Complete Plays of John Galsworthy Part 148

ARNAUD. The plovers' eggs veree good to-night, Sare. Veree good, Madame. A peach or two, after. Veree good peaches. The Roederer, Sare--not bad at all. Madame likes it frappe, but not too cold--yes?

[He is away again to his service-table.]

YOUNG MAN. [Burying his face in the carnations] I say--these are jolly, aren't they? They do you pretty well here.

CLARE. Do they?

YOUNG MAN. You've never been here? [CLARE shakes her head] By Jove!

I thought I didn't know your face. [CLARE looks full at him. Again something moves in the YOUNG MAN, and he stammers] I mean--not----

CLARE. It doesn't matter.

YOUNG MAN. [Respectfully] Of course, if I--if you were waiting for anybody, or anything--I----

[He half rises]

CLARE. It's all right, thank you.

The YOUNG MAN sits down again, uncomfortable, nonplussed. There is silence, broken by the inaudible words of the languid lord, and the distant merriment of the supper-party. ARNAUD brings the plovers' eggs.

YOUNG MAN. The wine, quick.

ARNAUD. At once, Sare.

YOUNG MAN. [Abruptly] Don't you ever go racing, then?

CLARE. No.

[ARNAUD pours out champagne]

YOUNG MAN. I remember awfully well my first day. It was pretty thick--lost every blessed bob, and my watch and chain, playin' three cards on the way home.

CLARE. Everything has a beginning, hasn't it?

[She drinks. The YOUNG MAN stares at her]

YOUNG MAN. [Floundering in these waters deeper than he had bargained for] I say--about things having beginnings--did you mean anything?

[CLARE nods]

YOUNG MAN. What! D'you mean it's really the first----?

CLARE nods. The champagne has flicked her courage.

YOUNG MAN. By George! [He leans back] I've often wondered.

ARNAUD. [Again filling the gla.s.ses] Monsieur finds----

YOUNG MAN. [Abruptly] It's all right.

He drains his gla.s.s, then sits bolt upright. Chivalry and the camaraderie of cla.s.s have begun to stir in him.

YOUNG MAN. Of course I can see that you're not--I mean, that you're a--a lady. [CLARE smiles] And I say, you know--if you have to-- because you're in a hole--I should feel a cad. Let me lend you----?

CLARE. [Holding up her gla.s.s] 'Le vin est tire, il faut le boire'!

She drinks. The French words, which he does not too well understand, completing his conviction that she is a lady, he remains quite silent, frowning. As CLARE held up her gla.s.s, two gentlemen have entered. The first is blond, of good height and a comely insolence. His crisp, fair hair, and fair brushed-up moustache are just going grey; an eyegla.s.s is fixed in one of two eyes that lord it over every woman they see; his face is broad, and coloured with air and wine. His companion is a tall, thin, dark bird of the night, with sly, roving eyes, and hollow cheeks. They stand looking round, then pa.s.s into the further room; but in pa.s.sing, they have stared unreservedly at CLARE.

YOUNG MAN. [Seeing her wince] Look here! I'm afraid you must feel me rather a brute, you know.

CLARE. No, I don't; really.

YOUNG MAN. Are you absolute stoney? [CLARE nods] But [Looking at her frock and cloak] you're so awfully well----

CLARE. I had the sense to keep them.

YOUNG MAN. [More and more disturbed] I say, you know--I wish you'd let me lend you something. I had quite a good day down there.

CLARE. [Again tracing her pattern on the cloth--then looking up at him full] I can't take, for nothing.

YOUNG MAN. By Jove! I don't know-really, I don't--this makes me feel pretty rotten. I mean, it's your being a lady.

CLARE. [Smiling] That's not your fault, is it? You see, I've been beaten all along the line. And I really don't care what happens to me. [She has that peculiar fey look on her face now] I really don't; except that I don't take charity. It's lucky for me it's you, and not some----

The supper-party is getting still more boisterous, and there comes a long view holloa, and a blast of the horn.

YOUNG MAN. But I say, what about your people? You must have people of some sort.

He is fast becoming fascinated, for her cheeks have begun to flush and her eyes to s.h.i.+ne.

CLARE. Oh, yes; I've had people, and a husband, and--everything---- And here I am! Queer, isn't it? [She touches her gla.s.s] This is going to my head! Do you mind? I sha'n't sing songs and get up and dance, and I won't cry, I promise you!

YOUNG MAN. [Between fascination and chivalry] By George! One simply can't believe in this happening to a lady.

CLARE. Have you got sisters? [Breaking into her soft laughter] My brother's in India. I sha'n't meet him, anyway.

YOUNG MAN. No, but--I say-are you really quite cut off from everybody? [CLARE nods] Something rather awful must have happened?

She smiles. The two gentlemen have returned. The blond one is again staring fixedly at CLARE. This time she looks back at him, flaming; and, with a little laugh, he pa.s.ses with his friend into the corridor.

CLARE. Who are those two?

YOUNG MAN. Don't know--not been much about town yet. I'm just back from India myself. You said your brother was there; what's his regiment?

CLARE. [Shaking her head] You're not going to find out my name. I haven't got one--nothing.

She leans her bare elbows on the table, and her face on her hands.