THE ESSENTIAL GEORGE BERNARD SHAW COLLECTION. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ but a little more uncertain in his movements. Magdalen kissed him with graceful respect, as she would have kissed an actor engaged to impersonate her father for so many pounds a week. When he passed on and mingled with the crowd like any other visitor, she forgot him, and looked round for Jack. But he, in spite of his attempt to avoid Mr Brailsford, had just come face to face with him in a remote corner whither chance had led them both. Jack at once asked him how he did.

      “How de do,” said the old gentleman with nervous haste. “Glad to — I am sure.” Here he found his eyeglass, and was able to distinguish Jack’s features.

      “Sir,” said Jack: “I am an ill-mannered man on occasion; but perhaps you will overlook that and allow me to claim your acquaintance.”

      “Sir,” replied Brailsford, tremulously clasping his proffered hand: “I have always honored and admired men of genius, and protested against the infamous oppression to which the world subjects them. You may count upon me always.”

      “There was a time,” said Jack, with a glance at the maize-colored ceiling, “when neither of us would have believed that we should come to make two in a crowd of fashionable celebrities sitting round her footstool.”

      “She has made a proud position for herself, certainly. Thanks, as she always acknowledges, above all things to your guidance.”

      “Humph,” said Jack doubtfully. “I taught her to make the best of such vowels as there are left in our spoken language; but her furniture and her receptions are her own idea.”

      “They are the most ridiculous absurdities in London,” whispered Brailsford with sudden warmth. “To you, sir, I express my opinion without reserve. I come here because my presence may give a certain tone — a sanction — you understand me?” Jack nodded. “But I do not approve of such entertainments. I am at a loss to comprehend how the actress can so far forget the lady. This room is not respectable, Mr Jack: it is an outrage on taste and sensibility. However, it is not my choice: it is hers; and de gustibus non est disputandum. You will excuse my quoting my old school books. I never did so, sir, in my youth, when every fool’s mouth was full of scraps of Latin.”

      “There is a bad side to this sort of thing,” said Jack. “These fellows waste their time coming here; and she wastes her money on extravagances for them to talk about. But after all, there is a bad side to everything: she might indulge herself with worse follies. Now that she is her own mistress, we must all stand further off. Her affairs are not our business.”

      The old gentleman nodded several times in a melancholy manner. “There you have hit the truth, sir,” he said in a low voice. “We must all stand further off — I as well as others. A very just observation.”

      This dialogue, exceptionally long for a crowded afternoon reception in London, was interrupted by Magdalen coming to invite Jack to play, which he peremptorily refused to do, remarking that if the company were in a humor to listen to music, they had better go to church. The rebuff caused much disappointment; for Jack’s appearances in society, common as they had been during the season which preceded the first performance of Promethius, had since been very rare. Stories of his eccentricity and inaccessible solitude had passed from mouth to mouth until they became too stale to amuse or too exaggerated to be believed. His refusal to play was considered so characteristic that some of the guests withdrew at once in order that they might be the first to narrate the circumstances in artistic circles, which are more “at home” on Sundays than those of the more purely fashionable ones which have nothing particular to do on week days. Jack was about to go himself when the blue velvet sleeve touched his arm, and Magdalen whispered:

      “They will all go in a very few minutes now. Will you stay and let me have a moment with you alone? It is so long since I have had a word of advice from you.”

      Jack again looked suspiciously at her; but as she looked very pretty, he relented, saying good humoredly, “Get rid of them quickly, then. I have no time to waste waiting for them.”

      She set herself to get rid of them as well as she could, by pretending to mistake the purpose of men who came up to converse with her, and surprising them with effusive farewells. To certain guests with whom she did not stand on ceremony she confided her desire to clear the room; and they immediately conveyed her wishes to their intimate friends, besides setting an example to others by taking leave ostentatiously, or declaring in loud whispers that it was shamefully late; that dear Madge must be tired to death; and that they were full of remorse at having been induced by her delightful hospitality to stay so long. In fifteen minutes the company was reduced to five or six persons, who seemed to think, now that the crowd was over, that the time had come for enjoying themselves. A few of them, who knew each other, relaxed their ceremonious bearing; raised their voices; and entered into a discussion on theatrical topics in which they evidently expected Magdalen to join. The rest wandered about the rooms, and made the most of their opportunity of having a good look at the great actress and the great composer, who was standing at a window with his hands clasped behind him, frowning unapproachably. Mr Brailsford also remained; and he was the first to notice the air of exhaustion with which his daughter was mutely appealing to her superfluous guests.

      “My child,” he said: “are you fatigued?”

      “I am worn out,” she replied, in a whisper which reached the furthest corner of the room. “How I long to be alone!”

      “Why did you not tell me so before,” said Brailsford, offended. “I shall not trouble you any longer, Magdalen. Good evening.”

      “Hush,” she said, laying her arm caressingly on his, and speaking this time in a real whisper. “I meant that for the others. I want you to do something for me. Mr Jack is waiting to go with you; and I particularly want to speak to him alone — about a pupil. Could you slip away without his seeing you? Do, dear old daddy; for I may never have another chance of catching him in a good humor. Magdalen knew that her father would be jealous of having to leave before Jack unless she could contrive to make him do so of his own accord. The stratagem succeeded and Mr Brailsford left the room with precaution, glancing apprehensively at the musician, who still presented a stolid back view to the company. The group of talkers, warned by Madge’s penetrating whisper, submissively followed him, leaving only one young man who was anxious to go and did not know how to do it. She relieved him by giving him her hand, and expressing a hope that she should see him next Sunday, He promised earnestly, and departed.

      “Now,” said Jack, wheeling round the instant the door closed. “What can I do for you? Your few minutes have spun themselves out to twenty.”

      “Did they seem so very long?” she said, seating herself upon an ottoman and throwing her dress into graceful folds.

      “Yes,” said Jack, bluntly.

      “So they did to me. Won’t you sit down?”

      Jack pushed an oaken stool opposite to her with his foot, and sat upon it, much as, in a Scandinavian story, a dwarf might have sat at the feet of a princess. “Well, mistress,” he said. “Things have changed since I taught you. Eh?”

      “Some things have.”

      “You have become great; and so — in my small way — have I.”

      “I have become what you call great,” she said. But you have not changed. People have found out your greatness, that is all.”

      “Well said,” said Jack, approvingly. “They starved me long enough first, damn them. Used I to swear at you when I was teaching you?”

      “I think you used to. Just a little, СКАЧАТЬ