The Greatest Plays of William Somerset Maugham. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

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      That's not true. I hardly ever see any of my old friends.

      Jenny.

      Except Mrs. Murray, eh?

      Basil.

      I've seen Mrs. Murray perhaps a dozen times in the last year.

      Jenny.

      Oh, you needn't tell me that. I know it. She's a lady, isn't she?

      Basil.

      [Ignoring the charge.] And my work takes me away from you. I can't always be down here. Think how bored you'd be.

      Jenny.

      A precious lot of good your work does. You can't earn enough money to keep us out of debt.

      Basil.

      [Good-humouredly.] We are in debt. But we share that very respectable condition with half the nobility and gentry in the kingdom. We're neither of us good managers, and we've lived a bit beyond our means this year. But in future we'll be more economical.

      Jenny.

      [Sullenly.] All the neighbours know that we've got bills with the tradesmen.

      Basil.

      [Acidly.] I'm sorry that you shouldn't have made so good a bargain as you expected when you married me.

      Jenny.

      I wonder what you do succeed in? Your book was very successful, wasn't it? You thought you were going to set the Thames on fire, and the book fell flat, flat, flat.

      Basil.

      [Recovering his good temper.] That is a fate which has befallen better books than mine.

      Jenny.

      It deserved it.

      Basil.

      Oh, I didn't expect you to appreciate it. It isn't given to all of us to write about wicked earls and beautiful duchesses.

      Jenny.

      Well, I wasn't the only one. The papers praised it, didn't they?

      Basil.

      The unanimity of their blame was the only thing that consoled me.

      Jenny.

      And one of them advised you to study an English grammar. And you're the fine gentleman who looks down on poor things like us!

      Basil.

      I often wonder if the reviewer who abuses you for a printer's error realises what pleasure he causes the wife of your bosom.

      Jenny.

      Oh, I've learnt to know you so well this last six months—since the baby died. You've got no cause to set yourself up on a pedestal.

      Basil.

      [With a laugh.] My dear Jenny, I never pretended to be a golden idol.

      Jenny.

      I know what you are now. And I was such a fool as to think you a hero. You're merely a failure. In everything you try you're a miserable failure.

      Basil.

      [With a slight sigh.] Perhaps you're right, Jenny.

      [Basil walks up and down; and then, stopping, looks at her for a moment meditatively.

      Basil.

      I sometimes wonder whether we shouldn't be happier—if we lived apart.

      Jenny.

      [With a start.] What d'you mean?

      Basil.

      We don't seem able to get on very well. And I see no chance of things going any better.

      Jenny.

      [With staring eyes.] D'you mean to say you want to separate?

      Basil.

      I think it might be better for both of us—at least for a time. Perhaps later on we might try again.

      Jenny.

      And what'll you do?

      Basil.

      I should go abroad for a while.

      Jenny.

      With Mrs. Murray. Is that it? You want to go away with her.

      Basil.

      [Impatiently.] No. Of course not.

      Jenny.

      I don't believe it. You're in love with her.

      Basil.

      You've got no right to say that.

      Jenny.

      Haven't I? I suppose I must shut my eyes and say nothing. You're in love with her. D'you think I've not seen it in these months? That's why you want to leave me.

      Basil.

      It's impossible for us to live together. We shall never agree, and we shall never be happy. For God's sake let us separate and have done with it.

      Jenny.

      You're sick of me. You've had all you want out of me, and now I can go. The fine lady comes along, and you send me away like a housemaid. D'you think I can't see that you're in love with her? You'd sacrifice me without a thought to save her a moment's unpleasantness. And because you love her you hate me.

      Basil.

      It's not true.

      Jenny.

      Can you deny that you're in love with her?

      Basil.

      You're simply mad. Good heavens, I've done nothing that could give you the least cause to be jealous.

      Jenny.

      [Passionately.] Will you swear that you're not in love with her? Swear it on your honour?

      Basil.

      You're mad.

      Jenny.

      [With growing excitement.] Swear it. You can't. You're simply madly in love with her.

      Basil.

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