke and the cadaverous Baronet? AMOS. Oh, I told them that I considered it my duty to let them knowthat the position of affairs had suddenly become altered--[she putsthe pipe in his mouth, and strikes a match. ]--that, in point offact, Mrs. Ebbsmith had ceased to be an element in their scheme forre-establishing Mr. Cleeve's household. GERTRUDE. [Holding a light to his pipe. ] Did they inquire as to hermovements? AMOS. The Duke did--guessed we had taken her. GERTRUDE. What did they say to that? AMOS. The Baronet asked me whether I was the chaplain of a Home for[angrily]--ah! GERTRUDE. Brute! And then? AMOS. Then they suggested that I ought hardly to leave them to make thenecessary explanation to their relative, Mr. Lucas Cleeve. GERTRUDE. Yes--well? AMOS. I replied that I fervently hoped I should never set eyes on theirrelative again. GERTRUDE [Gleefully. ] Ha! AMOS. But that Mrs. Ebbsmith had left a letter behind her at thePalazzo Arconati, addressed to that gentleman, which I presumecontained so full an explanation as he could desire. GERTRUDE. Oh, Amos--! AMOS. Eh? GERTRUDE. You're mistaken there, dear; there was no letter. AMOS. No letter--? GERTRUDE. Simply four shakily-written words. AMOS. Only four words! GERTRUDE. "My--hour-is-over. " [HEPHZIBAH enters with a card on a little tray. GERTRUDE reads the cardand utters an exclamation. ] GERTRUDE. [Taking the card and speaking under her breath. ] Amos! [Hegoes to her; they stare at the card together. ] AMOS. [To HEPHZIBAH. ] Certainly! [HEPHZIBAH goes out, then returns withthe DUKE OF ST. OLPHERTS, and retires. ST. OLPHERTS bows graciously toGERTRUDE and more formally to AMOS. ] AMOS. Pray, sit down. [ST. OLPHERTS seats himself on the settee. ] ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, my dear sir!--If I may use such an expression inyour presence--here is the devil to pay! AMOS. [To ST. OLPHERTS. ] You don't mind my pipe. [ST. OLPHERTS waves ahand pleasantly. ] And I don't mind your expression--[sitting by thetable]--the devil to pay? ST. OLPHERTS. This, I daresay well intentioned, interference of yourshas brought about some very unpleasant results. Mr. Cleeve returns tothe Palazzo Arconati and find that Mrs. Ebbsmith has flown. AMOS. That result, at least, was inevitable. ST. OLPHERTS. Whereupon he hurries back to the Danieli and denounces usall for a set of conspirators. AMOS. Your Grace doesn't complain of the injustice of that charge? ST. OLPHERTS. [Smilingly. ] No, no, I don't complain. But the brother--the wife! Just when they imagined they had bagged the truant--there'sthe sting! GERTRUDE. Oh, then Mr. Cleeve now refuses to carry out his part of theshameful arrangement? ST. OLPHERTS. Absolutely. [Rising, taking a chair, and placing it bythe settee. ] Come into this, dear Mrs. Thorn--! AMOS. Thorpe. ST. OLPHERTS. Come into this! [Sitting again. ] You understand the sortof man we have to deal with in Mr. Cleeve. GERTRUDE. [Sitting. ] A man who prizes a woman when he has lost her. ST. OLPHERTS. Precisely. GERTRUDE. Men don't relish, I suppose, being cast off by women. ST. OLPHERTS. It's an inversion of the picturesque; the male abandonedis not a pathetic figure. At any rate, our poor Lucas is now ravingfidelity to Mrs. Ebbsmith. GERTRUDE. [Indignantly. ] Ah--! ST. OLPHERTS. If you please, he cannot, will not, exist without her. Reputation, fame, fortune are nothing weighed against--Mrs. Ebbsmith. And we may go to perdition, so that he recovers--Mrs. Ebbsmith. AMOS. Well--to be plain--you're not asking us to sympathise with Mrs. Cleeve and her brother-in-law over their defeat? ST. OLPHERTS. Certainly not. All I ask, Mr. Winterfield, is that youwill raise no obstacle to a meeting between Mr. Cleeve and--and-- GERTRUDE. No! [ST. OLPHERTS signifies assent; GERTRUDE makes a movement. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [To her. ] Don't go. AMOS. The object of such a meeting? ST. OLPHERTS. Mrs. Cleeve desires to make a direct, personal appeal toMrs. Ebbsmith. GERTRUDE. Oh, what kind of woman can this Mrs. Cleeve be? ST. OLPHERTS. A woman of character, who sets herself to accomplish acertain task-- GERTRUDE. Character! AMOS. Hush, Gerty! ST. OLPHERTS. And who gathers her skirts tightly around her andtip-toes gently into the mire. AMOS. To put it clearly: in order to get her unfaithful husband back toLondon, Mrs. Cleeve would deliberately employ this weak, unhappy womanas a lure. ST. OLPHERTS. Perhaps Mrs. Cleeve is an unhappy woman. GERTRUDE. What work for a wife! ST. OLPHERTS. Wife--nonsense! She is only married to Cleeve. AMOS. [Walking up and down. ] It is proposed that this meeting shouldtake place--when? ST. OLPHERTS. I have brought Sir Sandford and Mrs. Cleeve with me. [Pointing towards the outer door. ] They are-- AMOS. If I decline? ST. OLPHERTS. It's known you leave for Milan at a quarter to nine inthe morning; there might be some sort of foolish, inconvenient scene atthe station. AMOS. Surely your Grace--? ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, no, I shall be in bed at that hour. I mean, betweenthe women, perhaps--and Mr. Cleeve. Come, come, sir, you can't abductMrs. Ebbsmith--nor can we. Nor must you gag her. [AMOS appears angryand perplexed. ] Pray be reasonable. Let her speak out for herself--here, finally--and settle the business. Come, sir, come! AMOS. [Going to GERTRUDE and speaking in a low voice. ] Ask her. [GERTRUDE goes out. ] Cleeve! Where is he while this poor creature'sbody and soul are being played for? You have told him she is with us? ST. OLPHERTS. No, I haven't. AMOS. He must suspect it. ST. OLPHERTS. Well, candidly, Mr. Winterfield, Mr. Cleeve is just nowemployed in looking for Mrs. Ebbsmith elsewhere. AMOS. Elsewhere? ST. OLPHERTS. Sir Sandford recognised that, in his brother's presentmood, the young man's presence might be prejudicial to the success ofthese delicate negotiations. AMOS. So some lie has been told him, to keep him out of the way? ST. OLPHERTS. Now, Mr. Winterfield--! AMOS. Good heavens! Duke--forgive me for my roughness--you appear tobe fouling your hands, all of you, with some relish! ST. OLPHERTS. I must trouble you to address remarks of that nature toSir Sandford Cleeve. I am no longer a prime mover in the affair. I amsimply standing by. AMOS. But how can you "stand by"? ST. OLPHERTS. Confound it, sir, if you will trouble yourself to rescuepeople, there is a man to be rescued here as well as a woman; a man, bythe way, who is a--a sort of relative of mine. AMOS. The woman first! ST. OLPHERTS. Not always. You can rescue this woman in a few weeks'time; it can make no difference. AMOS. [Indignantly. ] Ah--! ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, you are angry! AMOS. I beg your pardon. One word. I assure your Grace that I trulybelieve this wretched woman is at a fatal crisis in her life. I believethat if I lose her now there is every chance of her slipping back intoa misery and despair out of which it will be impossible to drag her. Oh, I'll be perfectly open with you. At this moment we--my sister andI--are not perfectly sure of her. Her affection for this man may stillinduce her to sacrifice herself utterly for him; she is still in dangerof falling to the lowest depth a woman can attain. Come, Duke, don'thelp these people. And don't "stand by!" Help me and my sister. ForGod's sake! ST. OLPHERTS. My good Mr. Winterfield, believe me or not, I--Ipositively like this woman. AMOS. [Gladly. ] Ah! ST. OLPHERTS. She attracts me curiously. And if she wanted assistance-- AMOS. Doesn't she? ST. OLPHERTS. Money-- AMOS. No, no. ST. OLPHERTS. She should have it. But as for the rest--well-- AMOS. Well? ST. OLPHERTS. Well sir, you must understand me. It is a failing ofmine; I can't approach women--I never could--in the missionaryspirit. [GERTRUDE re-enters; the men turn to face her. ] AMOS. [To GERTRUDE. ] Will she--? GERTRUDE. Yes. [ST. OLPHERTS limps out of the room, bowing to GERTRUDEas he passes. ] Oh, Amos! AMOS. Are we to lose the poor soul after all, Gerty? GERTRUDE. I--I can't think so. Oh! but I'm afraid. [ST. OLPHERTS returns, and SIR SANDFORD CLEEVE enters with SYBILCLEEVE. SANDFORD is a long, lean, old-young man with a pinched face. SYBIL is a stately, handsome young woman, beautifully gowned andthickly veiled. ] ST. OLPHERTS. Mrs Thorpe--Mr Winterfield. [SYBIL and SANDFORD bowdistantly to GERTRUDE and AMOS. ] AMOS. [To SANDFORD and SYBIL, indicating the settee. ] Will you--?[SYBIL sits on the settee; SANDFORD takes the chair beside her. ]Gertrude--[GERTRUDE goes out. ] SIR SANDFORD. [Pompously. ] Mr Winterfield, I find myself engaged on apeculiarly distasteful task. AMOS. I have no hope, Sir Sandford, that you will not have strength todischarge it. 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 ayoung 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 istightly drawn from her brows; her face is haggard, her eyes are red andsunken. A strip of linen binds her right hand. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [Speaking into SYBIL'S ear. ] The lean witch again! Thewitch of the Iron Hall at St. Luke's. SYBIL. [In a whisper. ] Is that the woman? ST. OLPHERTS. You see only one of 'em--there are two there. [SANDFORD rises as AGNES comes slowly forward accompanied by GERTRUDE. AMOS joins GERTRUDE; and they go together into the adjoining room, GERTRUDE giving AGNES an appealing look. ] SIR SANDFORD. [To AGNES. ] I--I am Mr. Lucas Cleeve's brother--[with amotion of the hand towards SYBIL]--this is--this is-- [He swallows the rest of the announcement and retires to the back ofthe room, where he stands before the stove. ST. OLPHERTS strolls awayand disappears. ] SYBIL. [To AGNES, in a hard, dry, disdainful voice. ] I beg that youwill sit down. [AGNES sits mechanically, with an expressionless face. ]I--I don't need to be told that this is a very--a very unwomanlyproceeding on my part. SIR SANDFORD. I can't regard it in that light, under the peculiarcircumstances. SYBIL. I'd rather you wouldn't interrupt me, Sandford. [To AGNES. ] Butthe peculiar circumstances, to borrow my brother-in-law's phrase, arenot such as to develop sweetness and modesty, I suppose. SIR SANDFORD. Again I say you wrong yourself there, Sybil-- SYBIL. [Impatiently. ] Oh, please let me wrong myself, for a change. [ToAGNES. ] When my husband left me, and I heard of his association withyou, I felt sure that his vanity would soon make an openly irregularlife intolerable to him. Vanity is the cause of a great deal of virtuein men; the vainest are those who like to be thought respectable. SIR SANDFORD. Really, I must protest-- SYBIL. But Lady Cleeve--the mother--and the rest of the family havenot had the patience to wait for the fulfilment of my prophecy. And soI 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 andmoves away, following ST. OLPHERTS. ] However, there's this to be saidfor them, poor people--whatever is done to save my husband's prospectsin life must be done now. It is no longer possible to play fast andloose with friends and supporters--to say nothing of enemies. Hisfuture now rests upon a matter of days--hours almost. [Rising andwalking about agitatedly. ] That is why I am sent here--well, why I amhere. AGNES. [In a low, quavering voice. ] What is it you are all asking me todo now? SYBIL. We are asking you to continue to--to exert your influence overhim for a little while longer. AGNES. [Rising unsteadily. ] Ah--! [She makes a movement to go, falters, and irresolutely sits again. ] My influence--mine! SYBIL. [With a stamp of the foot. ] You wouldn't underrate your power ifyou had seen him, heard him, about an hour ago--[mockingly] after hehad discovered his bereavement. AGNES. He will soon forget me. SYBIL. Yes--if you don't forsake him. AGNES. I am going to England, into Yorkshire; according to yourshowing, that should draw him back. SYBIL. Oh, I've no doubt that we shall hear of him--in Yorkshire!You'll find him dangling about your skirts--in Yorkshire! AGNES. And he will find that I am determined--strong. SYBIL. Ultimately he will tire, of course. But when? And what assurancehave we that he returns to us when he has wearied of pursuing you?Besides, don't I tell you that we must make sure of him now? It's of nouse his begging us, in a month's time, to patch up home and reputation. It must be now--and you can end our suspense. Come, hideous as itsounds, this is not much to ask. AGNES. [Shrinking from her. ] Oh--! SYBIL. Oh, don't regard me as the wife! That's an unnecessarysentiment, I pledge you my word. It's a little late in the day, too, for such considerations. So, come, help us! AGNES. I will not. SYBIL. He has an old mother-- AGNES. Poor woman! SYBIL. And remember, you took him away--! AGNES. I! SYBIL. Practically you did--with your tender nursing and sweetcompassion. Isn't it straining a point--to shirk bringing him back? AGNES. [Rising. ] I did not take him from you. You--you sent him to me. SYBIL. Ho, yes! That tale has been dinned into your ears often enough, I can quite believe. I sent him to you--my coldness, heartlessness, selfishness sent him to you. The unsympathetic wife--eh? Yes, but youdidn't put yourself to the trouble of asking for my version of thestory before you mingled your woes with his. [AGNES faces hersuddenly. ] You know him now. Have I been altogether to blame, do youstill think? Unsympathetic! Because I've so often had to tighten mylips, and stare blankly over his shoulder, to stop myself crying out inweariness of his vanity and pettiness? Cruel! Because, occasionally, patience becomes exhausted at the mere contemplation of a man soself-absorbed? Why, you married miserably, the Duke of St. Olphertstells us! Before you made yourself my husband's champion and protector, why didn't you let your experience speak a word for me? [AGNES quicklyturns away and sits upon the settee, her hands to her brow. ] However, Ididn't come here to revile you. [Standing by her. ] They say that you'rea strange woman--not the sort of woman one generally finds doing suchthings as you have done; a woman with odd ideas. I hear--oh, I'mwilling to believe it!--that there's good in you. [AGNES breaks into alow peal of hysterical laughter. ] AGNES. Who tells you--that? SYBIL. The Duke. AGNES. Ha, ha, ha! A character--from him! ha, ha, ha! SYBIL. [Her voice and manner softening. ] Well, if there is pity in you, help us to get my husband back to London, to his friends, to his oldambitions. AGNES. Ha, ha, ha, ha! your husband! SYBIL. The word slips out. I swear to you that he and I can never bemore to each other than companion figures in a masquerade. The sameroof may cover us; but between two wings of a house, as you may know, there often stretches a wide desert. I despise him; he hates me. [Walking away, her voice breaking. ] Only--I did love him once . . . Idon't want to see him utterly thrown away--wasted . . . I don't quitewant to see that . . . [AGNES rises and approaches SYBIL, fearfully. ] AGNES. [In a whisper. ] Lift your veil for a moment. [SYBIL raises herveil. ] Tears--tears--[with a deep groan]--Oh--! [SYBIL turns away. ] I--I'll do it . . . I'll go back to the Palazzo . . . At once . . . [SYBIL draws herself up suddenly. ] I've wronged you! Wronged you! O God!O God! [She totters away and goes into her bedroom. For a moment or twoSYBIL stands still, a look of horror and repulsion upon her face. Thenshe turns and goes towards the outer door. ] SYBIL. [Calling. ] Sandford! Sandford! [SIR SANDFORD CLEEVE and the DUKE OF ST. OLPHERTS enter. ] SIR SANDFORD. [To SYBIL. ] Well--? SYBIL. She is going back to the Palazzo. SIR SANDFORD. You mean that she consents to--? SYBIL. [Stamping her foot. ] I mean that she will go back to thePalazzo. [Sitting and leaning her head upon her hands. ] Oh! oh! SIR SANDFORD. Need we wait any longer, then? SYBIL. These people--these people who are befriending her! Tell them. SIR SANDFORD. Really, it can hardly be necessary to consult-- SYBIL. [Fiercely. ] I will have them told! I will have them told![SANDFORD goes to the door of the adjoining room and knocks, returningto SYBIL as GERTRUDE and AMOS enter. SYBIL draws down her veil. ] GERTRUDE. [Looking round. ] Mrs. Ebbsmith--? Mrs. Ebbsmith--! SIR SANDFORD. Er--many matters have been discussed with Mrs. Ebbsmith. Undoubtedly, she has, for the moment, considerable influence over mybrother. She has consented to exert it, to induce him to return at onceto London. AMOS. I think I understand you! [AGNES appears at the door of her roomdressed in bonnet and cloak. ] GERTRUDE. Agnes--! [AGNES comes forward, stretches out her hand toGERTRUDE, and throws herself upon the settee. ] SYBIL. [To SANDFORD, clutching his arm. ] Take me away. [They turn togo. ] GERTRUDE. [To SYBIL. ] Mrs Cleeve--! [Looking down upon AGNES. ] Mrs. Cleeve, we--my brother and I--hoped to save this woman. She was worthsaving. You have utterly destroyed her. [SYBIL makes no answer, butwalks slowly away with SANDFORD, then stops and turns abruptly. ] SYBIL. [With a gasp. ] Oh--! No--I will not accept the services of thiswretched woman. I loathe myself for what I have done. [Coming toAGNES. ] Look up! Look at me! [Proudly--lifting her veil. ] I declineyour help--I decline it. [To GERTRUDE and AMOS. ] You hear me--you--and you? I unsay all that I've said to her. It's too degrading. I willnot have such an act upon my conscience. [To AGNES. ] Understand me! Ifyou rejoin this man I shall consider it a fresh outrage upon me. I hopeyou will keep with your friends. [GERTRUDE holds out her hand to SYBIL;SYBIL touches it distantly. ] AGNES. [Clutching at SYBIL'S skirts. ] Forgive me! forgive--! SYBIL. [Retreating. ] Ah, please--! [Turning and confronting SANDFORD. ]Tell your mother I have failed. I am not going back to England. [LUCAS enters quickly; he and SYBIL come face to face. They standlooking at each other for a moment, then she sweeps past him and goesout. SANDFORD follows her. ] LUCAS. [Coming to AGNES. ] Agnes--[To AGNES, in rapid, earnestundertones. ] They sent me to the railway station; my brother told meyou were likely to leave for Milan tonight. I ought to have guessedsooner that you were in the hands of this meddling parson and hissister. Why has my wife been here--? AGNES. [In a low voice, rocking herself gently to and fro. ] You wife--your wife--! LUCAS. And the others? What scheme is afoot now? Why have you left me?Why didn't you tell me outright that I was putting you to too severe atest? You tempted me, you led me on, to propose that I should patch upmy life in that way. [She rises, with an expressionless face. ] But ithas had one good result. I know now how much I depend on you. Oh, Ihave had it all out with myself, pacing up and down that cursed railwaystation. [Laying his hand upon her arm and speaking into her ear. ] Idon't deceive myself any longer. Agnes, this is the great cause of theunhappiness I've experienced of late years--I'm not fit for the fightand press of life. I wear no armour; I am too horribly sensitive. Myskin bleeds at a touch; even flatter wounds me. Oh, the wretchedness ofit! But you can be strong--at your weakest, there is a certainstrength in you. With you, in time, I feel I shall grow stronger. OnlyI must withdraw from the struggle for a while; you must take me out ofit and let me rest--recover breath, as it were. Come! Forgive me forhaving treated you ungratefully, almost treacherously. Tomorrow weshall begin our search for our new home. Agnes! AGNES. I have already found a home. LUCAS. Apart from me, you mean? AGNES. Apart from you. LUCAS. No, no. You'll not do that! AGNES. Lucas, this evening, two or three hours ago, you planned out thelife we were to lead in the future. We had done with "madness", if youremember; henceforth we were to be "mere man and woman. " LUCAS. You agreed-- AGNES. Then. But we hadn't looked at each other clearly then, as mereman and woman. You, the man--what are you? You've confessed-- LUCAS. I lack strength; I shall gain it. AGNES. Never from me--never from me. For what am I? Untrue to myself, as you are untrue to yourself; false to others, as you are false toothers; passionate, unstable, like yourself; like yourself, a coward. I--I was to lead women! I was to show them, in your company, how laws--laws made and laws that are natural--may be set aside or slighted; howmen and woman may live independent and noble lives without rule, guidance or sacrament. I was to be the example--the figure set up forothers to observe and imitate. But the figure was made of wax--it fellawry at the first hot breath that touched it! You and I! What apartnership it has been! How base, and gross, and wicked, almost fromthe very beginning! We know each other now thoroughly--how base andwicked it would remain! No, go your way, Lucas, and let me go mine. LUCAS. Where--where are you going? AGNES. To Ketherick--to think. [Wringing her hands. ] Ah! I have tothink, too, now, of the woman I have wronged. LUCAS. Wronged? AGNES. Your wife; the woman I have wronged, who came here tonight, and--spared me. Oh, go! LUCAS. Not like this, Agnes! not like this! AGNES. [Appealingly. ] Gertrude! [LUCAS looks round--first at GERTRUDEthen at AMOS--and, with a hard smile upon his face, turns to go. Suddenly AGNES touches his sleeve. ] Lucas, when you have learnt to prayagain, I will remember you, every day of my life. LUCAS. [Staring at her. ] Pray! . . . You! . . . [She inclines her head twice, slowly; without another word he walksaway and goes out. AGNES sinks upon the settee; AMOS and GERTRUDEremain, stiffly and silently, in the attitude of people who are waitingfor the departure of a disagreeable person. ] ST. OLPHERTS. [After watching LUCAS'S departure. ] Now I wonder whether, if he hurried to his wife at this moment, repentant, and begged her torelent--I wonder whether--whether she would--whether--[looking atAMOS and GERTRUDE, a little disconcerted]--I beg your pardon--You'renot interested? AMOS. Frankly, we are not. ST. OLPHERTS. No; other people's affairs are tedious. [Producing hisgloves. ] Well! A week in Venice--and the weather has been delightful. [Shaking hands with GERTRUDE, whose expression remains unchanged. ] Apleasant journey! [Going to AGNES, offering his hand. ] Mrs. Ebbsmith--?[She lifts her maimed hand. ] Ah! An accident? [She nods wearily. ] I'msorry . . . I . . . [He turns away and goes out, bowing to AMOS as he passes. ]