DRAGOMAN. You had nice luncheon? You rested after big expedition this morning?
MISS PRYCE. Yes, thank you. It was most interesting.
DRAGOMAN. I tell you all about Babatesh architecture. I tell you ancient history. Very interesting place, Petra. I show place high up there. Place of sacrifice.
LADY WESTHOLME. There is no need to hear it all over again. You were wrong on several points. I have just been checking up in Baedeker.
DRAGOMAN. No, no, lady. You not believe everything you read. You believe Aissa. Aissa educated Christian mission, learn speak truth. Everything I tell you truth and just like Holy Bible.
(SARAH enters from the marquee, sees RAYMOND, turns abruptly back and goes inside again.)
LADY WESTHOLME. You were educated at a mission?
DRAGOMAN. Yes, lady, American Mission.
LADY WESTHOLME. Oh, American!
DRAGOMAN. I learn poetry—very beautiful. (Rapidly, and with an indescribable intonation) “Hail-to-the-blysprut Birtoneverwort.”
GERARD. I beg your pardon?
DRAGOMAN. (Repeating) “Hailtotheblysprut Birtoneverwort.” (He beams.)
MISS PRYCE. (After a pause) I think it’s Shelley’s “Skylark.”
DRAGOMAN. (Beaming) That’s right, lady. Percy Bish Shelley. I know Willyam Wordwort, too. “I wonder lonely asaclout . . .”
GERARD. Assez, assez.
DRAGOMAN. I full of culture and higher education.
GERARD. Civilization has much to answer for.
LADY WESTHOLME. The thing, Mahommed, is not only to learn by heart, but to assimilate what you learn.
DRAGOMAN. You not call me Mahommed, lady. That Moslem name. You not like “Aissa,” you call me Abraham. Like Father Abraham, I got clean bosom, very snowy. (He opens his tunic.) Wear clean clothes every day.
GERARD. (To LADY WESTHOLME) Which was more than Abraham did, I expect.
DRAGOMAN. (Moving close to MISS PRYCE and displaying his chest) All clean like Abraham’s bosom.
MISS PRYCE. (Embarrassed) Oh, yes, yes, very nice, I’m sure.
DRAGOMAN. What you like to do this afternoon? Another expedition or you like rest? Most of my ladies and gentlemen like rest on day when have done big expedition to place of sacrifice.
MISS PRYCE. It certainly was rather tiring. Such a very steep climb. But perhaps . . . (She looks doubtfully at LADY WESTHOLME.)
LADY WESTHOLME. I never feel fatigue. But I don’t think another expedition. Perhaps a stroll later.
DRAGOMAN. You take nice walk-after-tea? I show you maiden hairyfern.
LADY WESTHOLME. Later. We’ll let you know.
DRAGOMAN. Very good. (He moves up Right.) When you want Abraham, you just call Abraham. I come.
(The DRAGOMAN exits up Right.)
MISS PRYCE. He’s really very obliging.
LADY WESTHOLME. He talks too much.
MISS PRYCE. I think, you know, that perhaps I shall lie down for a little. The sun is very hot.
LADY WESTHOLME. I shall go to my tent, but I shall not lie down. I shall write letters. (She moves Right.)
MISS PRYCE (Crossing to Right) You have such wonderful energy, dear Lady Westholme.
LADY WESTHOLME. It’s just a question of training.
(LADY WESTHOLME and MISS PRYCE exit Right. GERARD strolls to RAYMOND)
GERARD. You reflect very earnestly upon something.
RAYMOND. I was thinking about our journey down here, it was like coming down into an illustration of Hell. Winding through those narrow gorges, I kept saying to myself, “Down into the valley of death”—(He pauses) “the valley of death . . .”
GERARD. So that is how you felt? But it was not death you found at the end of your journey.
RAYMOND. (Natural again) No—it was a very pleasant camp, tents or caves to suit one’s fancy, a really excellent dinner.
GERARD. And friendly faces to greet you.
RAYMOND. Yes, I—I remembered seeing you at the King Solomon and Cope had mentioned you to us.
GERARD. I really meant Miss King. She you already knew, did you not?
RAYMOND. (Upset) Yes—yes, I suppose so. I wish she had come on the expedition this morning. She—she backed out very suddenly.
GERARD. (Moving Centre) Young ladies change their minds. But she missed much of interest and scenery.
(SARAH enters from the marquee. She carries a small metal case containing a hypodermic. RAYMOND rises and moves Right Centre.)
SARAH. Doctor Gerard—one of the Bedouin . . . (She pauses as RAYMOND moves towards them.)
GERARD. Yes?
SARAH. (Without looking at RAYMOND; brusquely) One of the guides is ill, acute malaria. Have you got any quinine with you? Stupidly, I seem to have left mine in Jerusalem. I’ve got my hypodermic here—(She indicates the case) if you want to give it intravenously.
GERARD. I have a small medicine case of drugs with me. I will get it.
(GERARD exits hurriedly Right. SARAH moves above the table and puts her case on it. RAYMOND is in a pitiable state of nervousness.)
RAYMOND. Sarah. (He pauses)
(SARAH ignores RAYMOND.)
(He crosses to Right of the table) You despise me, don’t you? I don’t wonder. I despise myself.
SARAH. I really don’t know what you are talking about.
RAYMOND. It was like a dream to arrive here—and find you. I thought at first you were a ghost—because I’d been thinking about you so much. (He moves to Right of her.) I love you. I want you to know that. It isn’t me—the real man—who—who behaved so badly that day at the King Solomon. I can’t answer for myself even now. (He nervously clasps and unclasps his hands.) It’s my nerves. I can’t depend on them. If she tells me to do things, I have to do them—I can’t help it. I know that I can never make you understand. It’s courage I need—courage. And I haven’t got it.
(GERARD enters Right, carrying his drug case. He pauses a moment and observes SARAH and RAYMOND. RAYMOND moves quickly away from SARAH, crosses and exits Right.)
GERARD. (Crossing to the table) I fear I interrupted something. (He puts his case on the table and opens it.)
SARAH. (Trying to be matter of fact) Nothing of any importance.
GERARD. Are you not being a little cruel to that young man?
SARAH. I can’t stand a man who’s tied to his mother’s apron strings.
GERARD. Oh, la, la, so that is the trouble. (He takes some quinine from his case and fills his own hypodermic syringe.) So you are, after all, just the English Miss. And you call yourself a budding psychologist? Do you not recognize a psychological problem when you see one?
SARAH. Do you mean that old woman? (She looks up towards MRS. BOYNTON.) She’s like some obscene Buddha—brooding over us all. Ugh! How they can all be devoted to her I can’t imagine. It’s thoroughly unhealthy. (She sits Left of the table.)
GERARD. You are wrong. They’re not devoted to her. And she—she is not devoted to them. You have not been yourself since you have arrived here or you would have noticed many things.
SARAH. Travelling with Lady Westholme and Miss Pryce gets on my nerves.
GERARD. (Moving to Right of the table) Naturally. Lady Westholme is exactly fitted to the life she leads and enjoys it immensely. Miss Pryce is realizing the dream of a lifetime in travelling abroad. Both of them have got what they want, whereas you have not got what you want.
SARAH. What do I want?
GERARD. You want that young man who has just gone away.
SARAH. Really, Doctor Gerard, nothing of the kind.
GERARD. English Miss.
SARAH. I’m not an English Miss. (She rises and moves down Left.)
GERARD. But it is what you are. (He moves to Right of her.) You will talk learnedly of sex problems and sex life—but when it comes to a flesh-and-blood young man, you protest and blush just like your great-grandmother would have done. But come, let us be colleagues. Admittedly that young man is completely dominated by his mother—she has what I cannot bu
t consider a most unhealthy power over him. Do we rescue him or do we not?
SARAH. Can we?
GERARD. (Taking her hands for a moment) I think perhaps you can. Now—where is this man?
SARAH. Through the marquee. I’ll show you.
(SARAH and GERARD exit to the marquee. NADINE enters from the slope Left. She walks as though very tired. She moves to the table and looks at the open cases. The ARAB BOY enters Right, carrying a tray.)
BOY. (Crossing to the table) Good afternoon, ma’am.
NADINE. Hullo, Abdulla.
(The ARAB BOY collects the dirty glasses from the table, crosses and exits Right. NADINE picks the bottles out of GERARD’s case and puts them back, as though curious but only half aware of what she is doing. COPE strides on down the slope Left. NADINE starts and moves from the table.)
COPE. So there you are. (He crosses to Right Centre.) You’ve been running away from me, Nadine.
NADINE. What makes you think that?
COPE. Nadine, things can’t go on like this. I’ve got to talk to you.
NADINE. (Crossing to him) Oh, please, Jeff, please.
COPE. (Turning her to face him) No, listen. I’ve loved you for a long time. You know that. I want you to have some happiness in your life.
NADINE. Perhaps no one is happy.
COPE. That’s nonsense, dear, and you know it. You’ve been a loyal wife to Lennox—you’ve put up with an impossible life for his sake and you’ve never complained. But the time’s come when you’ve got to think of yourself. I’m not expecting romantic devotion from you—but you do like me a little, don’t you?
NADINE. I like you very much.
COPE. You’re not doing Lennox any good by staying with him. Divorce him and marry me.
(SARAH enters from the marquee.)
(He moves Right) We might take a walk later—when the sun isn’t so hot.
NADINE. Yes.
(COPE exits Right. SARAH looks at NADINE, then sits Left of the table.)
Miss King.
SARAH. Yes?
NADINE. May I say something to you?
SARAH. Why, of course.
NADINE. (Moving to Right of the table) I saw you talking to my brother-in-law just now.
SARAH. Really?
NADINE. Do help him if you can.
SARAH. What makes you think I can help him?
NADINE. If you can’t help him, nobody can.
SARAH. He could help himself if he liked.
NADINE. That’s where you’re wrong. We’re an odd family. He can’t.
SARAH. You’re a very devoted family—I know. Your mother-in-law told me so.
NADINE. No, we’re not. That’s the last thing we are.
(SARAH looks in surprise at NADINE.)
(She moves nearer to SARAH and lowers her voice.) Do you know what she—(she gestures towards MRS. BOYNTON) was before my father-in-law married her?
SARAH. What was she?
NADINE. She was a wardress in a prison. (She pauses.) My father-in-law was the governor. He was a widower with three young children, the youngest, Jinny, only six months old.
SARAH. (Looking at MRS. BOYNTON) Yes—I can see her as a wardress.
NADINE. It’s what she still is—Lennox and Raymond and Jinny have been the prisoners. They’ve never known what it is to live outside the prison walls.
SARAH. Not even now—here—abroad?
NADINE. Yes. She’s brought the prison walls with her. She’s never allowed them to make friends—to have outside contacts—to have any ideas or interests of their own. It’s all been done under the pretence of solicitude and devotion—but there’s no devotion.
SARAH. What is there, then?
NADINE. Something that frightens me—something cruel—something that rejoices and gloats in its own power . . .
(MRS. BOYNTON moves, puts down her book and peers forward.)
MRS. BOYNTON. (Calling) Nadine. Come and help me.
NADINE. (To SARAH; urgently) I didn’t understand when I married Lennox—I left things too late. I think he’s beyond help. But it’s different with Raymond. You could fight.
MRS. BOYNTON. (Calling) Nadine.
NADINE. Coming, Mother. (She goes up on the rock to MRS. BOYNTON)
(The ARAB BOY enters from the marquee.)
BOY. (To SARAH) Selun, he very bad. You come, Miss Doctor.
SARAH. (Rising) Very well.
(SARAH and the ARAB BOY exit to the marquee. RAYMOND enters Right and crosses to the table. He picks up a bottle that NADINE has left out of the case, at first casually, then with suddenly awakened attention. He stares down at it. NADINE helps MRS. BOYNTON to rise.)
RAYMOND. (Looking at the case) Doctor Gerard’s. (He moves a step or two forward from the table, intent on the bottle in his hand.)
(MRS. BOYNTON and NADINE move down Centre.)
MRS. BOYNTON. I think I’ll sit here for a bit.
(RAYMOND, startled, drops the bottle and turns.)
(She indicates the chair Right of the table.) There.
NADINE. Won’t it be too hot for you in the sun?
MRS. BOYNTON. I don’t mind the sun. It’s really hotter up there among the rocks because of the refraction. This will do very well. (She sits Right of the table. To RAYMOND) I saw you talking to that girl, son.
RAYMOND. (Frightened) I— . . . (With an effort) Yes, I did speak to her. Why not?
MRS. BOYNTON. Why not, indeed. After all, you’re young. You’d better go for a walk this afternoon.
RAYMOND. Go—for a walk? You—you want me to?
MRS. BOYNTON. Young people must enjoy themselves.
NADINE. Cat and mouse.
MRS. BOYNTON. That’s an odd thing to say, Nadine.
NADINE. Is it?
MRS. BOYNTON. (To RAYMOND) Your friend went that way. (She points with her stick to the marquee.)
(RAYMOND exits doubtfully to the marquee. NADINE looks at MRS. BOYNTON.)
(She chuckles quietly) Yes, young people must enjoy themselves—in their own way.
NADINE. (Crossing above MRS. BOYNTON and standing above the table) And old people in theirs.
MRS. BOYNTON. Now what do you mean by that, my dear?
NADINE. Just—cat and mouse.
MRS. BOYNTON. Very cryptic. You ought to go for a walk, Nadine, with that nice friend of yours—Mr. Cope.
NADINE. I suppose you saw us talking, too?
MRS. BOYNTON. Yes. He’s very fond of you.
NADINE. (Moving Left of the table) I know.
MRS. BOYNTON. I’m afraid you don’t get as much fun as you ought to get. It’s a very dull life waiting on a sick old woman—and Lennox—he’s changed a lot—yes, he’s changed.
NADINE. (Moving down Left) He is not very happy.
MRS. BOYNTON. He ought to be—married to a charming and good-looking girl like you. I’m afraid sometimes he doesn’t appreciate you as much as he ought to do.
NADINE. You think Jefferson Cope appreciates me better?
MRS. BOYNTON. I think he’s very much in love with you.
NADINE. And you want me to go away with him and leave Lennox—why?
MRS. BOYNTON. (Smoothly; with faint malicious amusement) Really, Nadine, what words you put into my mouth—I’ve said nothing of the kind.
NADINE. It’s what you mean, though. (Slowly) It was one of your reasons for coming here.
MRS. BOYNTON. You are talking very extravagantly, Nadine dear. Naturally I want you to be happy—but of course I am not urging you to leave your husband. That would be a very wrong thing to do.
(NADINE stares at MRS. BOYNTON in silence for a moment or two.)
NADINE. (Moving up Left of the table) Why do you hate us all so much?
MRS. BOYNTON. (Amused) Really, my dear child!
NADINE. (Still staring at her) You like hurting people—don’t you? You like the sense of power. I’ve thought sometimes that it came from your having been a wardress—but I think I see further than that—it was what made you bec
ome a wardress.
(MRS. BOYNTON smiles gently.)
There are a lot of people who can’t stand that job—but you—(She slows down, dropping truth after truth as she stares at MRS. BOYNTON) liked it. When you married, you missed it—but you found consolation in the children—three helpless children. You started on them.
MRS. BOYNTON. Dear me, what an imagination you have got, Nadine dear.
NADINE. You’ve never been physically cruel. It’s been a mental sport. You’ve thwarted and tortured Jinny until she’s gone nearly over the edge. You know only too well what you’ve done to Lennox—I can’t reach him any more. He doesn’t give you much sport nowadays, does he? But Raymond does. Raymond’s still able to rebel. You can have some fun with Raymond, can’t you?
MRS. BOYNTON. Such curious ideas you have, Nadine, haven’t you?
NADINE. That’s why you came abroad. You were bored, weren’t you? You’d tamed your wild beasts. You’d got them jumping through hoops just as you told them to. It was dull for you. So you brought them abroad—hoping they would rebel—hoping they’d suffer and that you’d have some fresh fun hurting them, seeing them writhe and squirm. (Sharply) Haven’t you any pity?
MRS. BOYNTON. (Turning an impassive face to her) I don’t know what you mean.
NADINE. (Crossing above the table to Right Centre) Why do you like hurting people? It seems so senseless.
MRS. BOYNTON. (In a thick voice) Does it?
NADINE. So it’s true—you are like that.
MRS. BOYNTON. (With infinite scorn) You little fool.
NADINE. (Turning on her) It’s you who are the fool. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that what you’re doing is dangerous?
MRS. BOYNTON. Dangerous?
NADINE. Yes, dangerous. You can drive people too far.
MRS. BOYNTON. I’m not afraid.
NADINE. You might—die.
MRS. BOYNTON. I’m not going to die for a long time to come, Nadine dear. I may not have good health, but I’ve great powers of enjoyment—(She chuckles grimly) great powers of enjoyment.
NADINE. I think you’re mad.
MRS. BOYNTON. Not in the legal sense, my dear.
The Mousetrap and Other Plays Page 12