60 Plays: The George Bernard Shaw Edition (Illustrated). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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      JUDITH (sinking on the seat and clasping her hands). I hope he won’t come! Oh, I pray that he may not come!

      ANDERSON. Why? Don’t you want him to be warned?

      JUDITH. He must know his danger. Oh, Tony, is it wrong to hate a blasphemer and a villain? I do hate him! I can’t get him out of my mind: I know he will bring harm with him. He insulted you: he insulted me: he insulted his mother.

      ANDERSON (quaintly). Well, dear, let’s forgive him; and then it won’t matter.

      JUDITH. Oh, I know it’s wrong to hate anybody; but —

      ANDERSON (going over to her with humorous tenderness). Come, dear, you’re not so wicked as you think. The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that’s the essence of inhumanity. After all, my dear, if you watch people carefully, you’ll be surprised to find how like hate is to love. (She starts, strangely touched — even appalled. He is amused at her.) Yes: I’m quite in earnest. Think of how some of our married friends worry one another, tax one another, are jealous of one another, can’t bear to let one another out of sight for a day, are more like jailers and slave-owners than lovers. Think of those very same people with their enemies, scrupulous, lofty, selfrespecting, determined to be independent of one another, careful of how they speak of one another — pooh! haven’t you often thought that if they only knew it, they were better friends to their enemies than to their own husbands and wives? Come: depend on it, my dear, you are really fonder of Richard than you are of me, if you only knew it. Eh?

      JUDITH. Oh, don’t say that: don’t say that, Tony, even in jest. You don’t know what a horrible feeling it gives me.

      ANDERSON (Laughing). Well, well: never mind, pet. He’s a bad man; and you hate him as he deserves. And you’re going to make the tea, aren’t you?

      JUDITH (remorsefully). Oh yes, I forgot. I’ve been keeping you waiting all this time. (She goes to the fire and puts on the kettle.)

      ANDERSON (going to the press and taking his coat off). Have you stitched up the shoulder of my old coat?

      JUDITH. Yes, dear. (She goes to the table, and sets about putting the tea into the teapot from the caddy.)

      ANDERSON (as he changes his coat for the older one hanging on the press, and replaces it by the one he has just taken off). Did anyone call when I was out?

      JUDITH. No, only — (someone knocks at the door. With a start which betrays her intense nervousness, she retreats to the further end of the table with the tea caddy and spoon, in her hands, exclaiming) Who’s that?

      ANDERSON (going to her and patting her encouragingly on the shoulder). All right, pet, all right. He won’t eat you, whoever he is. (She tries to smile, and nearly makes herself cry. He goes to the door and opens it. Richard is there, without overcoat or cloak.) You might have raised the latch and come in, Mr. Dudgeon. Nobody stands on much ceremony with us. (Hospitably.) Come in. (Richard comes in carelessly and stands at the table, looking round the room with a slight pucker of his nose at the mezzotinted divine on the wall. Judith keeps her eyes on the tea caddy.) Is it still raining? (He shuts the door.)

      RICHARD. Raining like the very (his eye catches Judith’s as she looks quickly and haughtily up) — I beg your pardon; but (showing that his coat is wet) you see — !

      ANDERSON. Take it off, sir; and let it hang before the fire a while: my wife will excuse your shirtsleeves. Judith: put in another spoonful of tea for Mr. Dudgeon.

      RICHARD (eyeing him cynically). The magic of property, Pastor! Are even YOU civil to me now that I have succeeded to my father’s estate?

      Judith throws down the spoon indignantly.

      ANDERSON (quite unruffled, and helping Richard off with his coat). I think, sir, that since you accept my hospitality, you cannot have so bad an opinion of it. Sit down. (With the coat in his hand, he points to the railed seat. Richard, in his shirtsleeves, looks at him half quarrelsomely for a moment; then, with a nod, acknowledges that the minister has got the better of him, and sits down on the seat. Anderson pushes his cloak into a heap on the seat of the chair at the fire, and hangs Richard’s coat on the back in its place.)

      RICHARD. I come, sir, on your own invitation. You left word you had something important to tell me.

      ANDERSON. I have a warning which it is my duty to give you.

      RICHARD (quickly rising). You want to preach to me. Excuse me: I prefer a walk in the rain. (He makes for his coat.)

      ANDERSON (stopping him). Don’t be alarmed, sir; I am no great preacher. You are quite safe. (Richard smiles in spite of himself. His glance softens: he even makes a gesture of excuse. Anderson, seeing that he has tamed him, now addresses him earnestly.) Mr. Dudgeon: you are in danger in this town.

      RICHARD. What danger?

      ANDERSON. Your uncle’s danger. Major Swindon’s gallows.

      RICHARD. It is you who are in danger. I warned you —

      ANDERSON (interrupting him goodhumoredly but authoritatively). Yes, yes, Mr. Dudgeon; but they do not think so in the town. And even if I were in danger, I have duties here I must not forsake. But you are a free man. Why should you run any risk?

      RICHARD. Do you think I should be any great loss, Minister?

      ANDERSON. I think that a man’s life is worth saving, whoever it belongs to. (Richard makes him an ironical bow. Anderson returns the bow humorously.) Come: you’ll have a cup of tea, to prevent you catching cold?

      RICHARD. I observe that Mrs. Anderson is not quite so pressing as you are, Pastor.

      JUDITH (almost stifled with resentment, which she has been expecting her husband to share and express for her at every insult of Richard’s). You are welcome for my husband’s sake. (She brings the teapot to the fireplace and sets it on the hob.)

      RICHARD. I know I am not welcome for my own, madam. (He rises.) But I think I will not break bread here, Minister.

      ANDERSON (cheerily). Give me a good reason for that.

      RICHARD. Because there is something in you that I respect, and that makes me desire to have you for my enemy.

      ANDERSON. That’s well said. On those terms, sir, I will accept your enmity or any man’s. Judith: Mr. Dudgeon will stay to tea. Sit down: it will take a few minutes to draw by the fire. (Richard glances at him with a troubled face; then sits down with his head bent, to hide a convulsive swelling of his throat.) I was just saying to my wife, Mr. Dudgeon, that enmity — (she grasps his hand and looks imploringly at him, doing both with an intensity that checks him at once) Well, well, I mustn’t tell you, I see; but it was nothing that need leave us worse friend — enemies, I mean. Judith is a great enemy of yours.

      RICHARD. If all my enemies were like Mrs. Anderson I should be the best Christian in America.

      ANDERSON (gratified, patting her hand). You hear that, Judith? Mr. Dudgeon knows how to turn a compliment.

      The latch is lifted from without.

      JUDITH (starting). Who is that?

      Christy comes in.

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