First Plays Part 57

DAUGHTER (coldly). I? Oh, I am not interested.

SINGER. Well, _I_ didn't start the subject. Perhaps, as neither of us is interested, I had better withdraw. Since we are to start this afternoon, I have much to see about. (Bowing) With your permission.

DAUGHTER (stopping him). Don't go. I am sorry. I have been unkind.

SINGER (smiling). Shall we practise that other song? Our voices agree, if our--our hearts do not.

DAUGHTER (distressed). Oh, don't say that. We must be friends.

SINGER. Only friends?

DAUGHTER (gently). Tell me about her.

SINGER. There is not much to tell, dear. I thought she loved me. Perhaps that was why I thought I loved her. When I told her, she pretended to be surprised. I don't think she was surprised. She was very pretty. (He pauses.)

DAUGHTER. And hard?

SINGER. It is not for me to say anything against her. It is through her that I came here.

DAUGHTER. When you came here the other day, had you forgotten her?

SINGER (singing). "Oh, let the wench, the wench be whom she will, so long as I can walk on Morland Hill." Didn't I say so on that first day?

DAUGHTER. Of course, I know very little of the world, but I do wonder sometimes if people who sing about the joys of wandering are really enjoying it all the time.

SINGER (looking round at the window). Is Johannes about?

DAUGHTER (surprised). No.

SINGER. Then I will be frank with you. Just lately _I_ have been wondering too.

DAUGHTER. Oh!

SINGER (rapidly). I have a house; you would like my house. I have a park; you would like the park. Horses to ride and jewels to wear. I go to London sometimes and see the King; you would like London.

DAUGHTER (tragically). I have never been to London.

SINGER (letting himself go suddenly). Sweetheart, all that I have--(In an ordinary whisper) Be careful, Fiddler just went past the window.

(Keeping his arm round her, he breaks into the last line or two of his song. She joins in, as if they were rehearsing.)

[Enter the FIDDLER.]

SINGER (to DAUGHTER). Yes, I think we have it pretty well now. 'Tis a good song. (Turning round suddenly and seeing the FIDDLER). Ah, Fiddler, are you there? What do you think of it?

FIDDLER. Isn't it time to start?

SINGER. To start? Ah yes, we start this afternoon. Well, we have had a pleasant holiday and must get to work again.

DAUGHTER (eagerly). And I am coming with you.

FIDDLER. It is settled?

DAUGHTER. Oh yes, I think so.

FIDDLER. It is the best life. (TO DAUGHTER) Play something.

[As the DAUGHTER goes to the spinet, the SINGER goes out.]

(They play. When it is over, the DAUGHTER turns round and looks at the FIDDLER, and sighs.)

DAUGHTER. That is all you want? Just you and your fiddle and the open road?

FIDDLER. It is the best life.

[The TALKER appears at the window.]

TALKER. Aha! what did I hear? Did I hear our loquacious Fiddler perorating upon Life? "Life," quoth she, with much argument and circ.u.mstantial matter; "Life," she continued, making her points singly and one by one, thus keeping the business in its true perspective; "Life is--" (Lamely) Well, what is life?

FIDDLER. When do we start, Johannes?

[The DAUGHTER goes out.]

TALKER. Are you so eager to be gone?

FIDDLER. We have been here eight days.

TALKER. Eight days! And Troy was besieged for eleven years! Eight days!

Why, I could talk for eight days without taking breath, and I am by nature a glum, silent man. Nay, nay, say not to me "Eight days." Eight days will not make a man grow old or a woman lose her beauty. (The MOTHER comes into the room.) Or a woman lose her beauty--Madame, I kiss your hands. Were I of less girth I would flit through the window and fall upon my knees at your feet. (The FIDDLER with a shrug goes out.) As it is, I shall enter by the door in the usual way. I have your permission?

MOTHER (smiling). You asked my permission a week ago. You do not need to ask it now.

TALKER (still at the window). It has been a happy week. The week has liked me well.

MOTHER. You take the road again this afternoon. Your plan still holds?

TALKER (with a sigh). They say so, lady.

MOTHER. Who say so? Is not Master Johannes the master of his company?

Who say so?

TALKER. The birds. I held converse with a cuckoo-bird this morning.

"Cuckoo," he said--in this manner (he imitates it on his pipe)--meaning, as I gathered, "O fool!" I bowed low to him, and "Pardon, bird," said I,--"but I would have you tell me why I am a fool." He answered thus in parables--"Cuckoo."

MOTHER. And what did _that_ mean?

TALKER (sighing). It meant, "There's no fool like an old fool."

(She looks away. He waits a little, then sighs again and leaves the window, entering a moment later by the door.)