Part 15

FRANCES TREBELL. Sometimes they've a queer way of expressing their love for the people of England.

MRS. FARRANT. But one must use democracy. Wellington wouldn't . . Disraeli did.

LADY DAVENPORT. [_At the door._] Good-night, Miss Trebell.

FRANCES TREBELL. I'm coming . . it's past eleven.

MRS. FARRANT. [_At the window._] What a gorgeous night! I'll come in and kiss you, Mamma.

FRANCES _follows_ LADY DAVENPORT _and_ MRS. FARRANT _starts across the lawn to the billiard room_ . . _An hour later you can see no change in the room except that only one lamp is alight on the table in the middle._ AMY O'CONNELL _and_ HENRY TREBELL _walk past one window and stay for a moment in the light of the other. Her wrap is about her shoulders. He stands looking down at her._

AMY O'CONNELL. There goes the moon . . it's quieter than ever now. [_She comes in._] Is it very late?

TREBELL. [_As he follows._] Half-past twelve.

TREBELL _is hard-bitten, brainy, forty-five and very sure of himself. He has a cold keen eye, which rather belies a sensitive mouth; hands which can grip, and a figure that is austere._

AMY O'CONNELL. I ought to be in bed. I suppose everyone has gone.

TREBELL. Early trains to-morrow. The billiard room lights are out.

AMY O'CONNELL. The walk has just tired me comfortably.

TREBELL. Sit down. [_She sits by the table. He sits by her and says with the air of a certain buyer at a market._] You're very pretty.

AMY O'CONNELL. As well here as by moonlight? Can't you see any wrinkles?

TREBELL. One or two . . under the eyes. But they give character and bring you nearer my age. Yes, Nature hit on the right curve in making you.

_She stretches herself cat-like._

AMY O'CONNELL. Praise is the greatest of luxuries, isn't it, Henry? . . Henry . . [_she caresses the name._]

TREBELL. Quite right . . Henry.

AMY O'CONNELL. Henry . . Trebell.

TREBELL. Having formally taken possession of my name . .

AMY O'CONNELL. I'll go to bed.

_His eyes have never moved from her. Now she breaks the contact and goes towards the door._

TREBELL. I wouldn't . . my spare time for love making is so limited.

_She turns back, quite at ease, her eyes challenging him._

AMY O'CONNELL. That's the first offensive thing you've said.

TREBELL. Why offensive?

AMY O'CONNELL. I may flirt. Making love's another matter.

TREBELL. Sit down and explain the difference . . Mrs. O'Connell.

_She sits down._

AMY O'CONNELL. Quite so. 'Mrs. O'Connell'. That's the difference.

TREBELL. [_Provokingly._] But I doubt if I'm interested in the fact that your husband doesn't understand you and that your marriage was a mistake . . and how hard you find it to be strong.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Kindly._] I'm not quite a fool though you think so on a three months' acquaintance. But tell me this . . what education besides marriage does a woman get?

TREBELL. [_His head lifting quickly._] Education . .

AMY O'CONNELL. Don't be business-like.

TREBELL. I beg your pardon.

AMY O'CONNELL. Do you think the things you like to have taught in schools are any use to one when one comes to deal with you?

TREBELL. [_After a little scrutiny of her face._] Well, if marriage is only the means to an end . . what's the end? Not flirtation.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_With an air of self-revelation._] I don't know. To keep one's place in the world, I suppose, one's self-respect and a sense of humour.

TREBELL. Is that difficult?

AMY O'CONNELL. To get what I want, without paying more than it's worth to me . . ?

TREBELL. Never to be reckless.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_With a side-glance._] One isn't so often tempted.

TREBELL. In fact . . to flirt with life generally. Now, what made your husband marry you?

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Dealing with the impertinence in her own fashion._] What would make you marry me? Don't say: Nothing on earth.

TREBELL. [_Speaking apparently of someone else._] A prolonged fit of idleness might make me marry . . a clever woman. But I've never been idle for more than a week. And I've never met a clever woman . . worth calling a woman.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Bringing their talk back to herself, and fastidiously._] Justin has all the natural instincts.

TREBELL. He's Roman Catholic, isn't he?

AMY O'CONNELL. So am I . . by profession.

TREBELL. It's a poor religion unless you really believe in it.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Appealing to him._] If I were to live at Linaskea and have as many children as God sent, I should manage to make Justin pretty miserable! And what would be left of me at all I should like to know?

TREBELL. So Justin lives at Linaskea alone?

AMY O'CONNELL. I'm told now there's a pretty housemaid . . [_she shrugs._]

TREBELL. Does he drink too?

AMY O'CONNELL. Oh, no. You'd like Justin, I daresay. He's clever. The thirteenth century's what he knows about. He has done a book on its statutes . . has been doing another.

TREBELL. And after an evening's hard work I find you here ready to flirt with.

AMY O'CONNELL. What have you been working at?

TREBELL. A twentieth century statute perhaps. That's not any concern of yours either.

_She does not follow his thought._

AMY O'CONNELL. No, I prefer you in your unprofessional moments.

TREBELL. Real flattery. I didn't know I had any.

AMY O'CONNELL. That's why you should flirt with me . . Henry . . to cultivate them. I'm afraid you lack imagination.

TREBELL. One must choose something to lack in this life.

AMY O'CONNELL. Not develop your nature to its utmost capacity.

TREBELL. And then?

AMY O'CONNELL. Well, if that's not an end in itself . . [_With a touch of romantic piety._] I suppose there's the hereafter.

TREBELL. [_Grimly material._] What, more developing! I watch people wasting time on themselves with amazement . . I refuse to look forward to wasting eternity.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Shaking her head._] You are very self-satisfied.

TREBELL. Not more so than any machine that runs smoothly. And I hope not self-conscious.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Rather attractively treating him as a child._] It would do you good to fall really desperately in love with me . . to give me the power to make you unhappy.

_He suddenly becomes very definite._

TREBELL. At twenty-three I engaged myself to be married to a charming and virtuous fool. I broke it off.

AMY O'CONNELL. Did she mind much?

TREBELL. We both minded. But I had ideals of womanhood that I wouldn't sacrifice to any human being. Then I fell in with a woman who seduced me, and for a whole year led me the life of a French novel . . played about with my emotion as I had tortured that other poor girl's brains. Education you'd call it in the one case as I called it in the other. What a waste of time!

AMY O'CONNELL. And what has become of your ideal?

TREBELL. [_Relapsing to his former mood._] It's no longer a personal matter.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_With coquetry._] You're not interested in my character?

TREBELL. Oh, yes, I am . . up to kissing point.

_She does not shrink, but speaks with just a shade of contempt._

AMY O'CONNELL. You get that far more easily than a woman. That's one of my grudges against men. Why can't women take love-affairs so lightly?

TREBELL. There are reasons. But make a good beginning with this one. Kiss me at once.

_He leans towards her. She considers him quite calmly._

AMY O'CONNELL. No.

TREBELL. When will you, then?

AMY O'CONNELL. When I can't help myself . . if that time ever comes.

TREBELL. [_Accepting the postponement in a business-like spirit._] Well . . I'm an impatient man.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Confessing engagingly._] I made up my mind to bring you within arms' length of me when we'd met at Lady Percival's. Do you remember? [_His face shows no sign of it._] It was the day after your speech on the Budget.

TREBELL. Then I remember. But I haven't observed the process.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Subtly._] Your sister grew to like me very soon. That's all the cunning there has been.

TREBELL. The rest is just mutual attraction?

AMY O'CONNELL. And opportunities.

TREBELL. Such as this.

_At the drop of their voices they become conscious of the silent house._

AMY O'CONNELL. Do you really think everyone has gone to bed?

TREBELL. [_Disregardful._] And what is it makes my pressing attentions endurable . . if one may ask?

AMY O'CONNELL. Some spiritual need or other, I suppose, which makes me risk unhappiness . . in fact, welcome it.

TREBELL. [_With great briskness._] Your present need is a good shaking . . I seriously mean that. You get to attach importance to these shades of emotion. A slight physical shock would settle them all. That's why I asked you to kiss me just now.

AMY O'CONNELL. You haven't very nice ideas, have you?

TREBELL. There are three facts in life that call up emotion . . Birth, Death, and the Desire for Children. The niceties are shams.

AMY O'CONNELL. Then why do you want to kiss me?

TREBELL. I don't . . seriously. But I shall in a minute just to finish the argument. Too much diplomacy always ends in a fight.

AMY O'CONNELL. And if I don't fight . . it'd be no fun for you, I suppose?

TREBELL. You would get that much good out of me. For it's my point of honour . . to leave nothing I touch as I find it.

_He is very close to her._

AMY O'CONNELL. You're frightening me a little . .

TREBELL. Come and look at the stars again. Come along.

AMY O'CONNELL. Give me my wrap . . [_He takes it up, but holds it._] Well, put it on me. [_He puts it round her, but does not withdraw his arms._] Be careful, the stars are looking at you.

TREBELL. No, they can't see so far as we can. That's the proper creed.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Softly, almost shyly._] Henry.

TREBELL. [_Bending closer to her._] Yes, pretty thing.

AMY O'CONNELL. Is this what you call being in love?

_He looks up and listens._

TREBELL. Here's somebody coming.

AMY O'CONNELL. Oh! . .

TREBELL. What does it matter?

AMY O'CONNELL. I'm untidy or something . .

_She slips out, for they are close to the window. The_ FOOTMAN _enters, stops suddenly_.

THE FOOTMAN. I beg your pardon, sir. I thought everyone had gone.

TREBELL. I've just been for a walk. I'll lock up if you like.

THE FOOTMAN. I can easily wait up, sir.

TREBELL. [_At the window._] I wouldn't. What do you do . . just slide the bolt?

THE FOOTMAN. That's all, sir.

TREBELL. I see. Good-night.

THE FOOTMAN. Good-night, sir.

_He goes._ TREBELL'S _demeanour suddenly changes, becomes alert, with the alertness of a man doing something in secret. He leans out of the window and whispers._

TREBELL. Amy!

_There is no answer, so he gently steps out. For a moment the room is empty and there is silence. Then_ AMY _has flown from him into the safety of lights. She is flushed, trembling, but rather ecstatic, and her voice has lost all affectation now._

AMY O'CONNELL. Oh . . oh . . you shouldn't have kissed me like that!

TREBELL _stands in the window-way; a light in his eyes, and speaks low but commandingly_.

TREBELL. Come here.

_Instinctively she moves towards him. They speak in whispers._

AMY O'CONNELL. He was locking up.

TREBELL. I've sent him to bed.

AMY O'CONNELL. He won't go.

TREBELL. Never mind him.

AMY O'CONNELL. We're standing full in the light . . anyone could see us.

TREBELL. [_With fierce egotism._] Think of me . . not of anyone else. [_He draws her from the window; then does not let her go._] May I kiss you again?

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Her eyes closed._] Yes.

_He kisses her. She stiffens in his arms; then laughs almost joyously, and is commonplace._

AMY O'CONNELL. Well . . let me get my breath.

TREBELL. [_Letting her stand free._] Now . . go along.

_Obediently she turns to the door, but sinks on the nearest chair._

AMY O'CONNELL. In a minute, I'm a little faint. [_He goes to her quickly._] No, it's nothing.

TREBELL. Come into the air again. [_Then half seriously._] I'll race you across the lawn.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Still breathless and a little hysterical._] Thank you!

TREBELL. Shall I carry you?

AMY O'CONNELL. Don't be silly. [_She recovers her self-possession, gets up and goes to the window, then looks back at him and says very beautifully._] But the night's beautiful, isn't it?

_He has her in his arms again, more firmly this time._

TREBELL. Make it so.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Struggling . . with herself._] Oh, why do you rouse me like this?

TREBELL. Because I want you.

AMY O'CONNELL. Want me to . . ?

TREBELL. Want you to . . kiss me just once.

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Yielding._] If I do . . don't let me go mad, will you?

TREBELL. Perhaps. [_He bends over her, her head drops back._] Now.

AMY O'CONNELL. Yes!

_She kisses him on the mouth. Then he would release her, but suddenly she clings again._

Oh . . don't let me go.

TREBELL. [_With fierce pride of possession._] Not yet.

_She is fragile beside him. He lifts her in his arms and carries her out into the darkness._

THE SECOND ACT

TREBELL'S house in Queen Anne Street, London. Eleven o'clock on an October morning.

TREBELL'S _working room is remarkable chiefly for the love of sunlight it evidences in its owner. The walls are white; the window which faces you is bare of all but the necessary curtains. Indeed, lack of draperies testifies also to his horror of dust. There faces you besides a double door; when it is opened another door is seen. When that is opened you discover a writing table, and beyond can discern a book-case filled with heavy volumes--law reports perhaps. The little room beyond is, so to speak, an under-study. Between the two rooms a window, again barely curtained, throws light down the staircase. But in the big room, while the books are many the choice of them is catholic; and the book-cases are low, running along the wall. There is an armchair before the bright fire, which is on your right. There is a sofa. And in the middle of the room is an enormous double writing table piled tidily with much appropriate impedimenta, blue books and pamphlets and with an especial heap of unopened letters and parcels. At the table sits_ TREBELL _himself, in good health and spirits, but eyeing askance the work to which he has evidently just returned. His sister looks in on him. She is dressed to go out and has a housekeeping air._

FRANCES. Are you busy, Henry?

TREBELL. More or less. Come in.

FRANCES. You'll dine at home?

TREBELL. Anyone coming?

FRANCES. Julia Farrant and Lucy have run up to town, I think. I thought of going round and asking them to come in . . but perhaps your young man will be going there. Amy O'Connell said something vague about our going to Charles Street . . but she may be out of town by now.

TREBELL. Well . . I'll be in anyhow.

FRANCES. [_Going to the window as she buttons her gloves._] Were you on deck early this morning? It must have been lovely.

TREBELL. No, I turned in before we got out of le Havre. I left Kent on deck and found him there at six.

FRANCES. I don't think autumn means to come at all this year . . it'll be winter one morning. September has been like a hive of bees, busy and drowsy. By the way, Cousin Mary has another baby . . a girl.

TREBELL. [_Indifferent to the information._] That's the fourth.

FRANCES. Fifth. They asked me down for the christening . . but I really couldn't.

TREBELL. September's the month for Tuscany. The car chose to break down one morning just as we were starting North again: so we climbed one of the little hills and sat for a couple of hours, while I composed a fifteenth century electioneering speech to the citizens of Siena.

FRANCES. [_With a half smile._] Have you a vein of romance for holiday time?

TREBELL. [_Dispersing the suggestion._] Not at all romantic . . nothing but figures and fiscal questions. That was the hardest commercial civilisation there has been, though you only think of its art and its murders now.

FRANCES. The papers on both sides have been very full of you . . saying you hold the moral balance . . or denying it.

TREBELL. An interviewer caught me at Basle. I offered to discuss the state of the Swiss navy.

FRANCES. Was that before Lord Horsham wrote to you?

TREBELL. Yes, his letter came to Innsbruck. He "expressed" it somehow. Why . . it isn't known that he will definitely ask me to join?

FRANCES. The Whitehall had a leader before the Elections were well over to say that he must . . but, of course, that was Mr. Farrant.

TREBELL. [_Knowingly._] Mrs. Farrant. I saw it in Paris . . it just caught me up.

FRANCES. The Times is very shy over the whole question . . has a letter from a fresh bishop every day . . doesn't talk of you very kindly yet.

TREBELL. Tampering with the Establishment, even Cantelupe's way, will be a pill to the real old Tory right to the bitter end.

WALTER KENT _comes in, very fresh and happy-looking. A young man started in life_, TREBELL _hails him_.

TREBELL. Hullo . . you've not been long getting shaved.

KENT. How do you do, Miss Trebell? Lucy turned me out.

FRANCES. My congratulations. I've not seen you since I heard the news.

KENT. [_Glad and unembarrassed._] Thank you. I do deserve them, don't I? Mrs. Farrant didn't come down . . she left us to breakfast together. But I've a message for you . . her love and she is in town. I went and saw Lord Charles, sir. He will come to you and be here at half past eleven.

TREBELL. Look at these.

_He smacks on the back, so to speak, the pile of parcels and letters._

KENT. Oh, lord! . . I'd better start on them.

FRANCES. [_Continuing in her smooth oldmaidish manner._] Thank you for getting engaged just before you went off with Henry . . it has given me my only news of him, through Lucy and your postcards.

TREBELL. Oh, what about Wedgecroft?

KENT. I think it was he spun up just as I'd been let in.

TREBELL. Oh, well . . [_And he rings at the telephone which is on his table._]

KENT. [_Confiding in MISS TREBELL._] We're a common sense couple, aren't we? I offered to ask to stay behind but she . . .

SIMPSON, _the maid, comes in_.

SIMPSON. Dr. Wedgecroft, sir.

WEDGECROFT _is on her heels. If you have an eye for essentials you may tell at once that he is a doctor, but if you only notice externals you will take him for anything else. He is over forty and in perfect health of body and spirit. His enthusiasms are his vitality and he has too many of them ever to lose one. He squeezes_ MISS TREBELL'S _hand with an air of fearless affection which is another of his characteristics and not the least loveable_.

WEDGECROFT. How are you?

FRANCES. I'm very well, thanks.

WEDGECROFT. [_To_ TREBELL, _as they shake hands_.] You're looking fit.

TREBELL. [_With tremendous emphasis._] I am!

WEDGECROFT. You've got the motor eye though.

TREBELL. Full of dust?

WEDGECROFT. Look at Kent's. [_He takes_ WALTER'S _arm_.] It's a slight but serious contraction of the pupil . . which I charge fifty guineas to cure.

FRANCES. It's the eye of faith in you and your homeopathic doses. Don't you interfere with it.

FRANCES TREBELL, _housekeeper, goes out_. KENT _has seized on the letters and is carrying them to his room_.

KENT. This looks like popularity and the great heart of the people, doesn't it?

WEDGECROFT. Trebell, you're not ill, and I've work to do.

TREBELL. I want ten minutes. Keep anybody out, Kent.

KENT. I'll switch that speaking tube arrangement to my room.

TREBELL, _overflowing with vitality, starts to pace the floor_.

TREBELL. I've seen the last of Pump Court, Gilbert.

WEDGECROFT. The Bar ought to give you a testimonial . . to the man who not only could retire on twenty years' briefs, but =has=.

TREBELL. Fifteen. But I bled the City sharks with a good conscience . . quite freely.

WEDGECROFT. [_With a pretence at grumbling._] I wish I could retire.

TREBELL. No you don't. Doctoring's a priestcraft . . you've taken vows.

WEDGECROFT. Then why don't you establish =our= church instead of . .

TREBELL. Yes, my friend . . but you're a heretic. I'd have to give the Medical Council power to burn you at the stake.

KENT. [_With the book packages._] Parcel from the S. P. C. K., sir.

TREBELL. I know . . Disestablishment a crime against God; sermon preached by the Vicar of something Parva in eighteen seventy three. I hope you're aware it's your duty to read all those.

KENT. Suppose they convert me? Lucy wanted to know if she could see you.

TREBELL. [_His eyebrows up._] Yes, I'll call at Mrs. Farrant's. Oh, wait. Aren't they coming to dinner?

KENT. To-night? No, I think they go back to Shapters by the five o'clock. I told her she might come round about twelve on the chance.

TREBELL. Yes . . if Cantelupe's punctual . . I'd sooner not have too long with him.

KENT. All right, then.

_He goes, shutting the door; then you hear the door of his room shut too. The two friends face each other, glad of a talk._

TREBELL. Well?

WEDGECROFT. Well . . you'll never do it.

TREBELL. Yes, I shall.

WEDGECROFT. You can't carry any bill to be a credit to you with the coming Tory cabinet on your back. You know the Government is cursing you with its dying breath.

TREBELL. [_Rubbing his hands._] Of course. They've been beaten out of the House and in now. I suppose they will meet Parliament.

WEDGECROFT. They must, I think. It's over a month since--

TREBELL. [_His thoughts running quickly._] There'll only be a nominal majority of sixteen against them. The Labour lot are committed on their side . . and now that the Irish have gone--

WEDGECROFT. But they'll be beaten on the Address first go.

TREBELL. Yes . . Horsham hasn't any doubt of it.

WEDGECROFT. He'll be in office within a week of the King's speech.

TREBELL. [_With another access of energy._] I'll pull the bill that's in my head through a Horsham cabinet and the House. Then I'll leave them . . they'll go to the country--

WEDGECROFT. You know Percival's pledge about that at Bristol wasn't very definite.

TREBELL. Horsham means to.

WEDGECROFT. [_With friendly contempt._] Oh, Horsham!

TREBELL. Anyway, it's about Percival I want you. How ill is he?

WEDGECROFT. Not very.

TREBELL. Is he going to die?

WEDGECROFT. Well, I'm attending him.

TREBELL. [_Pinked._] Yes . . that's a good answer. How does he stomach me in prospect as a colleague, so far?

WEDGECROFT. Sir, professional etiquette forbids me to disclose what a patient may confess in the sweat of his agony.

TREBELL. He'll be Chancellor again and lead the House.

WEDGECROFT. Why not? He only grumbles that he's getting old.

TREBELL. [_Thinking busily again._] The difficulty is I shall have to stay through one budget with them. He'll have a surplus . . well, it looks like it . . and my only way of agreeing with him will be to collar it.

WEDGECROFT. But . . good heavens! . . you'll have a hundred million or so to give away when you've disendowed.

TREBELL. Not to give away. I'll sell every penny.

WEDGECROFT. [_With an incredulous grin._] You're not going back to extending old-age pensions after turning the unfortunate Liberals out on it, are you?

TREBELL. No, no . . none of your half crown measures. They can wait to round off their solution of that till they've the courage to make one big bite of it.

WEDGECROFT. We shan't see the day.

TREBELL. [_Lifting the subject off its feet._] Not if I come out of the cabinet and preach revolution?

WEDGECROFT. Or will they make a Tory of you?

TREBELL. [_Acknowledging that stroke with a return grin._] It'll be said they have when the bill is out.

WEDGECROFT. It's said so already.

TREBELL. Who knows a radical bill when he sees it!

WEDGECROFT. I'm not pleased you have to be running a tilt against the party system. [_He becomes a little dubious._] My friend . . it's a nasty windmill. Oh, you've not seen that article in the Nation on Politics and Society . . it's written at Mrs. Farrant and Lady Lurgashall and that set. They hint that the Tories would never have had you if it hadn't been for this bad habit of opposite party men meeting each other.

TREBELL. [_Unimpressed._] Excellent habit! What we really want in this country is a coalition of all the shibboleths with the rest of us in opposition . . for five years only.