He returns his gaze to the window. JACQUELINE, in a sudden fit of temper, kicks the leg of the table.
Clumsy!
JACQUELINE. (Limping over to the other armchair and sitting.) Have you found anything to wear tonight?
KIT. Supposing I didn’t go, would you mind?
JACQUELINE. Well, I have been rather looking forward to tonight.
KIT. Alan could take you. He’s a better dancer than I am.
JACQUELINE. (After a pause.) Why don’t you wear that Greek dress of my brother’s?
KIT. Jack, you know, I don’t think I could cope with a battle of flowers. (He turns and meets her eyes.) Could I get into this dress of your brother’s?
JACQUELINE. Yes, easily. It may be a bit tight.
ALAN comes in through the window.
KIT. That reminds me. I hope there’ll be plenty to drink at this affair.
ALAN. (Morosely.) There’s nothing else for it. I shall have to murder that man.
JACQUELINE. Who?
ALAN. The Commander.
KIT. Surely that’s my privilege, isn’t it?
ALAN. I’ve just been watching him play Japanese billiards with Diana. Now you would think, wouldn’t you, that Japanese billiards was a fairly simple game? You either roll wooden balls into holes or you don’t. That should be the end of it. But as played by the Commander it becomes a sort of naval battle. Every shot he makes is either a plunging salvo or a blasting broadside, or a direct hit amidships.
KIT. At least he has the excuse that it amuses Diana. (He gets up.) Will you explain to me, Alan, as an impartial observer, how she can bear to be more than two minutes in that man’s company?
ALAN. Certainly. He’s in the process of falling in love with her.
KIT. Yes, that’s obvious, but –
ALAN. When one hooks a salmon one has to spend a certain amount of time playing it. If one doesn’t, it escapes.
KIT. Is that meant to be funny?
ALAN. Of course. When the salmon is landed, all that’s necessary is an occasional kick to prevent it slipping back into the water.
KIT. (Angrily.) Don’t be a damned fool.
ALAN. Tomorrow a certain Lord Heybrook is arriving. Diana is naturally rather anxious to bring the Commander to the gaff as quickly as possible, so that she can have two nice fat fish gasping and squirming about on the bank, before she starts to fish for what’ll be the best catch of all of you, if she can bring it off.
Pause. KIT suddenly bursts out laughing.
KIT. No wonder you can’t get anyone to take your novel.
ALAN. (Hurt.) I can’t quite see what my novel has got to do with the machinations of a scalp-hunter.
JACQUELINE rises in alarm.
KIT. (Walking over to ALAN.) Listen, Alan. One more crack like that –
JACQUELINE. (Hurriedly, to ALAN.) Kit’s quite right. You shouldn’t say things like that.
KIT. (Turning to her savagely.) What do you know about it, anyway?
JACQUELINE. Nothing, only –
KIT. Well, please go away. This is between Alan and me.
JACQUELINE. Oh, I’m sorry.
JACQUELINE goes into garden.
KIT. Now. Will you please understand this. I am in love with Diana, and Diana is in love with me. Now that’s not too hard for you to grasp, is it? Because I’ll repeat it again slowly if you like.
ALAN. (Genially.) No, no. I’ve read about that sort of thing in books. The Commander, of course, is just an old friend who’s known her since she was so high.
KIT. The Commander’s in love with her, but you can’t blame Diana for that.
ALAN. Of course I don’t. It was a very smart piece of work on her part.
KIT. (Swallowing his anger.) She’s too kind-hearted to tell him to go to hell –
ALAN. I suppose it’s because she’s so kind-hearted that she calls him ‘darling’, and plays these peculiar games with him all over the place.
Pause.
KIT. I called you an impartial observer a moment ago. Well, you’re not. I believe you’re in love with Diana yourself.
ALAN. My dear Kit! As a matter of fact, I admit it’s quite possible I shall end by marrying her.
KIT. You’ll what?
ALAN. But that’ll only be – to take another sporting metaphor – like the stag who turns at bay through sheer exhaustion at being hunted.
Pause.
KIT. (Aggressively.) God! Alan, I’ve a good mind to –
ALAN. I shouldn’t. It’d make us both look rather silly.
DIANA and ROGERS heard off in garden.
Besides, you know how strongly I disapprove of fighting over a woman.
DIANA appears at window, ROGERS following.
ROGERS. (Coming in through window.) Well, of course, there was only one thing to do. So I gave the order – all hands on deck – (Stops at sight of KIT and ALAN.)
ALAN. And did they come?
ROGERS. (Ignoring ALAN, to DIANA.) Let’s go out in the garden, Diana.
DIANA. (Languidly throwing herself into an armchair.) It’s so hot, Bill. Let’s stay here.
KIT. Aren’t you going to play me a game of Japanese billiards, Diana?
DIANA. You don’t mind, do you, Kit? I’m quite exhausted as a matter of fact.
KIT. (Furious.) Oh, no. I don’t mind a bit.
He goes out into the garden. Pause. ALAN begins to hum the Lorelei. ROGERS walks towards window.
ALAN. Don’t leave us, Commander. If one of us has to go, let it be myself.
ROGERS stops. ALAN walks to door at back.
I shall go aloft.
He goes out.
ROGERS. Silly young fool. I’d like to have him in my ship. Do him all the good in the world.
DIANA. Yes. It might knock some of the conceit out of him.
ROGERS. Y-e-s. Has he been – bothering you at all lately?
DIANA. (With a gesture of resignation.) Oh, well. I’m awfully sorry for him, you know.
ROGERS. I find it hard to understand you sometimes, Diana.
He sits in chair beside her. She pats his hand.
At least I think I do understand you, but if you don’t mind me saying it, I think you’re too kind-hearted – far too kind-hearted.
DIANA. (With a sigh.) Yes, I think I am.
ROGERS. For instance – I can’t understand why you don’t tell Kit.
DIANA. (Rising.) Oh, Bill, please –
ROGERS. I’m sorry to keep on at you about it, Diana, but you don’t know how much I resent him behaving as if you were still in love with him.
DIANA. But I can’t tell him – not yet, anyway. (Gently.) Surely you must see how cruel that would be?
ROGERS. This is a case where you must be cruel only to be kind.
DIANA. Yes, Bill, that’s true. Terribly true. But you know, cruelty is something that’s physically impossible to me. I’m the sort of person who’s miserable if I tread on a snail.
ROGERS. You must tell him, Diana. Otherwise it’s so unfair on him. Tell him now.
DIANA. (Quickly.) No, not now.
ROGERS. Well, this evening.
DIANA. Well, I’ll try. It’s a terribly hard thing to do. It’s like – it’s like kicking someone when he’s down.
ROGERS puts his arms round her.
ROGERS. I know, old girl, it’s a rotten thing to have to do. Poor little thing, you mustn’t think I don’t sympathise with you, you know.
DIANA. (Laying her head on his chest.) Oh, Bill, I do feel such a beast.
ROGERS. Yes, yes, of course. But these things happen, you know.
DIANA. I can’t understand it even yet. I loved Kit – at least I thought I did, and then you happened – and – and – Oh, Bill, do you do this to all the women you meet?
ROGERS. Er – do what?
DIANA. Sweep them off their feet so that they forget everything in the world except yourself.
ROGERS. Diana, will you give me a truthful answer to a question I’m going to ask you?
DIANA. Yes, of course, Bill.
ROGERS. Is your feeling for me mere – infatuation, or do you really, really love me?
DIANA. Oh, you know I do, Bill.
ROGERS. (He kisses her.) Oh, darling. And you really don’t love Kit any more?
DIANA. I’m still fond of him.
ROGERS. But you don’t love him?
DIANA. No, Bill, I don’t love him.
JACQUELINE comes in through the window. ROGERS, his back to her, doesn’t see her. DIANA breaks away.
ROGERS. And you will tell him so?
DIANA. Hullo, Jacqueline.
JACQUELINE. Hullo, Diana. Rather warm, isn’t it?
She walks across the room and into the kitchen.
DIANA. (Alarmed.) You don’t think she saw anything, do you?
ROGERS. I don’t know.
DIANA. She may have been standing outside the window the whole time. I wouldn’t put it past her.
ROGERS. What does it matter anyway? Everyone will know soon enough.
DIANA. (Thoughtfully.) She’s the sort of girl who’ll talk.
ROGERS. Let her.
DIANA. (Turning to him.) Bill, you don’t understand. Our feelings for each other are too sacred to be soiled by vulgar gossip.
ROGERS. Er – yes, yes. But, dash it, we can’t go on keeping it a secret for ever.
DIANA. Not for ever. But don’t you find it thrilling to have such a lovely secret just between us and no one else? After all, it’s our love. Why should others know about it and bandy it about?
ROGERS. Yes, I know, but –
KIT comes in through window. He glances moodily at DIANA and ROGERS and throws himself into an armchair, picking up a paper and beginning to read. ROGERS points significantly at him and frames the words ‘Tell him now’ in his mouth. DIANA shakes her head violently. ROGERS nods his head urgently. KIT looks up.
DIANA. (Hurriedly.) You people have got a lecture now, haven’t you?
KIT. In about five minutes.
DIANA. Oh. Then I think I’ll go for a little walk by myself. (Going to window.) We’ll have our bathe about four, don’t you think, Bill?
ROGERS. Right.
DIANA goes out. Pause.
(Breezily.) Well, Neilan, how’s the world treating you these days.
KIT. Bloodily.
ROGERS. I’m sorry to hear that. What’s the trouble?
KIT. Everything. (He takes up a paper.)
ROGERS. (After a pause.) This show tonight at the Casino ought to be rather cheery, don’t you think?
KIT lowers his paper, looks at him, and raises it again.
Who are you taking?
KIT. (Into the paper.) Jacqueline.
ROGERS. Jacqueline?
KIT. (Loudly.) Yes, Jacqueline.
ROGERS. Oh. (Cheerfully.) That’s a charming girl, I think. Clever. Amusing. Pretty. She’ll make somebody a fine wife.
KIT emits a kind of snort.
Did you say anything?
KIT doesn’t answer.
She’s what the French call a sympathetic person.
KIT. Do they? I didn’t know.
ROGERS. Oh, yes they do. Much nicer than most modern girls. Take some of these English girls, for instance –
KIT. You take them. I want to read.
He turns his back. ROGERS, annoyed, shrugs his shoulders. BRIAN’s car is heard outside in the road. ROGERS goes to the bookcase and takes out his notebook.
BRIAN’s voice can be heard in the garden singing ‘Somebody Stole my Girl’.
KIT gets up.
(Shouting through the window.) Blast you, Brian.
BRIAN. (Appearing at window.) What’s the matter, old boy? Don’t you like my voice?
KIT. No, and I don’t like that song.
BRIAN. ‘Somebody Stole my Girl’? Why, it’s a – (He looks from KIT to ROGERS.) Perhaps you’re right. It’s not one of my better efforts. (He puts a parcel on the table.) This has just come for Alan. It feels suspiciously like his novel. (He goes to bookcase and takes out his notebook.) You won’t believe it, but I used to sing in my school choir. Only because I was in the rugger fifteen, I admit. (Sits next KIT.) What’s the old boy lecturing on today?
KIT. The Near East, I suppose. He didn’t finish it yesterday.
BRIAN. Good lord! Was it the Near East yesterday? I thought it was the Franco-Prussian War.
KIT. You must get a lot of value out of these lectures.
BRIAN. Well, I only understood one word in a hundred.
ROGERS. It’s rather the same in my case.
BRIAN. Give me your notes in case the old boy has the impertinence to ask me a question.
He takes KIT’s notes and starts to read them. ALAN comes in through door at the back, followed by KENNETH.
ALAN. (Going to table and picking up parcel.) Ah, I see the novel has come home to father again.
BRIAN. Open it, old boy. There may be a marvellous letter inside.
ALAN. There’ll be a letter all right. But I don’t need to read it.
He sits down at table and pushes the parcel away.
BRIAN. Bad luck, old boy.
KENNETH grabs the parcel and unties the string.
You mustn’t give up hope yet, though. First novels are always refused hundreds of times. I know a bloke who’s been writing novels and plays and things all his life. He’s fifty now, and he’s still hoping to get something accepted.
ALAN. Thank you, Brian. That’s very comforting.
KENNETH has extracted a letter from the parcel and is reading it.
ROGERS. (Amicably.) Will you let me read it some time?
ALAN. (Pleased.) Would you like to? I’m afraid you’d hate it.
ROGERS. Why? What’s it about?
KENNETH hands down the letter to ALAN.
ALAN. (Glancing over letter. He crumples the letter up and throws it away.) It’s about two young men who take a vow to desert their country instantly in the case of war and to go and live on a farm in Central Africa.
ROGERS. (Uncomfortably.) Oh.
ALAN. War breaks out and they go. One of them takes his wife. They go, not because they are any more afraid to fight than the next man, but because they believe violence in any circumstances to be a crime and that, if the world goes mad, it’s their duty to remain sane.
ROGERS. I see. Conchies.
ALAN. Yes. Conchies. When they get to their farm one of them makes love to the other’s wife and they fight over her.
ROGERS. Ah. That’s a good point.
ALAN. But in fighting for her they are perfectly aware that the motive that made them do it is as vile as the impulse they feel to go back and fight for their country. In both cases they are letting their passions get the better of their reason – becoming animals instead of men.
ROGERS. But that’s nonsense. If a man fights for his country or his wife he’s – well, he’s a man and not a damned conchie.
ALAN. The characters in my book have the honesty not to rationalise the animal instinct to fight, into something noble like patriotism or manliness. They admit that it’s an ignoble instinct – something to be ashamed of.
ROGERS. (Heated.) Ashamed of! Crikey!
ALAN. But they also admit that their reason isn’t strong enough to stand out against this ignoble instinct, so they go back and fight.
ROGERS. Ah. That’s more like it. So they were proved wrong in the end.
ALAN. Their ideal wasn’t proved wrong because they were unable to live up to it. That’s the point of the book.
KIT. (From his corner, morosely.) What’s the use of an ideal if you can’t live up to it?
ALAN. In a hundred years’ time men may be able to live up to our ideals even if they can’t live up to their own.
KENNETH. (Excitedly.) That’s it. Progress.
KIT. Progress my fanny.
ROGERS. But look here, are you a pacifist and all that?
ALAN. I am a pacifist and all that.
ROGERS. And you’re going into t
he diplomatic?
ALAN. Your surprise is a damning criticism of the diplomatic. Anyway, it’s not my fault. My father’s an ambassador.
ROGERS. Still, I mean to say – Look here, supposing some rotter came along and stole your best girl, wouldn’t you fight him?
KIT. (Looking up.) You’d better ask me that question, hadn’t you?
ROGERS. (Swinging round.) What the devil do you mean?
KIT. (Getting up.) And the answer would be yes.
ROGERS. (With heavy sarcasm.) That’s very interesting, I’m sure.
ALAN. (Enjoying himself.) By the way, I forgot to tell you, in my novel, when the two men go back to fight for their country they leave the woman in Central Africa. You see after fighting over her they come to the conclusion that she’s a bitch. It would have been so much better, don’t you think, if they had discovered that sooner?
KIT. All right, you asked for it.
He raises his arm to hit ALAN, who grapples with him and holds him.
ALAN. Don’t be a damned fool.
ROGERS strides over and knocks ALAN down.
KIT. (Turning furiously on ROGERS.) What the hell do you think you’re doing?
KIT aims a blow at ROGERS, who dodges it, overturning a chair. KENNETH runs in to attack ROGERS. BRIAN, also running in, tries to restrain both KENNETH and KIT.
BRIAN. Shut up, you damned lot of fools. (Shouting.) Kit, Babe, show some sense, for God’s sake! Look out – Maingot!
ALAN gets up and is about to go for ROGERS when MAINGOT comes in from the garden, carrying a large notebook under his arm. KIT, KENNETH, and BRIAN sit down. ROGERS and ALAN stand glaring at each other. MAINGOT picks up the chair that has been knocked over, pulls it to the table, sits down, and spreads his notebook out on the table.
MAINGOT. Alors, asseyez-vous, Messieurs. Le sujet cet aprèsmidi sera la crise de mille huit cent quarante en Turquie.
ALAN and ROGERS sit down, still glaring at each other.
Or la dernière fois je vous ai expliqué comment le gouverneur ottoman d’Egypte, Mehemet Ali, s’était battu contre son souverain, le Sultan de Turquie. Constatons donc que la chute du Sultanat . . .
Curtain.
Act Two, Scene Two
Scene: the same. Time: about six hours later.
DIANA is discovered sitting in one armchair, her feet up on the other. She is smoking a cigarette and gazing listlessly out of the window.
JACQUELINE comes in through door at back, dressed in a Bavarian costume.
French Without Tears Page 9