The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс Барри

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СКАЧАТЬ GEORGE. Oh, I was speaking of ladies’ dress. The fact is, Professor, I had not long been married when certain absurdities in connection with ladies’ dress were forcibly brought home to me.

      COSENS. And to me.

      SIR GEORGE. For instance: I ask you, Professor, as an unprejudiced outsider, how many yards of material do you think are required to make a dress for Lady Gilding?

      PROFESSOR. Four yards.

      SIR GEORGE. Nineteen yards.

      PROFESSOR. Impossible! Why, a large-sized dust cloth is only four yards.

      SIR GEORGE. Ah, you see my point exactly. But I was determined to show that it could be done with four yards, and I did it. I myself, Professor, superintended the making of a dress for Lady Gilding out of four yards, and presented it to her on her birthday. It was a perfect fit, Mildred?

      LADY GILDING. Yes, George.

      PROFESSOR. This is it? (Pointing to dress.)

      SIR GEORGE. Oh no, she never wears it. She looks upon my dress as sacred, don’t you, Mildred?

      LADY GILDING. Yes, George.

      (She crosses to DOWAGER, who enters, COSENS joins SIR GEORGE and the PROFESSOR.)

      Wherever have you been?

      DOWAGER. Seeing the horrid smelly laboratory with the Professor’s secretary.

      LADY GILDING. A red-haired man. I remember him.

      DOWAGER. No, a new secretary — a woman.

      LADY GILDING. What?

      DOWAGER. Yes, I thought so too at first, but it is all right; she’s the simplest little thing.

      SIR GEORGE. I assure you, it isn’t merely frocks. Take a lady’s hat, for instance — say, Mildred’s hat — excuse me, Mildred. (Takes off her hat.) Now, this is a large hat — how, I ask you, should that affect the cost?

      PROFESSOR. That should make it more expensive.

      SIR GEORGE. It should, but it does not. This is a comparatively cheap hat, because it is large. But — (Takes scissors from table and cuts at hat, puts scissors back on the table) — let us take away this ribbon and these feathers.

      LADY GILDING (horrified). George!

      SIR GEORGE. Excuse me, Mildred. The price of the hart; is now doubled.

      PROFESSOR. Bless my soul!

      SIR GEORGE. There is nothing left now but the straw and this bow. (Takes up scissors and cuts at hat.) I take away the straw.

      LADY GILDING. George!

      SIR GEORGE. Excuse me, Mildred. And there being nothing left now except the ribbon, the price of the hat — (Holding up bow of velvet) — becomes something appalling. And now, Mildred, we must go.

      (LADY GILDING ruefully arranges hat.)

      DOWAGER. I hope you will excuse us calling at this early hour, Professor, we were so anxious when we heard of your illness. You must dine with us tonight.

      LADY GILDING. Yes, indeed!

      PROFESSOR. It is — ah — very good of you, but —

      DOWAGER. No refusals. 8.30.

      LADY GILDING (holding out her hand to PROFESSOR). Goodbye, dear Professor.

      PROFESSOR. Goodbye, so glad you ‘re going — came, came.

      (sir george and lady gilding and dowager go. The professor sees them out and returns.)

      Very nice people, extraordinarily kind to me.

      COSENS. They seem very fond of you — especially the little Dowager.

      PROFESSOR. She is a charming woman — very cultured. It is remarkable how interested she is in electricity.

      COSENS (dryly). Is she now!

      PROFESSOR. She is of a very sympathetic nature.

      COSENS. I’m sure she is, but how do you know?

      PROFESSOR. She told me — at least, I think she did.

      COSENS. Remember, you ‘re dining with them tonight.

      PROFESSOR (hotly). I’m doing nothing of the sort.

      COSENS. I heard you promise.

      PROFESSOR (sighing). Did you? I didn’t mean to. I’m a muddle-head outside my work, and now I’m getting muddled even at it. I know what’s the matter with me, Doctor, my brain’s in a dry rot!

      COSENS. Well, a man can be quite happy without a brain. Sir George, for instance! But, perhaps, that is because he has a wife. Why don’t you marry?

      PROFESSOR. Marry! You vindictive fellow!

      COSENS. Ah, you were not such a woman-hater in our College days.

      PROFESSOR. Yes, I was always the same.

      COSENS. You remember the old lodgings in Edinburgh six flights up?

      PROFESSOR. And the bed, it was so small that I had to get up when you wanted to lie down.

      COSENS. Do you remember Jack Pettigrew? He married his landlady’s daughter.

      PROFESSOR. Oh, lots of them married their landlady’s daughters.

      COSENS. Fleming didn’t.

      PROFESSOR. No, he married his landlady.

      COSENS. Bob Sandeman died.

      PROFESSOR. Ah, but he wasn’t true to Agnes. It made a great difference to her.

      COSENS. But she’s got over it?

      PROFESSOR. I’m not quite sure.

      COSENS. There was Crichton, who took so many prizes that we all predicted he would become Lord Chancellor.

      PROFESSOR. Ned Crichton.

      COSENS. Where is he now?

      PROFESSOR. I think he is driving a cab in New York.

      COSENS. You were a gay dog in those days.

      PROFESSOR. I was nothing of the kind.

      COSENS. Don’t you remember that girl you kissed at McAuly’s graduation supper?

      PROFESSOR. I didn’t kiss her.

      COSENS. Yes, you did.

      PROFESSOR. No, I did not.

      COSENS. СКАЧАТЬ