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

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СКАЧАТЬ Phil with an attempt at genial fatherliness). Come along, my boy, come along. (He goes.)

      PHILIP (cheerily, following him). Coming, dad, coming. (On the window threshold, he stops; looking after Crampton; then turns fantastically with his bat bent into a halo round his head, and says with a lowered voice to Mrs. Clandon and Gloria) Did you feel the pathos of that? (He vanishes.)

      MRS. CLANDON (left alone with Gloria). Why did Mr. Valentine go away so suddenly, I wonder?

      GLORIA (petulantly). I don’t know. Yes, I d o know. Let us go and see the dancing. (They go towards the window, and are met by Valentine, who comes in from the garden walking quickly, with his face set and sulky.)

      VALENTINE (stiffly). Excuse me. I thought the party had quite broken up.

      GLORIA (nagging). Then why did you come back?

      VALENTINE. I came back because I am penniless. I can’t get out that way without a five shilling ticket.

      MRS. CLANDON. Has anything annoyed you, Mr. Valentine?

      GLORIA. Never mind him, mother. This is a fresh insult to me: that is all.

      MRS. CLANDON (hardly able to realize that Gloria is deliberately provoking an altercation). Gloria!

      VALENTINE. Mrs. Clandon: have I said anything insulting? Have I done anything insulting?

      GLORIA. you have implied that my past has been like yours. That is the worst of insults.

      VALENTINE. I imply nothing of the sort. I declare that my past has been blameless in comparison with yours.

      MRS. CLANDON (most indignantly). Mr. Valentine!

      VALENTINE. Well, what am I to think when I learn that Miss Clandon has made exactly the same speeches to other men that she has made to me — when I hear of at least five former lovers, with a tame naval lieutenant thrown in? Oh, it’s too bad.

      MRS. CLANDON. But you surely do not believe that these affairs — mere jokes of the children’s — were serious, Mr. Valentine?

      VALENTINE. Not to you — not to her, perhaps. But I know what the men felt. (With ludicrously genuine earnestness.) Have you ever thought of the wrecked lives, the marriages contracted in the recklessness of despair, the suicides, the — the — the —

      GLORIA (interrupting him contemptuously). Mother: this man is a sentimental idiot. (She sweeps away to the fireplace.)

      MRS. CLANDON (shocked). Oh, my d e a r e s t Gloria, Mr. Valentine will think that rude.

      VALENTINE. I am not a sentimental idiot. I am cured of sentiment for ever. (He sits down in dudgeon.)

      MRS. CLANDON. Mr. Valentine: you must excuse us all. Women have to unlearn the false good manners of their slavery before they acquire the genuine good manners of their freedom. Don’t think Gloria vulgar (Gloria turns, astonished): she is not really so.

      GLORIA. Mother! You apologize for me to h i m!

      MRS. CLANDON. My dear: you have some of the faults of youth as well as its qualities; and Mr. Valentine seems rather too old fashioned in his ideas about his own sex to like being called an idiot. And now had we not better go and see what Dolly is doing? (She goes towards the window. Valentine rises.)

      GLORIA. Do you go, mother. I wish to speak to Mr. Valentine alone.

      MRS. CLANDON (startled into a remonstrance). My dear! (Recollecting herself.) I beg your pardon, Gloria. Certainly, if you wish. (She bows to Valentine and goes out.)

      VALENTINE. Oh, if your mother were only a widow! She’s worth six of you.

      GLORIA. That is the first thing I have heard you say that does you honor.

      VALENTINE. Stuff! Come: say what you want to say and let me go.

      GLORIA. I have only this to say. You dragged me down to your level for a moment this afternoon. Do you think, if that had ever happened before, that I should not have been on my guard — that I should not have known what was coming, and known my own miserable weakness?

      VALENTINE (scolding at her passionately). Don’t talk of it in that way. What do I care for anything in you but your weakness, as you call it? You thought yourself very safe, didn’t you, behind your advanced ideas! I amused myself by upsetting t h e m pretty easily.

      GLORIA (insolently, feeling that now she can do as she likes with him). Indeed!

      VALENTINE. But why did I do it? Because I was being tempted to awaken your heart — to stir the depths in you. Why was I tempted? Because Nature was in deadly earnest with me when I was in jest with her. When the great moment came, who was awakened? who was stirred? in whom did the depths break up? In myself — m y s e l f: I was transported: you were only offended — shocked. You were only an ordinary young lady, too ordinary to allow tame lieutenants to go as far as I went. That’s all. I shall not trouble you with conventional apologies. Goodbye. (He makes resolutely for the door.)

      GLORIA. Stop. (He hesitates.) Oh, will you understand, if I tell you the truth, that I am not making an advance to you?

      VALENTINE. Pooh! I know what you’re going to say. You think you’re not ordinary — that I was right — that you really have those depths in your nature. It flatters you to believe it. (She recoils.) Well, I grant that you are not ordinary in some ways: you are a clever girl (Gloria stifles an exclamation of rage, and takes a threatening step towards him); but you’ve not been awakened yet. You didn’t care: you don’t care. It was my tragedy, not yours. Goodbye. (He turns to the door. She watches him, appalled to see him slipping from her grasp. As he turns the handle, he pauses; then turns again to her, offering his hand.) Let us part kindly.

      GLORIA (enormously relieved, and immediately turning her back on him deliberately.) Goodbye. I trust you will soon recover from the wound.

      VALENTINE (brightening up as it flashes on him that he is master of the situation after all). I shall recover: such wounds heal more than they harm. After all, I still have my own Gloria.

      GLORIA (facing him quickly). What do you mean?

      VALENTINE. The Gloria of my imagination.

      GLORIA (proudly). Keep your own Gloria — the Gloria of your imagination. (Her emotion begins to break through her pride.) The real Gloria — the Gloria who was shocked, offended, horrified — oh, yes, quite truly — who was driven almost mad with shame by the feeling that all her power over herself had been broken down at her first real encounter with — with — (The color rushes over her face again. She covers it with her left hand, and puts her right on his left arm to support herself.)

      VALENTINE. Take care. I’m losing my senses again. (Summoning all her courage, she takes away her hand from her face and puts it on his right shoulder, turning him towards her and looking him straight in the eyes. He begins to protest agitatedly.) Gloria: be sensible: it’s no use: I haven’t a penny in the world.

      GLORIA. Can’t you earn one? Other people do.

      VALENTINE (half delighted, half frightened). I never could — you’d be unhappy — My dearest love: I should be the merest fortune-hunting adventurer if — (Her grip on his arms tightens; and she kisses him.) Oh, Lord! (Breathless.) Oh, I — СКАЧАТЬ