ALAN. Really? She’d just scream with laughter? (Turning on him.) You poor idiot, don’t you realise the girl’s been madly in love with you for two months now?
KIT. (After a pause, derisively.) Ha, ha!
ALAN. All right. Say ha, ha! Don’t believe it and forget I ever said it. I promised her I’d never tell you.
Pause.
KIT. What did you have to drink up at the Casino?
ALAN. Less than you.
KIT. Are you stone-cold sober?
ALAN. As sober as ten Lady Astors.
KIT. And you sit there and tell me –
Voices heard outside.
(Getting up in alarm.) Oh, lord!
MAINGOT comes in, followed by JACQUELINE and KENNETH.
MAINGOT. Aha! Le Grec et l’Allemand. Vous vous êtes bien amusés au Casino?
JACQUELINE. Hello, Kit.
ALAN. Très bien, Monsieur. Et vous?
KIT is gaping open-mouthed at JACQUELINE.
MAINGOT. Ah, oui! C’était assez gai, mais on y a mangé excessivement mal, et le champagne était très mauvais et m’a couté les yeux de la tête. Quand même le quartorze ne vient qu’une fois par an. Alors je vais me coucher. Bonsoir, bonne nuit et dormez bien.
ALL. Bonsoir.
MAINGOT goes out through door at back, carrying his Highland shoes which he has changed for slippers.
JACQUELINE. Why did you all leave so early?
KIT. (Gaping.) Oh, I don’t know.
JACQUELINE. Your costume caused a sensation, Kit. Everyone was asking me what it was meant to be.
KIT. (Nervously.) Really.
ALAN. Did you have a good time, Kenneth?
KENNETH. Oh, all right. I’ll say good night. I’ve got an essay to finish before tomorrow.
JACQUELINE. Good night, Kenneth, and thank you.
KENNETH. Good night.
KENNETH goes out, looking sulky, through door at back.
ALAN. You must have had a wonderful time with the Babe in that mood.
JACQUELINE. What’s the matter with him, Alan?
ALAN. He’s angry with me for not doing his essay for him. I think I’d better go and make my peace with him. (At door.) Don’t go to bed for a few minutes. I want to talk to you, Jack.
He goes out. There is a pause. KIT is plainly uncomfortable.
KIT. Jack?
JACQUELINE. Yes?
KIT. Did you have a good time tonight?
JACQUELINE. (Puzzled.) Yes, thank you, Kit.
KIT. Good. I – er – I’m sorry I couldn’t take you.
JACQUELINE. That’s all right. (Smiling.) That was Brian’s girl you and Alan were dancing with, wasn’t it? What’s she like?
KIT. Pretty hellish.
Pause.
Jack?
JACQUELINE. Yes?
KIT. Oh, nothing. (He gets up and wanders forlornly about the room.) Was it raining when you came back?
JACQUELINE. No, it wasn’t raining.
KIT. It was when we came back.
JACQUELINE. Really?
Pause.
KIT. Yes, quite heavily.
JACQUELINE. It must have cleared up, then.
Pause. KIT is fiddling with a box of matches.
KIT. (Turning with sudden decision.) Jack, there’s something I must – (In turning he upsets matches.) Damn, I’m sorry.
JACQUELINE. I’ve never seen a clumsier idiot than you, Kit. (She goes on her knees.) I seem to spend my life cleaning up after you. There!
She gets up. KIT kisses her suddenly and clumsily on the mouth. She pushes him away. They are both embarrassed and puzzled.
(After a long pause.) You smell of whisky, Kit.
Enter ALAN.
ALAN. Oh!
KIT. I’m going to bed. Good night. (He goes out.)
JACQUELINE. What’s the matter with him? Is he drunk?
ALAN. No, Jack, but I’ve a confession to make to you.
JACQUELINE. (In alarm.) You haven’t told him?
ALAN. I couldn’t help it.
JACQUELINE. Oh, Alan, no.
ALAN. Will you forgive me?
JACQUELINE. I’ll never forgive you. It’s ruined everything. (A shade tearfully.) He’s just been talking to me about the weather.
ALAN. Well, he’s a bit embarrassed. That’s natural.
JACQUELINE. But he’ll spend all his time running away from me now, and when he is with me he’ll always be wondering if I want him to kiss me, and he’ll go on talking about the weather, and – (turning away) – oh, it’s awful!
ALAN. I’m sorry, Jack. I meant well.
JACQUELINE. Men are such blundering fools.
ALAN. Yes, I suppose we are. Will you forgive me?
JACQUELINE. (Wearily.) Of course I forgive you. (After a pause.) I’m going to bed.
ALAN. All right. We’ll talk about it in the morning. I may be able to persuade Kit I was joking.
JACQUELINE. (At door.) No. Please don’t say anything more to Kit. You’ve done enough harm as it is. (Relenting.) Good night, Alan. You’re just a sentimental old monster, aren’t you?
ALAN. Who, me?
JACQUELINE. Yes, you. Good night.
She goes out. ALAN, left alone, lights a cigarette. Then he goes to door at back and opens it.
ALAN. (Calling.) Jack?
JACQUELINE. (Off.) Yes?
ALAN. Will you see if Brian’s in his room. I want to lock up.
JACQUELINE. (Off.) Right. (After a pause.) No, he must still be out.
ALAN. I’ll leave a note for him.
He closes the door, takes an envelope from his pocket, and unscrews his pen. While he is writing, DIANA comes in softly and stands behind him. He doesn’t hear her.
DIANA. (Gently.) Alan.
ALAN. (Jumping up.) Oh, God!
DIANA. Do you mind if I speak to you for a moment?
ALAN. (Pointing vaguely at the ceiling.) Well, I was just going to bed. (Dashes to garden door.)
DIANA. (Inexorably.) I suppose you didn’t believe what I told you just now. (She catches him.)
ALAN. (Looking despairingly round for help.) No, I didn’t believe it.
DIANA. (With quiet resignation.) No. I knew you wouldn’t, and, of course, after what’s happened I couldn’t expect you to. But, whether you believe me or not, I just want to say this.
ALAN. (Wildly.) In the morning, Diana, say it in the morning. I’m frightfully tired and –
DIANA. Please listen to me. I just wanted to say that it’s been you from the first moment we met. Kit and Bill never meant a thing to me. I let them think I was in love with them. But it was only because I had some idea it might make you jealous.
ALAN. It’s a pity you didn’t succeed.
DIANA. Oh, I know what you think of me, and you’re quite right, I suppose. (Pathetically.) I’ve told so many lies before that I can’t expect you to believe me when I’m telling the truth.
ALAN. Poor little Matilda.
DIANA. (Comes back to ALAN.) But this is the truth, now. This is the only completely sincere feeling I’ve ever had for anyone in all my life. (Simply.) I do love you, Alan. I always have and suppose I always will.
ALAN. (In agony.) Oh, go away. Please go away.
DIANA. All right. I know you have every right to think I’m lying, but I’m not, Alan, really, I’m not. That’s what’s so funny.
ALAN. (Imploringly.) Oh, God help me!
DIANA. (At door.) Good night, Alan. (Simply.) I do love you.
She smiles tearfully at him. He throws away his cigarette, and walks over to her.
ALAN. Say that again, blast you!
DIANA. I love you.
He embraces her fervently.
DIANA. (Emerging from embrace, ecstatically.) I suppose this is true.
ALAN. You know damn well it is.
DIANA. Say it, darling.
ALAN. (Hedging.) Say what?
DIANA. Say you love me.
ALAN. Must I? Oh, this is hell! (Shouting.) I love you.
BRIAN comes in through window.
BRIAN. Hello, Alan, hello, Diana, old thing.
DIANA looks through BRIAN and turns hurriedly to the door.
DIANA. (Softly.) Good night, Alan. I’ll see you in the morning.
She goes out. ALAN sinks into a chair.
BRIAN. Did you see that, old boy? She cut me dead. She’s furious with me. I must tell you about it, because it’s a damned funny story. After you boys had gone I took Diana to have a bite of dinner with me. Well, we had a bottle of wine and got pretty gay, and all the time she was giving me the old green light.
ALAN. The green light?
BRIAN. Yes. The go-ahead signal. Well, after a bit I rather handed out an invitation to the waltz, if you follow me.
ALAN. Yes. I follow you.
BRIAN. I mean, everybody being out, it seemed an opportunity not to be missed. Well, do you know what she did then, old boy?
ALAN. No.
BRIAN. She gave me a sharp buffet on the kisser.
ALAN. What did you do?
BRIAN. I said, well, if that isn’t what you want, what the hell do you want? Then she got up and left me. I never laughed so much in all my life.
ALAN. (Dazedly.) You laughed?
BRIAN. Wouldn’t you, old boy?
ALAN gazes at him with amazed admiration.
Well, I’m for bed. I say, I met the most charming little girl just now on the front – fantastic piece she was. She gave me her card – yes, here it is. Colette, chez Mme Pontet, Rue Lafayette, 23. Bain 50 francs. I think I shall pop round tomorrow and have a bain.
ALAN. (Rising and gazing at BRIAN with awe.) Oh, Brian! How right-minded you are!
BRIAN. Me?
ALAN. Thank God you came in when you did. You don’t know what you’ve done for me with your splendid, shining example. I now see my way clear before me. A great light has dawned.
BRIAN. I say, old boy, are you feeling all right?
ALAN. Listen, Brian. You weren’t the only person to get the old green light from Diana tonight. I got it, too.
BRIAN. Doesn’t surprise me. I should think she’s pretty stingy with her yellows and reds.
ALAN. Yes, but I didn’t respond to it in the same glorious way as you. However, what’s done can be undone. (Going to door.) I am now going upstairs to put the same question to Diana that you did earlier in the evening.
BRIAN. I shouldn’t, old boy. She’ll say no, and believe me, she’s got rather a painful way of saying it.
ALAN. If she says no, then, lacking your own sterling qualities, I shan’t pay a visit to Rue Lafayette 23. No. I shall run away. I shall go back to London tomorrow.
BRIAN. But what about your exam and so forth?
ALAN. I shall chuck that. Well (opening door) I am now about to throw my future life into the balance of fate. Diplomat or writer. Which shall it be? Diana shall choose.
ALAN goes out.
BRIAN. (To himself.) Crackers!
He shakes his head wonderingly. After a bit he rises, crosses to table, and stops to think.
BRIAN. (Musing). Bain 50 francs! (Fumbles for money and starts to count.) Ten, twenty – thirty – forty – forty-one, forty-two – forty-three – forty-three – Damn.
Slamming of door is heard. ALAN comes in.
ALAN. I’m going to be a writer. Come and help me pack.
He disappears. BRIAN follows him out murmuring expostulations as the curtain falls.
Act Three, Scene Two
Scene: the same. Time: the next morning.
MARIANNE is clearing away the breakfast, JACQUELINE helping her. KENNETH enters from window, MAINGOT following. They have evidently just finished a lesson.
MAINGOT. (At window.) Dîtes à Monsieur Curtis que je l’attends. Il ne vaut pas la peine de continuer. Vous n’en saurez j’amais rien.
KENNETH. (Sadly.) Oui, Monsieur.
MAINGOT. Je serai dans le jardin. Oh, ma petite Jacqueline, que j’ai mal à la tête ce matin.
JACQUELINE. Pauvre, papa! Je suis bien fâchée.
MAINGOT. Ça passera – ça passera. Heuresement le quatorze ne vient qu’une fois par an.
He goes back into garden.
KENNETH. (Calling.) Brian.
BRIAN. (Off.) Yes, old boy?
KENNETH. Your lesson.
BRIAN. (Off.) Won’t be a second.
KENNETH closes the door and wanders mournfully over to the bookcase.
JACQUELINE. Why so sad this morning, Kenneth?
KENNETH. You’ve heard the news about Alan.
JACQUELINE. Yes, my father told me.
KENNETH. Don’t you think it s awful?
JACQUELINE. No. For one thing, I don’t believe for a moment he’s serious.
KENNETH. Oh, he’s serious all right. What a damn fool! If I had half his chance of getting in the diplomatic I wouldn’t go and chuck it up.
Enter BRIAN, carrying a notebook.
BRIAN. ’Morning all. Where’s Maingot Père?
KENNETH. He’s waiting for you in the garden.
BRIAN. Oh. (Anxiously.) Tell me, old boy, how is he this morning? Gay, happy – at peace with the world?
KENNETH. No. He’s got a bad headache, and he’s in a fiendish temper. (He goes out.)
BRIAN. Tut, tut. Couple of portos too many last night, I fear.
JACQUELINE. Why this tender anxiety for my father’s health, Brian?
BRIAN. Well, Jack, I’m afraid I may have to deliver a rather rude shock to his nervous system. You see, I’m supposed to have done an essay on the Waterloo campaign, and what with one thing and another I don’t seem to have got awfully far.
JACQUELINE. How far?
BRIAN. (Reading.) La bataille de Waterloo était gagnée sur les champs d’Eton.
JACQUELINE. And that’s the essay, is it?
BRIAN nods.
Well, if I were you, I shouldn’t show it to him. I’d tell him you did one of five pages and it got lost.
BRIAN. (Doubtfully.) Yes, but something seems to tell me he won’t altogether credit that story.
Enter MAINGOT.
MAINGOT. Eh bien, Monsieur Curtis, qu’est-ce qu’on attend? Vous êtes en retard.
BRIAN. (Affably.) Ah, Monsieur, vous êtes bon – ce matin, j’espère?
MAINGOT. Non, j’ai affreusement mal à la tête.
BRIAN. (Sympathetically.) Oh. C’est trop mauvais. A trifle hungover, peut-être? Un tout petit peu suspendu?
MAINGOT. Vous êtes fou ce matin?
They go out together, MAINGOT heard expostulating.
BRIAN. (Off, his voice coming faintly through the window.) Il est très triste, Monsieur. J’ai perdu mon essai . . .
JACQUELINE smiles. Having finished her clearing away, she takes off her apron and the handkerchief that covers her hair. She looks at herself in a pocket-mirror. The door at the back opens very slowly and ALAN’s head appears.
ALAN. (Whispering.) Jack!
JACQUELINE. (Turning.) Hallo, Alan.
ALAN. Is Diana about?
JACQUELINE. She’s in the garden. She wants to speak to you.
ALAN. I bet she does. But I’m taking good care she doesn’t get a chance.
He comes cautiously into the room. He is dressed in a lounge suit preparatory for going away.
I want to get my books together. (He goes to bookcase.)
JACQUELINE. Alan, you’re not serious about this, are you?
ALAN. Never more serious in my life, Jack. (He is collecting books from the bookcase.)
JACQUELINE. You’re breaking Diana’s heart, you know.
ALAN. Ha! Is that what she told you?
JACQUELINE. Oh, no. She wouldn’t give herself away to me, but I honestly think she is rather in love with you, Alan.
ALAN. Yes, that’s just what I’m afraid of.
JACQUELINE. You know, you’re the only man in the world who’s ever got away from Diana unscathed.
ALAN. (Turning
quickly.) Don’t say that! It’s unlucky. I’m not out of the house yet.
He turns back to the bookcase as DIANA comes quietly into the room from the garden.
JACQUELINE. (Quickly.) Look out, Alan.
ALAN. (Seeing DIANA.) Oh, my God!
He darts out of the room, dropping all his books as he does so. DIANA follows him out purposefully, but is too late. After a second she reappears.
DIANA. It’s no good, he’s sure to have locked the door of his room. (She sits down mournfully.) I’m afraid he’s quite determined to go. I feel dreadfully bad about it, because I’m responsible for the whole thing. All this talk of writing is just nonsense. He’s only running away from me.
JACQUELINE. I don’t altogether blame him.
DIANA. I suppose it’s a wonderful compliment for a man to throw up his career just for my sake, but I can’t see it that way. I’m really frightfully upset.
JACQUELINE. You don’t look it.
DIANA. But I am, honestly I am. You see, I can’t understand why he should want to run away from me. I can’t see what he’s got to be frightened of.
JACQUELINE. Can’t you?
DIANA. If only I could get a chance to talk to him alone, I’m sure I could persuade him not to go.
JACQUELINE. I’m sure you could, too. So is Alan. But I don’t think you’ll get the chance.
Enter MARIANNE from kitchen.
MARIANNE. (To JACQUELINE.) S’il vous plaît, M’mselle, voulez vous venir voir la chambre de Lord Heybrook? Je l’ai préparée.
JACQUELINE. Bien, Marianne. Je viens tout de suite.
Exit MARIANNE, and JACQUELINE follows her to the door.
DIANA. Oh, does this Lord Heybrook arrive this morning?
JACQUELINE has turned back to the kitchen door as the other door opens and ALAN comes in. JACQUELINE is momentarily alarmed for his safety, but sees ROGERS, who strolls in behind ALAN, and is reassured. She smiles and goes out.
ALAN, studiously avoiding looking at DIANA, goes over to the bookcase and picks up the books he has dropped. ROGERS takes a position between him and DIANA, nonchalantly looking up at the ceiling.
DIANA. (Quietly.) Bill, please go away. I want to talk with Alan alone.
ROGERS. Well, it’s . . .
DIANA. (Shortly.) Bill, did you hear me? I asked you to go.
ROGERS. (Firmly.) I’m sorry, I can’t.
DIANA. (Realising the situation, steps back with dignity.) Do you think it’s necessary to behave like this?
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