The G. Bernard Shaw Collection: Plays, Novels, Personal Letters, Articles, Lectures & Essays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ with Mr. Conolly and you cannot go wrong,” said Miss McQuinch.

      “Hush,” said Marian, interposing quickly lest Douglas should retort.

       “There is the chorus. Shall we really join?”

      Conolly struck up the refrain without further hesitation. Marian sang with him. Mrs. Fairfax and the clergyman looked furtively at one another, but forbore to swell the chorus. Miss McQuinch sang a few words in a piercing contralto voice, and then stopped with a gesture of impatience, feeling that she was out of tune. Marian, with only Conolly to keep her in countenance, felt relieved when Marmaduke, thrice encored, entered the room in triumph. Whilst he was being congratulated, Douglas turned to Miss McQuinch, who was pretending to ignore Marmaduke’s success.

      “I hope, Miss McQuinch,” he said in a low tone, “that you will be able to relieve Marian at the piano next time. You know how she dislikes having to play accompaniments for strangers.”

      “How mean it is of you to be jealous of a plumber!” said Miss McQuinch, with a quick glance at him which she did not dare to sustain, so fiercely did he return it.

      When she looked again, he seemed unconscious of her presence, and was buttoning his overcoat.

      “Really going at last, Sholto?” said Marian. Douglas bowed.

      “I told you you wouldnt be able to stand it, old man,” said Marmaduke. “Mrs. Bluestockings wont be pleased with you for not staying to hear her recite.” This referred to Mrs. Fairfax, who had just gone upon the platform.

      “Good night,” said Miss McQuinch, shortly, anxious to test how far he was offended, but unwilling to appear solicitous for a reconciliation.

      “Until tomorrow, farewell,” he said, approaching Marian, who gave him her hand with a smile: Conolly looking thoughtfully at him meanwhile. He left the room; and so, Mrs. Fairfax having gone to the platform to recite, quiet prevailed for a few minutes.

      “Shall I have the pleasure of playing the accompaniment to your next song?” said Conolly, sitting down near Marian.

      “Thank you,” said Marian, shrinking a little: “I think Miss McQuinch knows it by heart.” Then, still anxious to be affable to the workman, she added, “Lord Jasper says you are a great musician.”

      “No, I am an electrician. Music is not my business: it is my amusement.”

      “You have invented something very wonderful, have you not?”

      “I have discovered something, and I am trying to invent a means of turning it to account. It will be only a cheap electro-motor if it comes to anything.”

      “You must explain that to me some day, Mr. Conolly. I’m afraid I dont know what an electro-motor means.”

      “I ought not to have mentioned it,” said Conolly. “It is so constantly in my mind that I am easily led to talk about it. I try to prevent myself, but the very effort makes me think of it more than ever.”

      “But I like to hear you talk about it,” said Marian. “I always try to make people talk shop to me, and of course they always repay me by trying to keep on indifferent topics, of which I know as much — or as little — as they.”

      “Well, then,” said Conolly, “an electro-motor is only an engine for driving machinery, just like a steam engine, except that it is worked by electricity instead of steam. Electric engines are so imperfect now that steam ones come cheaper. The man who finds out how to make the electric engine do what the steam engine now does, and do it cheaper, will make his fortune if he has his wits about him. Thats what I am driving at.”

      Miss Lind, in spite of her sensible views as to talking shop, was not interested in the least. “Indeed!” she said. “How interesting that must be! But how did you find time to become so perfect a musician, and to sing so exquisitely?”

      “I picked most of it up when I was a boy. My grandfather was an Irish sailor with such a tremendous voice that a Neapolitan music master brought him out in opera as a buffo. When he had roared his voice away, he went into the chorus. My father was reared in Italy, and looked more Italian than most genuine natives. He had no voice; so he became first accompanist, then chorus master, and finally trainer for the operatic stage. He speculated in an American tour; married out there; lost all his money; and came over to England, when I was only twelve, to resume his business at Covent Garden. I stayed in America, and was apprenticed to an electrical engineer. I worked at the bench there for six years.”

      “I suppose your father taught you to sing.”

      “No. He never gave me a lesson. The fact is, Miss Lind, he was a capital man to teach stage tricks and traditional renderings of old operas; but only the exceptionally powerful voices survived his method of teaching. He would have finished my career as a singer in two months if he had troubled himself to teach me. Never go to Italy to learn singing.”

      “I fear you are a cynic. You ought either to believe in your father or else be silent about him.”

      “Why?”

      “Why! Surely we should hide the failings of those we love? I can understand now how your musical and electrical tastes became mixed up; but you should not confuse your duties. But please excuse me:” (Conolly’s eyes had opened a little wider) “I am lecturing you, without the least right to. It is a failing of mine which you must not mind.”

      “Not at all. Youve a right to your opinion. But the world would never get on if every practical man were to stand by his father’s mistakes. However, I brought it on myself by telling you a long story. This is the first opportunity I ever had of talking about myself to a lady, and I suppose I have abused it.”

      Marian laughed. “We had better stop apologizing to one another,” she said. “What about the accompaniments to our next songs?”

      Meanwhile Marmaduke and Miss McQuinch were becoming curious about Marian and Conolly.

      “I say, Nelly,” he whispered, “Marian and that young man seem to be getting on uncommonly well together. She looks sentimentally happy, and he seems pleased with himself. Dont you feel jealous?”

      “Jealous! Why should I be?”

      “Out of pure cussedness. Not that you care for the electric man, but because you hate any one to fall in love with any one else when you are by.”

      “I wish you would go away.”

      “Why? Dont you like me?”

      “I loathe you. Now, perhaps you understand me.”

      “That’s a nice sort of thing to say to a fellow,” said Marmaduke, roused. “I have a great mind to bring you to your senses as Douglas does, by not speaking to you for a week.”

      “I wish you would let me come to my senses by not speaking to me at all.”

      “Oh! Well, I am off; but mind, Nelly, I am offended. We are no longer on speaking terms. Look as contemptuous as you please: you will be sorry when you think over this. Remember: you said you loathed me.”

      “So I do,” said Elinor, stubbornly.

      “Very good,” said Marmaduke, СКАЧАТЬ