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

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СКАЧАТЬ the landlady, “that I would do such a thing. Oh dear! and one of my yellow chairs too. It’s too bad.”

      “You must have done it: there was nobody else in the room. Be off: and get the coffee.

      “I did not do it,” said Mrs Simpson, raising her voice; “and well you know it. And I would be thankful to you to make up your mind whether you are to be in or out when people call, and not be making a liar of me as you did before this gentleman.”

      “You are a liar ready made, and a slattern to boot,” retorted Jack. “Look at the state of this room.”

      “Ah,” said Mrs. Simpson, with a sniff. “Look at it indeed. I ask your pardon, sir,” she added, turning to Charlie, “but what would anybody think of me if they was told that this was my drawing room?”

      Jack, his attention thus recalled to his guest, checked himself on the verge of a fresh outburst, and pointed to the door. Mrs. Simpson looked at him scornfully, but went out without further ado. Jack then seized a chair by the back, shook its contents on to the floor, and sat down near Charlie.

      “I should not have spoken as I did just now,” he said, with compunction. “Let me give you a word of advice, Charles. Never live in the house with an untidy woman.”

      “It must be an awful nuisance, Mr Jack.”

      “It is sure to lead to bad habits in yourself. How is your sister, and your father?”

      “Mary is just the same as ever; and so is the governor. I was with him at Birmingham last autumn. We heard the Prometheus. By Jove, Mr Jack, that is something to listen to! The St Matthew Passion, the Ninth Symphony, and the Nibelung’s Ring, are the only works that are fit to be put behind it. The overture alone is something screeching.”

      “You like it? That’s right, that’s right. And what are you doing at present? Working hard, eh?”

      “The old story, Mr Jack. I have failed in everything just as I failed at the music, though I stuck to that better than any of the rest, whilst I had you to help me.”

      “You began everything too young. No matter. There is plenty of time yet. Well, well. What’s the news?”

      “I’m going to an at-home at Madge Lancaster’s — the actress, you know. She made me promise I’d call on my way and mention casually where I was going. She thought that you’d perhaps come with me — at least I expect that was her game.”

      “She, asked me to come some Sunday; and I told her I would. Is this Sunday?”

      “Yes, Mr. Jack, I hope you won’t think it cool of me helping her to collar you in this way.”

      Jack made some inarticulate reply; pulled his coat off; and began to throw about the clothes which were heaped on the chairs. Presently he rang the bell furiously, and, after waiting for about twenty seconds for a response, went to the door and shouted for Mrs Simpson in a stunning voice. This had no more effect than the bell; and he returned, muttering execrations, to resume his search. When he had added considerably to the disorder, Mrs Simpson entered with ostentatious unconcern, carrying a tray with coffee and rolls.

      “Where would you wish me to put these things, sir?” she said with a patient air, after looking in vain for a vacant space on the pianoforte.

      “What things? What do you mean by bringing them? Who asked for them?

      “You did, Mr Jack. Perhaps a you would like to deny it to this gentleman’s face, who heard you give the order.”

      “Oh!” said Jack, discomfited. “Charles: will you take some coffee whilst I am dressing. Put the tray on the floor if you can’t find room for it elsewhere.”

      Mrs Simpson immediately placed it at Charlie’s feet.

      “Now,” said Jack, looking malignantly at her, “be so good as to find my coat for me; and in future, when I leave it in a particular place, don’t take it away from there.”

      “Yes, sir. And where did you leave it last, if I may make bold to ask?”

      “I left it on that chair,” said Jack violently. “Do you see? On that chair.”

      “Indeed,” said Mrs. Simpson, with open scorn. “You gave it out to me yesterday to brush; and a nice job I have had with it: it took a whole bottle of benzine to fetch out the stains. It’s upstairs in your room; and I beg you will be more careful with it in future, or else send it to the dyers to be cleaned instead of to me. Shall I bring it to you?”

      “No. Go to the — go to the kitchen; and hold your tongue. Charlie: I shall be back presently, my boy, if you will wait. And take some coffee. Put the tray anywhere. Confound that — that — that — that woman.” He left the room then, and after some time reappeared in a clean shirt and a comparatively respectable black frock coat.

      “Where does she live?” he said.

      “In the Marylebone Road. Her athomes are great fun. Her sisters don’t consider it proper for a young unmarried woman to give athomes on her own hook; and so they never go. I believe they would cut her altogether, only they can’t afford to, because she gives them a new dress occasionally. It will be a regular swagger for me to go in with you. Next to being a celebrity oneself, the best thing is to know a celebrity.”

      Jack only grunted, and allowed Charlie to talk until they arrived at the house in the Marylebone Road. The door was opened by a girl in a neat dress of dark green, with a miniature mob-cap on her head.

      “I feel half inclined to ask her for a programme, and tip her sixpence,” whispered Charlie, as they followed her upstairs. “We may consider that she is conducting us to our stalls. Mr Jack and Mr Charles Sutherland,” he added aloud to the girl as they reached the landing.

      Mr Sutherland and Mr Charles Sutherland,” she answered, coldly correcting him.

      Jack, meanwhile had advanced to where Madge stood. She wore a dress of pale blue velvet, made in Venetian style imitated from old Paul Veronese. Round her neck was a threefold string of amber beads, and she was shod with slippers of the same hue and material as her dress. Her complexion, skilfully put on, did not disgust Charlie, but rather inspired him with a gentle regret that it was too good to be genuine. The arrangement of the room was as remarkable as the costume of the hostess. The folding doors had been removed, and the partition built into an arch with a white pillar at each side. A curtain of silvery plush was gathered to one of side of this arch. The walls were painted a delicate sheeny grey, and the carpet resembled a piece of thick whitey-brown paper. The chairs of unvarnished wood, had rush seats, or else cushions of dull straw color or cinnamon. In compliance with a freak of fashion which prevailed just then, there were no less than eight lamps distributed about the apartments. These lamps had monstrous stems of pottery ware, gnarled and uncouth in design. Most of them represented masses of rock with strings of ivy leaves clinging to them. The ceiling was of a light maize color.

      Magdalen, surprised by the announcement of Mr Sutherland, was looking towards the door for him over the head of Jack, than whom she was nearly a head taller.

      “How d’ye do?” he said, startling her with his brassy voice.

      “My dear master,” she exclaimed, in the pure, distinct tone to which she owed much of her success on the stage. “So you have come to me at last.”

      “Aye, СКАЧАТЬ