Chapter 8

MARY STEWART. Och! be quiet now; I would be listening till the last sound of it passes into the great hills and over all the wide world.--It is fitting for you to be crying, a child that cannot understand; but water shall never wet eye of mine for Dugald Stewart. Last night I was but the mother of a lad that herded sheep on the Athole hills: this morn it is I that am the mother of a man who is among the great ones of the earth. All over the land they will be telling of Dugald Stewart. Mothers will teach their children to be men by him. High will his name be with the teller of fine tales.--The great men came, they came in their pride, terrible like the storm they were, and cunning with words of guile were they. Death was with them.... He was but a lad, a young lad, with great length of days before him, and the grandeur of the world. But he put it all from him. "Speak," said they, "speak, and life and great riches will be for yourself." But he said no word at all! Loud was the swelling of their wrath! Let the heart of you rejoice, Morag Cameron, for the snow is red with his blood. There are things greater than death. Let them that are children shed the tears.

(_She comes forward and lays her hand on the girl's shoulder._)

MARY STEWART. Let us go and lift him into the house, and not be leaving him lie out there alone.

[CURTAIN]

THE SUN[1]

John Glasworthy

SCENE: A GIRL sits crouched over her knees on a stile close to a river. A MAN with a silver badge stands beside her clutching the worn top plank. THE GIRL'S level brows are drawn together; her eyes see her memories. THE MAN'S eyes see THE GIRL; he has a dark, twisted face. The bright sun shines; the quiet river flows; the cuckoo is calling; the mayflower is in bloom along the hedge that ends in the stile on the towing-path.

[Footnote 1: From _Scribner's Magazine_, May, 1919. Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons; included by special permission of the writer and publishers.]

THE GIRL. God knows what 'e'll say, Jim.

THE MAN. Let 'im. 'E's come too late, that's all.

THE GIRL. He couldn't come before. I'm frightened. 'E was fond o' me.

THE MAN. And aren't I fond of you? My Gawd!

THE GIRL. I ought to 'a' waited, Jim; with 'im in the fightin'.

THE MAN (_passionately_). And what about me? Aren't I been in the fightin'--earned all I could get?

THE GIRL (_touching him_). Ah!

THE MAN. Did you--

(_He cannot speak the words._)

THE GIRL. Not like you, Jim--not like you.

THE MAN. 'Ave a spirit, then.

THE GIRL. I promised 'im.

THE MAN. One man's luck'a another's poison. I've seen it.

THE GIRL. I ought to 'a' waited. I never thought 'e'd come back from the fightin'.

THE MAN (_grimly_). Maybe 'e'd better not 'ave.

THE GIRL (_looking back along the tow-path_). What'll 'e be like, I wonder?

THE MAN (_gripping her shoulder_). Daise, don't you never go back on me, or I should kill you, and 'im too.

(THE GIRL _looks at him, shivers, and puts her lips to his._)

THE GIRL. I never could.

THE MAN. Will you run for it? 'E'd never find us.

(THE GIRL _shakes her head._)

THE MAN (_dully_). What's the good o' stayin'? The world's wide.

THE GIRL. I'd rather have it off me mind, with him 'ome.

THE MAN (_clenching his hands_). It's temptin' Providence.

THE GIRL. What's the time, Jim?

THE MAN (_glancing at the sun_). 'Alf past four.

THE GIRL (_looking along the towing-path_). 'E said four o'clock. Jim, you better go.

THE MAN. Not I. _I've_ not got the wind up. I've seen as much of hell as he has, any day. What like is he?

THE GIRL (_dully_). I dunno, just. I've not seen 'im these three years. I dunno no more, since I've known you.

THE MAN. Big, or little chap?

THE GIRL. 'Bout your size. Oh! Jim, go along!

THE MAN. No fear! What's a blighter like that to old Fritz's shells? We didn't shift when they was comin'. If you'll go, I'll go; not else.

(_Again she shakes her head._)

THE GIRL. Jim, do you love me true? (_For answer_, THE MAN _takes her avidly in his arms._) I ain't ashamed--I ain't ashamed. If 'e could see me 'eart.

THE MAN. Daise! If I'd known you out there I never could 'a' stuck it. They'd 'a' got me for a deserter. That's 'ow I love you!

THE GIRL. Jim, don't lift your 'and to 'im. Promise!

THE MAN. That's according.

THE GIRL. Promise!

THE MAN. If 'e keeps quiet, I won't. But I'm not accountable--not always, I tell you straight--not since I've been through that.

THE GIRL (_with a shiver_). Nor p'r'aps 'e isn't.

THE MAN. Like as not. It takes the lynchpins out, I tell you.

THE GIRL. God 'elp us!

THE MAN (_grimly_). Ah! We said that a bit too often. What we want, we take, now; there's no one to give it us, and there's no fear'll stop us; we seen the bottom o' things.

THE GIRL. P'r'aps 'e'll say that too.

THE MAN. Then it'll be 'im or me.

THE GIRL. I'm frightened.

THE MAN (_tenderly_). No, Daise, no! (_He takes out a knife._) The river's 'andy. One more or less. 'E shan't 'arm you; nor me neither.

THE GIRL (_seizing his hand_). Oh! no! Give it to me, Jim!

THE MAN (_smiling_). No fear! (_He puts it away._) Shan't 'ave no need for it, like as not. All right, little Daise; you can't be expected to see things like what we do. What's a life, anyway? I've seen a thousand taken in five minutes. I've seen dead men on the wires like flies on a fly-paper; I've been as good as dead meself an 'undred times. I've killed a dozen men. It's nothin'. 'E's safe, if 'e don't get my blood up. If 'e does, nobody's safe; not 'im, nor anybody else; not even you. I'm speakin' sober.

THE GIRL (_softly_). Jim, you won't go fightin', wi' the sun out and the birds all callin'?

THE MAN. That depends on 'im. I'm not lookin' for it. Daise, I love you. I love your eyes. I love your hair. I love you.

THE GIRL. And I love you, Jim. I don't want nothin' more than you in the whole world.

THE MAN. Amen to that, my dear. Kiss me close!

(_The sound of a voice singing breaks in on their embrace._ THE GIRL _starts from his arms and looks behind her along the towing-path._ THE MAN _draws back against the hedge, fingering his side, where the knife is hidden. The song comes nearer._)

I'll be right there to-night Where the fields are snowy white; Banjos ringin', darkies singin'-- All the world seems bright.

THE GIRL. It's 'im!

THE MAN. Don't get the wind up, Daise. I'm here!

(_The singing stops. A man's voice says: Christ! It's Daise; it's little Daise 'erself_! THE GIRL _stands rigid. The figure of a soldier appears on the other side of the stile. His cap is tucked into his belt, his hair is bright in the sunshine; he is lean, wasted, brown, and laughing._)

SOLDIER. Daise! Daise! Hallo, old pretty girl!

(THE GIRL _does not move, barring the way, as it were._)

THE GIRL. Hallo, Jack! (_Softly_) I got things to tell you.

SOLDIER. What sort o' things, this lovely day? Why, I got things that'd take me years to tell. 'Ave you missed me, Daise?

THE GIRL. You been so long.

SOLDIER. So I 'ave. My Gawd! It's a way they 'ave in the Army. I said when I got out of it I'd laugh. Like as the sun itself I used to think of you, Daise, when the crumps was comin' over, and the wind was up. D' you remember that last night in the wood? "Come back, and marry me quick, Jack!" Well, 'ere I am--got me pass to 'eaven. No more fightin', an' trampin,' no more sleepin" rough. We can get married now, Daise. We can live soft an' 'appy. Give us a kiss, old pretty.

THE GIRL (_drawing back_). No.

SOLDIER (_blankly_). Why not?

(THE MAN, _with a swift movement, steps along the hedge to_ THE GIRL'S _side._)

THE MAN. That's why, soldier.

SOLDIER (_leaping over the stile_). 'Oo are you, Pompey? The sun don't shine in your inside, do it? 'Oo is 'e, Daise?

THE GIRL. My man.

SOLDIER. Your--man! Lummy! "Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief"! Well, soldier? So you've been through it, too. I'm laughin' this mornin', as luck will 'ave it. Ah! I can see your knife.

THE MAN (_who has half drawn his knife_). Don't laugh at _me_, I tell you.

SOLDIER. Not at you, soldier, not at you. (_He looks from one to the other._) I'm laughin' at things in general. Where did you get it, soldier?

THE MAN (_watchfully_). Through the lung.

SOLDIER. Think o' that! An' I never was touched. Four years an' never was touched. An' so you've come an' took my girl. Nothin' doin'! Ha! (_Again he looks from one to the other--then away._) Well! The world's before me. (_He laughs._) I'll give you Daise for a lung protector.

THE MAN (_fiercely_). You won't. I've took her.

SOLDIER. That's all right, then. You keep 'er. I've got a laugh in me you can't put out, black as you are! Good-bye, little Daise!

(THE GIRL _makes a movement toward him._)

THE MAN. Don't touch 'im!

(THE GIRL _stands hesitating, and suddenly bursts into tears._)

SOLDIER. Look 'ere, soldier; shake 'ands! I don't want to see a girl cry, this day of all, with the sun shinin'. I seen too much o' sorrer. You an' me've been at the back of it. We've 'ad our whack. Shake!

THE MAN. Who are you kiddin'? You never loved 'er!

SOLDIER. Oh! I thought I did.

THE MAN (_fiercely_). I'll fight you for her.

(_He drops his knife._)

SOLDIER (_slowly_). Soldier, you done your bit, an' I done mine. It's took us two ways, seemin'ly.

THE GIRL (_pleading_). Jim!

THE MAN (_with clenched fists_). I don't want 'is charity. I only want what I can take.

SOLDIER. Daise, which of us will you 'ave?

THE GIRL (_covering her face_). Oh! _Him._

SOLDIER. You see, soldier! Drop your 'ands, now. There's nothin' for it but a laugh. You an' me know that. Laugh, soldier!

THE MAN. You blarsted--

(THE GIRL _springs to him and stops his mouth._)

SOLDIER. It's no use, soldier. I can't do it. I said I'd laugh to-day, and laugh I will. I've come through that, an' all the stink of it; I've come through sorrer. Never again! Cheer-o, mate! The sun's shinin'!

(_He turns away._)

THE GIRL. Jack, don't think too 'ard of me!

SOLDIER (_looking back_). No fear, old pretty girl! Enjoy your fancy! So long! Gawd bless you both!

(_He sings and goes along the path, and the song_--

I'll be right there to-night Where the fields are snowy white; Banjos ringin', darkies singin'-- All the world seems bright!--

_fades away._)

THE MAN. 'E's mad.

THE GIRL (_looking down the path, with her hands clasped_). The sun 'as touched 'im, Jim!

[CURTAIN]

THE KNAVE OF HEARTS[1]

Louise Saunders

[Footnote 1: This play is fully protected by copyright and may be used only with the written permission of, and the payment of royalty to, Norman Lee Swartout, Summit, New Jersey. Included by permission of the author and Mr. Swartout.]

CHARACTERS

THE MANAGER BLUE HOSE YELLOW HOSE 1ST HERALD 2D HERALD POMPDEBILE THE EIGHTH, KING OF HEARTS (pronounced Pomp-_di_biley) THE CHANCELLOR THE KNAVE OF HEARTS URSULA THE LADY VIOLETTA SIX LITTLE PAGES

(THE MANAGER _appears before the curtain in doublet and hose. He carries a cap with a long, red feather._)

THE MANAGER (_bowing deeply_). Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to hear the truth of an old legend that has persisted wrongly through the ages, the truth that, until now, has been hid behind the embroidered curtain of a rhyme, about the Knave of Hearts, who was no knave but a very hero indeed. The truth, you will agree with me, gentlemen and most honored ladies, is rare! It is only the quiet, unimpassioned things of nature that seem what they are. Clouds rolled in massy radiance against the blue, pines shadowed deep and darkly green, mirrored in still waters, the contemplative mystery of the hills--these things which exist, absorbed but in their own existence--these are the perfect chalices of truth.

But we, gentlemen and thrice-honored ladies, flounder about in a tangled net of prejudice, of intrigue. We are blinded by conventions, we are crushed by misunderstanding, we are distracted by violence, we are deceived by hypocrisy, until only too often villains receive the rewards of nobility and the truly great-hearted are suspected, distrusted, and maligned.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, for the sake of justice and also, I dare to hope, for your approval, I have taken my puppets down from their dusty shelves. I have polished their faces, brushed their clothes, and strung them on wires, so that they may enact for you this history.

(_He parts the curtains, revealing two_ PASTRY COOKS _in flaring white caps and spotless aprons leaning over in stiff profile, their wooden spoons, three feet long, pointing rigidly to the ceiling. They are in one of the kitchens of_ POMPDEBILE THE EIGHTH, KING OF HEARTS. _It is a pleasant kitchen, with a row of little dormer windows and a huge stove, adorned with the crest of_ POMPDEBILE--_a heart rampant, on a gold shield._)

THE MANAGER. You see here, ladies and gentlemen, two pastry cooks belonging to the royal household of Pompdebile the Eighth--Blue Hose and Yellow Hose, by name. At a signal from me they will spring to action, and as they have been made with astonishing cleverness, they will bear every semblance of life. Happily, however, you need have no fear that, should they please you, the exulting wine of your appreciation may go to their heads--their heads being but things of wire and wood; and happily, too, as they are but wood and wire, they will be spared the shame and humiliation that would otherwise be theirs should they fail to meet with your approval.

The play, most honored ladies and gentlemen, will now begin.

(_He claps his hands. Instantly the two_ PASTRY COOKS _come to life._ THE MANAGER _bows himself off the stage._)

BLUE HOSE. Is everything ready for this great event?

YELLOW HOSE. Everything. The fire blazing in the stove, the Pages, dressed in their best, waiting in the pantry with their various jars full of the finest butter, the sweetest sugar, the hottest pepper, the richest milk, the--

BLUE HOSE. Yes, yes, no doubt. (_Thoughtfully_) It is a great responsibility, this that they have put on our shoulders.

YELLOW HOSE. Ah, yes. I have never felt more important.

BLUE HOSE. Nor I more uncomfortable.

YELLOW HOSE. Even on the day, or rather the night, when I awoke and found myself famous--I refer to the time when I laid before an astonished world my creation, "Humming birds' hearts souffle, au vin blanc"--I did not feel more important. It is a pleasing sensation!

BLUE HOSE. I like it not at all. It makes me dizzy, this eminence on which they have placed us. The Lady Violetta is slim and fair. She does not, in my opinion, look like the kind of person who is capable of making good pastry. I have discovered through long experience that it is the heaviest women who make the lightest pastry, and _vice versa._ Well, then, suppose that she does not pass this examination--suppose that her pastry is lumpy, white like the skin of a boiled fowl.

YELLOW HOSE. Then, according to the law of the Kingdom of Hearts, we must condemn it, and the Lady Violetta cannot become the bride of Pompdebile. Back to her native land she will be sent, riding a mule.

BLUE HOSE. And she is so pretty, so exquisite! What a law! What an outrageous law!

YELLOW HOSE. Outrageous law! How dare you! There is nothing so necessary to the welfare of the nation as our art. Good cooks make good tempers, don't they? Must not the queen set an example for the other women to follow? Did not our fathers and our grandfathers before us judge the dishes of the previous queens of hearts?

BLUE HOSE. I wish I were mixing the rolls for to-morrow's breakfast.

YELLOW HOSE. Bah! You are fit for nothing else. The affairs of state are beyond you.

(_Distant sound of trumpets._)

BLUE HOSE (_nervously_). What's that?

YELLOW HOSE. The King is approaching! The ceremonies are about to commence!

BLUE HOSE. Is everything ready?

YELLOW HOSE. I told you that everything was ready. Stand still; you are as white as a stalk of celery.

BLUE HOSE (_counting on his fingers_). Apples, lemons, peaches, jam--Jam! Did you forget jam?

YELLOW HOSE. Zounds, I did!

BLUE HOSE (_wailing_). We are lost!

YELLOW HOSE. She may not call for it.

(_Both stand very erect and make a desperate effort to appear calm._)

BLUE HOSE (_very nervous_). Which door? Which door?

YELLOW HOSE. The big one, idiot. Be still!

(_The sound of trumpets increases, and cries of "Make way for the King." Two_ HERALDS _come in and stand on either side of the door. The_ KING OF HEARTS _enters, followed by ladies and gentlemen of the court._ POMPDEBILE _is in full regalia, and very imposing indeed with his red robe bordered with ermine, his crown and sceptre. After him comes the_ CHANCELLOR, _an old man with a short, white beard. The_ KING _strides in a particularly kingly fashion, pointing his toes in the air at every step, toward his throne, and sits down. The_ KNAVE _walks behind him slowly. He has a sharp, pale face._)

POMPDEBILE (_impressively_). Lords and ladies of the court, this is an important moment in the history of our reign. The Lady Violetta, whom you love and respect--that is, I mean to say, whom the ladies love and the lords--er--respect, is about to prove whether or not she be fitted to hold the exalted position of Queen of Hearts, according to the law, made a thousand years ago by Pompdebile the Great, and steadily followed ever since. She will prepare with her own delicate, white hands a dish of pastry. This will be judged by the two finest pastry cooks in the land.

(BLUE HOSE _and_ YELLOW HOSE _bow deeply._)

If their verdict be favorable, she shall ride through the streets of the city on a white palfrey, garlanded with flowers. She will be crowned, the populace will cheer her, and she will reign by our side, attending to the domestic affairs of the realm, while we give our time to weightier matters. This of course you all understand is a time of great anxiety for the Lady Violetta. She will appear worried--(_To_ CHANCELLOR) The palfrey is in readiness, we suppose.

CHANCELLOR. It is, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. Garlanded with flowers?

CHANCELLOR. With roses, Your Majesty.

KNAVE (_bowing_). The Lady Violetta prefers violets, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. Let there be a few violets put in with the roses--er--We are ready for the ceremony to commence. We confess to a slight nervousness unbecoming to one of our station. The Lady Violetta, though trying at times, we have found--er--shall we say--er--satisfying?

KNAVE (_bowing_). Intoxicating, Your Majesty?

CHANCELLOR (_shortly_). His Majesty means nothing of the sort.

POMPDEBILE. No, of course not--er--The mule--Is that--did you--?

CHANCELLOR (_in a grieved tone_). This is hardly necessary. Have I ever neglected or forgotten any of your commands, Your Majesty?

POMPDEBILE. You have, often. However, don't be insulted. It takes a great deal of our time and it is most uninteresting.

CHANCELLOR (_indignantly_). I resign, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. Your thirty-seventh resignation will be accepted to-morrow. Just now it is our wish to begin at once. The anxiety that no doubt gathered in the breast of each of the seven successive Pompdebiles before us seems to have concentrated in ours. Already the people are clamoring at the gates of the palace to know the decision. Begin. Let the Pages be summoned.

KNAVE (_bowing_). Beg pardon, Your Majesty; before summoning the Pages, should not the Lady Violetta be here?

POMPDEBILE. She should, and is, we presume, on the other side of that door--waiting breathlessly.

(THE KNAVE _quietly opens the door and closes it._)

KNAVE (_bowing_). She is not, Your Majesty, on the other side of that door waiting breathlessly. In fact, to speak plainly, she is not on the other side of that door at all.

POMPDEBILE. Can that be true? Where are her ladies?

KNAVE. They are all there, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. Summon one of them.

(THE KNAVE _goes out, shutting the door. He returns, following_ URSULA, _who, very much frightened, throws herself at the_ KING'S _feet._)

POMPDEBILE. Where is your mistress?

URSULA. She has gone, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. Gone! Where has she gone?

URSULA. I do not know, Your Majesty. She was with us a while ago, waiting there, as you commanded.

POMPDEBILE. Yes, and then--speak.

URSULA. Then she started out and forbade us to go with her.

POMPDEBILE. The thought of possible divorce from us was more than she could bear. Did she say anything before she left?

URSULA (_trembling_). Yes, Your Majesty.

POMPDEBILE. What was it? She may have gone to self-destruction. What was it?

URSULA. She said--

POMPDEBILE. Speak, woman, speak.

URSULA. She said that Your Majesty--

POMPDEBILE. A farewell message! Go on.

URSULA (_gasping_). That Your Majesty was "pokey" and that she didn't intend to stay there any longer.

POMPDEBILE (_roaring_). _Pokey!!_

URSULA. Yes, Your Majesty, and she bade me call her when you came, but we can't find her, Your Majesty.

(_The_ PASTRY COOKS _whisper._ URSULA _is in tears._)

CHANCELLOR. This should not be countenanced, Your Majesty. The word "pokey" cannot be found in the dictionary. It is the most flagrant disrespect to use a word that is not in the dictionary in connection with a king.

POMPDEBILE. We are quite aware of that, Chancellor, and although we may appear calm on the surface, inwardly we are swelling, _swelling_, with rage and indignation.

KNAVE (_looking out the window_). I see the Lady Violetta in the garden. (_He goes to the door and holds it open, bowing._) The Lady Violetta is at the door, Your Majesty.

(_Enter the_ LADY VIOLETTA, _her purple train over her arm. She has been running._)

VIOLETTA. Am I late? I just remembered and came as fast as I could. I bumped into a sentry and he fell down. I didn't. That's strange, isn't it? I suppose it's because he stands in one position so long he--Why, Pompy dear, what's the matter? Oh, oh! (_Walking closer_) Your feelings are hurt!

POMPDEBILE. _Don't_ call us Pompy. It doesn't seem to matter to you whether you are divorced or not.

VIOLETTA (_anxiously_). Is that why your feelings are hurt?

POMPDEBILE. Our feelings are not hurt, not at all.

VIOLETTA. Oh, yes, they are, Pompdebile dear. I know, because they are connected with your eyebrows. When your feelings go down, up go your eyebrows, and when your feelings go up, they go down--always.

POMPDEBILE (_severely_). Where have you been?

VIOLETTA. I, just now?

POMPDEBILE. Just now, when you should have been outside that door waiting _breathlessly._

VIOLETTA. I was in the garden. Really, Pompy, you couldn't expect me to stay all day in that ridiculous pantry; and as for being breathless, it's quite impossible to be it unless one has been jumping or something.

POMPDEBILE. What were you doing in the garden?

VIOLETTA (_laughing_). Oh, it was too funny. I must tell you. I found a goat there who had a beard just like the Chancellor's--really it was quite remarkable, the resemblance--in other ways too. I took him by the horns and I looked deep into his eyes, and I said, "Chancellor, if you try to influence Pompy--"

POMPDEBILE (_shouting_). Don't call us Pompy.

VIOLETTA. Excuse me, Pomp--

(_Checking herself._)

KNAVE. And yet I think I remember hearing of an emperor, a great emperor, named Pompey.

POMPDEBILE. We know him not. Begin at once; the people are clamoring at the gates. Bring the ingredients.

(_The_ PASTRY COOKS _open the door, and, single file, six little boys march in, bearing large jars labeled butter, salt, flour, pepper, cinnamon, and milk. The_ COOKS _place a table and a large bowl and a pan in front of the_ LADY VIOLETTA _and give her a spoon. The six little boys stand three on each side._)

VIOLETTA. Oh, what darling little ingredients. May I have an apron, please?

(URSULA _puts a silk apron, embroidered with red hearts, on the_ LADY VIOLETTA.)

BLUE HOSE. We were unable to find a little boy to carry the pepper, My Lady. They all _would_ sneeze in such a disturbing way.

VIOLETTA. This is a perfectly controlled little boy. He hasn't sneezed once.