The Collected Works of George Bernard Shaw: Plays, Novels, Articles, Letters and Essays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ may come out at any minute. Don’t let your carriage be seen stopping here.”

      “But I hardly like to leave you here alone and hurt.”

      “Never mind me: it serves me right. Besides, I’d rather you’d leave me, I would indeed.”

      She turned reluctantly toward the carriage, put her foot on the step, and looked back. He was gazing wistfully after her. “But it is inhuman!” she exclaimed, returning. “Come, monsieur, I dare not leave you in such a condition: it is the fault of my horse. I will bring you where you shall be taken care of until you are restored.”

      “It’s awfully good of you” he murmured, rising unsteadily and making his way to the carriage door, which he held whilst she got in. He followed, and was about to place himself bashfully on the front seat, when the coachman, illhumoredly using his whip, started the vehicle and upset him into the vacant space next Aurélie. He uttered an imprecation, and sat bolt upright for a moment. Then, sinking back against the cushion, and moving his hand until it touched her dress, he said drowsily, “It’s really mos’awfully good of you,” and fell asleep.

      He was aroused by a shaking which made his head ache. An old and ugly woman held him by one shoulder, and the coachman, cursing him for a besotted pig, was about to drag him out by the other. He started up and got out of the carriage, the two roughly saving him from stumbling forward. In spite of his protests that he could walk alone they pulled him indoors between them. He struggled to free himself, but the woman was too strong for him: he was hauled ignominiously into a decent room, where sofa had been prepared for him with a couple of rugs and a woman’s shawl. Here he was forced to lie down, and bidden to be quiet until the doctor came. The coachman, with a parting curse, then withdrew; and his voice, deferentially pitched, was audible as he reported what he had done to the lady without. There was another person speaking also; but she spoke in a tone of vehement remonstrance, and in a strange language.

      “Look here, ma’am,” said the young man from the sofa. “You needn’t trouble sending for a doctor. There’s nothing the matter with me.”

      “Silence, great sot,” chattered the old woman.”I have other things to do than to listen to thy gibberish. Lay thyself down this instant.”

      “Will I, by Jove!” he said, kicking off the rug and sitting up. “Can you buy soda water anywhere at this hour?”

      “Ah, ingrate! Is it thus that thou obeyest the noble lady who succored thee. Fie!”

      “What is the matter, madame,” said Aurélie, entering.

      “I was only asking her not to send for a doctor. I have no bones broken; and a doctor is no use. Please don’t fetch one. If I could have a little plain water — or even soda water — to drink, I should be all right.” Whilst he was speaking, an old lady appeared behind Aurélie. She seemed to suffer from a severe cold; for she had tied up her face in a red handkerchief, which gave her a grim aspect as she looked resentfully at him.

      “I shall bring you some drink,” said Aurélie quietly. “Mamma,” she added, turning to the older lady; “pray return to your bed. Your face will be swollen again if you stand in the draught. I have but to get this young gentleman what he asks for.”

      “The young gentleman has no business here,” said the lady. “You are imprudent, Aurélie, and frightfully self-willed.” She then disappeared. The stranger reddened and attempted to rise; but Aurélie, also blushing, quieted him by a gesture, whilst the old woman shook her fist at him. Aurélie then left the room, promising to return, and leaving him alone with the woman, who seized the opportunity to recommence her reproaches, which were too voluble to be intelligible to the English ears of the patient.

      “You may just as well hold your tongue,” he said, as she paused at last for a reply, “for I don’t understand a word you say.”

      “Say then, coquin,” repeated the woman, “what wert thou doing in the roadway there when thou gotst beneath the horse’s feet?”

      “Je m’ètais évanoui.”

      “How? Ah, I understand, But why? What brought thee to such a pass?”

      “N’ímporte. Cést pas convenable pour une juene femme d’entendre pareilles choses. That ought to fetch you if you can understand it.

      “Ah, thou mockst me. Knowest thou, profligate, that thou art in my apartment, and that I have the right to throw you through the door if I please? Eh?”

      “Votre discours se fait trés penible, ma mere. Voulez-vous avoir la bonté de shut up?”

      “What does that mean?” said the woman, checked by the unknown verb.

      ‘Oh, you are talking too much,” said Aurélie, returning with some soda water. “You must not encourage him to speak, madame.”

      “He needs little encouragement,” said the old woman. “You are far too good for him, mademoiselle.”

      “How do you feel now, monsieur? Better, I hope.”

      “Thanks very much: I feel quite happy. I have something to shew you. Just wait a—” Here he twisted himself round upon his elbow, and after some struggling with the rug and his coat, pulled from his breast pocket some old letters, which presently slipped from his hand and were scattered on the floor.

      “Sot,” cried the old woman, darting at them, and angrily pushing back the hand with which he was groping for them. “Here — put them up again. What has madame to do with thy letters, thinkst thou?”

      “Don’t you be in a hurry, Mrs. Jones,” he retorted confidently, beginning to fumble at the letters. “Where the — I’ll take my oath I had it this mor — oh, here it is. Did you ever see him before?” he asked triumphantly, handing a photograph to Aurélie.

      “Tiens! it is Adrian,” she exclaimed. “My husband,” she added, to the old woman, who received the explanation sardonically. “Are you then a friend of Monsieur Herbert?”

      “I have known him since I was a boy, “ said the youth. Aurélie smiled: she thought him a boy still. “But this was only taken last week,” she said. “I have only just received a copy for myself. Did he send it to you?”

      “My sister sent it to me. I suppose you know who I am now.”

      “No, truly, monsieur. I have seen you certainly; but I cannot recall your name.”

      “You’ve seen me at Phipson’s, talking to Mr. Jack. Can’t you guess?”

      Aurélie shook her head. The old woman, curious, but unable to follow a conversation carried on by one party in French and by the other in English, muttered impatiently, “What gibberish! It is a horror.”

      The youth looked shyly at Aurélie. “Then, as if struck by a new thought, he said, “My name is — Beatty.”

      Aurélie bowed. “Yes,” she said, “I have assuredly heard my husband speak of that name. I am greatly troubled to think that your misfortune should have been brought about by my carriage. Madame: Monsieur Beatty will need a pillow. Will you do me the kindness to bring one from my room?”

      Monsieur Beatty began to protest that he would prefer to remain as he was, but he was checked by a gesture from the woman, who silently СКАЧАТЬ