The Collected Dramas of George Bernard Shaw (Illustrated Edition). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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      ACT IV

       Table of Contents

      The same room. Nine o’clock. Nobody present. The lamps are lighted; but the curtains are not drawn. The window stands wide open; and strings of Chinese lanterns are glowing among the trees outside, with the starry sky beyond. The band is playing dance-music in the garden, drowning the sound of the sea.

      The waiter enters, shewing in Crampton and McComas. Crampton looks cowed and anxious. He sits down wearily and timidly on the ottoman.

      WAITER. The ladies have gone for a turn through the grounds to see the fancy dresses, sir. If you will be so good as to take seats, gentlemen, I shall tell them. (He is about to go into the garden through the window when McComas stops him.)

      McCOMAS. One moment. If another gentleman comes, shew him in without any delay: we are expecting him.

      WAITER. Right, sir. What name, sir?

      McCOMAS. Boon. Mr. Boon. He is a stranger to Mrs. Clandon; so he may give you a card. If so, the name is spelt B.O.H.U.N. You will not forget.

      WAITER (smiling). You may depend on me for that, sir. My own name is Boon, sir, though I am best known down here as Balmy Walters, sir. By rights I should spell it with the aitch you, sir; but I think it best not to take that liberty, sir. There is Norman blood in it, sir; and Norman blood is not a recommendation to a waiter.

      McCOMAS. Well, well: “True hearts are more than coronets, and simple faith than Norman blood.”

      WAITER. That depends a good deal on one’s station in life, sir. If you were a waiter, sir, you’d find that simple faith would leave you just as short as Norman blood. I find it best to spell myself B. double-O.N., and to keep my wits pretty sharp about me. But I’m taking up your time, sir. You’ll excuse me, sir: your own fault for being so affable, sir. I’ll tell the ladies you’re here, sir. (He goes out into the garden through the window.)

      McCOMAS. Crampton: I can depend on you, can’t I?

      CRAMPTON. Yes, yes. I’ll be quiet. I’ll be patient. I’ll do my best.

      McCOMAS. Remember: I’ve not given you away. I’ve told them it was all their fault.

      CRAMPTON. You told me that it was all my fault.

      McCOMAS. I told you the truth.

      CRAMPTON (plaintively). If they will only be fair to me!

      McCOMAS. My dear Crampton, they won’t be fair to you: it’s not to be expected from them at their age. If you’re going to make impossible conditions of this kind, we may as well go back home at once.

      CRAMPTON. But surely I have a right —

      McCOMAS (intolerantly). You won’t get your rights. Now, once for all, Crampton, did your promises of good behavior only mean that you won’t complain if there’s nothing to complain of? Because, if so — (He moves as if to go.)

      CRAMPTON (miserably). No, no: let me alone, can’t you? I’ve been bullied enough: I’ve been tormented enough. I tell you I’ll do my best. But if that girl begins to talk to me like that and to look at me like — (He breaks off and buries his head in his hands.)

      McCOMAS (relenting). There, there: it’ll be all right, if you will only bear and forbear. Come, pull yourself together: there’s someone coming. (Crampton, too dejected to care much, hardly changes his attitude. Gloria enters from the garden; McComas goes to meet her at the window; so that he can speak to her without being heard by Crampton.) There he is, Miss Clandon. Be kind to him. I’ll leave you with him for a moment. (He goes into the garden. Gloria comes in and strolls coolly down the middle of the room.)

      CRAMPTON (looking round in alarm). Where’s McComas?

      GLORIA (listlessly, but not unsympathetically). Gone out — to leave us together. Delicacy on his part, I suppose. (She stops beside him and looks quaintly down at him.) Well, father?

      CRAMPTON (a quaint jocosity breaking through his forlornness). Well, daughter? (They look at one another for a moment, with a melancholy sense of humor.)

      GLORIA. Shake hands. (They shake hands.)

      CRAMPTON (holding her hand). My dear: I’m afraid I spoke very improperly of your mother this afternoon.

      GLORIA. Oh, don’t apologize. I was very high and mighty myself; but I’ve come down since: oh, yes: I’ve been brought down. (She sits on the floor beside his chair.)

      CRAMPTON. What has happened to you, my child?

      GLORIA. Oh, never mind. I was playing the part of my mother’s daughter then; but I’m not: I’m my father’s daughter. (Looking at him funnily.) That’s a come down, isn’t it?

      CRAMPTON (angry). What! (Her odd expression does not alter. He surrenders.) Well, yes, my dear: I suppose it is, I suppose it is. (She nods sympathetically.) I’m afraid I’m sometimes a little irritable; but I know what’s right and reasonable all the time, even when I don’t act on it. Can you believe that?

      GLORIA. Believe it! Why, that’s myself — myself all over. I know what’s right and dignified СКАЧАТЬ