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

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СКАЧАТЬ my castanets.

      The Gadfly produces the castanets from his pocket, inviting Gemma’s attention sardonically to his servitude by a grimace.

      Zita takes them from him.

      GADFLY [aside to Gemma] I should be made to play them if I had fingers enough.

      ZITA. Felice, where are you going? Stay here: I’m going to sing. Soltykov, do you play the mandoline? I want my hands for the castanets. The bolero.

      Song and dance.

      GADFLY. Brava! Bravissima! [to Gemma] What would you not give to be able to do that? [He turns to Zita and puts the castanets in his pocket]

      SIGNORA GRASSINI. How delightful! What a gift! Even Signor Rivarez, who ran away from our greatest tenor, had to listen!

      GADFLY. Rapt! Spellbound!

      ZITA [to the Gadfly] I want something to drink after that. Take me in.

      GADFLY. Try Soltykov instead. I have business here.

      ZITA. You want to speak to that woman.

      GADFLY. Of course I do [lowering his voice] If you dare make a scene, I’ll hand you over to Soltykov altogether [aloud] Soltykov: Madame Reni wants you to take her in to supper.

      Soltykov takes her in, wounded and angry, but afraid to refuse. The guests follow, Signora Grassini bringing up the rear on a gentleman’s arm. Martini, Gemma, Grassini, and the Gadfly remain behind.

      GRASSINI. Now is our time for business. What news have you for us, Martini?

      MARTINI. Nothing, except that we are convinced in Genoa that it is too late for all this pamphleteering and scheming to undermine the influence of the Cardinal. Things have come to a head with a rush within the last fortnight. We all believe that a rising cannot be prevented now, even if we wanted to prevent it. Before the end of the month we shall be at it, hammer and tongs, on the barricades.

      GADFLY. Piff, paff, poof! [He rattles the castanets].

      GEMMA. In that case, this gentleman can be of no use to us.

      GADFLY [with mock affection] Dear lady!

      GEMMA. We must have men of action — earnest men.

      GRASSINI. Domenichino?

      GEMMA. Yes, Domenichino. But he is only one. He must stay here in command. Who is to undertake the distribution of the weapons?

      MARTINI. Where are they?

      GEMMA [looking mistrustfully at the Gadfly] I will not tell you just now.

      GADFLY. I will. They are hidden in the caves in the hills near Brisighella. They must be got out and distributed in the towns — in Brisighella itself first, under the Cardinal’s nose. Don’t send anyone you love, Signora Bolla. He’ll be killed — or taken, which comes to the same thing.

      GEMMA. We are not likely to send anyone who is not prepared for that. We all are, and we shall not find a man who is not loved by somebody.

      GADFLY. True, Signora: every pot finds its cover.

      Even I am adored by Zita.

      MARTINI. Where is the man who convoyed the weapons from Genoa to the caves?

      GRASSINI. Egad, yes. That was a man in a thousand.

      We have a splendid disguise for him. Passport and all complete.

      GADFLY. What is it?

      GRASSINI. An old Spanish pilgrim — a repentant brigand from the Sierras who killed his son and made a pilgrimage to Rome for absolution. He fell ill in Ancona last year; and one of our friends took him on board a trading-vessel out of charity, and set him down in Venice where he had friends. He left his papers with us to show his gratitude. In that disguise the man who convoyed the weapons for us could distribute them.

      GEMMA. Yes; he would do. Unfortunately, we don’t know him.

      MARTINI. Do you, Rivarez?

      GADFLY. Oh, a despicable fellow, I assure you, you wouldn’t like him, Signora.

      GEMMA. He did his work. He was a doer, not a scribbler and slanderer.

      GADFLY. How do you know?

      GEMMA. By his deeds. We will not think ill of a proved comrade to amuse you, Signor Rivarez.

      GRASSINI. Come, come! Business, business! Whom shall we send?

      MARTINI. Whom can we best spare, Signora Bolla?

      GADFLY. Me, me, me. There is no doubt about that.

      GEMMA. You must win our confidence first. I vote against your being sent.

      MARTINI. So do I.

      GRASSINI. Excuse me, Rivarez. But really so do I.

      GADFLY. You flatter me. I propose, then, as an alternative, that you send the man who convoyed the weapons from Genoa to the caves — the despicable fellow.

      GEMMA. I agree, if we can find him.

      MARTINI. Agreed!

      GRASSINI. Agreed.

      GADFLY. Carried nem con. He shall start the day after tomorrow.

      Signora Grassini runs from the house and hurries down to them.

      SIGNORA GRASSINI. Domenichino is arrested.

      They all rise in consternation.

      GADFLY. Our man must start tonight. Away with you and warn everybody.

      They hurry towards the house.

      SIGNORA BOLLA. [She stops — the rest go into the house] You must stay with me to send this man off.

      GEMMA. I!

      GADFLY. He goes to his death. Is he to have no kinder word at parting than mine?

      GEMMA. Is he a sentimentalist, then?

      GADFLY. Yes, a grovelling sentimentalist.

      GEMMA. What is his name?

      GADFLY. Arthur.

      GEMMA. Arthur!

      GADFLY. An English name.

      GEMMA. I know. I once knew someone of that name.

      GADFLY. Indeed?

      GEMMA. Do you know anything of his history?

      GADFLY. Nothing that would amuse you. The poor wretch has been kicked about the world, mostly in South America — beaten and maimed, shot and chased, half drowned, drudged and degraded and devil knows what — even slapped across the face.

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