Lady Mereston.
Did Mr. Paradine Fouldes come this evening?
Servant.
Yes, miladi.
Lady Mereston.
Is he in the hotel now?
Servant.
Yes, miladi.
Lady Mereston.
Will you send some one up to his room to say I’m waiting to see him?
Servant.
Pardon, miladi, but the gentleman say ’e was on no account to be disturbed.
Lady Mereston.
Nonsense. Mr. Fouldes is my brother. You must go to him immediately.
Servant.
Mr. Fouldes his valet is in the ‘all. Will your ladyship speak with him?
Lady Mereston.
Mr. Fouldes is more difficult to see than a cabinet minister. Send his servant to me.
Servant.
Very good, miladi.
[Exit Servant, and presently Thompson, Mr. Fouldes’ man, comes in.
Thompson.
Your ladyship wished to see me.
Lady Mereston.
Good evening, Thompson. I hope you had a comfortable journey.
Thompson.
Yes, my lady. Mr. Fouldes always has a comfortable journey.
Lady Mereston.
Was the sea calm when you crossed?
Thompson.
Yes, my lady. Mr. Fouldes would look upon it as a great liberty if the sea was not calm.
Lady Mereston.
Will you tell Mr. Fouldes that I should like to see him at once?
Thompson.
[Looking at his watch.] Excuse me, my lady, but Mr. Fouldes said no one was to disturb him till ten o’clock. It’s more than my place is worth to go to him at five minutes to.
Lady Mereston.
But what on earth’s he doing?
Thompson.
I don’t know at all, my lady.
Lady Mereston.
How long have you been with Mr. Fouldes?
Thompson.
Twenty-five years, my lady.
Lady Mereston.
I should have thought you knew how he spent every minute of his day.
[Paradine comes in. He is a very well-dressed
man of forty-odd. Self-possessed, worldly,
urbane. He is never at a loss or put out
of countenance. He overhears Lady
Mereston’s last words.
Fouldes.
When I engaged Thompson I told him the first thing he must learn was the very difficult feat of keeping his eyes open and shut at one and the same time.
Lady Mereston.
My dear Paradine, I’ve been waiting to see you for the last two hours. How tiresome you are.
Fouldes.
You may give me a kiss, Maud, but don’t be rough.
Lady Mereston.
[Kissing his cheek.] You ridiculous creature. You really might have come to see me at once.
Fouldes.
My dear, you cannot grudge me a little repose after a long and tedious journey. I had to repair the ravages to my person caused by twenty-seven hours in the train.
Lady Mereston.
Don’t be so absurd. I’m sure your person is never ravished.
Fouldes.
Ravaged, my dear, ravaged. I should look upon it as an affectation at my age if I were not a little upset by the journey from London to Monte Carlo.
Lady Mereston.
I’ll be bound you ate a very hearty dinner.
Fouldes.
Thompson, did I eat any dinner at all?
Thompson.
[Stolidly.] Soup, sir.
Fouldes.
I remember looking at it.
Thompson.
Fish, sir.
Fouldes.
I trifled with a fried sole.
Thompson.
Bouchées à la Reine, sir.
Fouldes.
They have left absolutely no impression upon me.
Thompson.
Tournedos à la Splendide.
Fouldes.
They were distinctly tough, Thompson. You must lodge a complaint in the proper quarter.
Thompson.
Roast pheasant, sir.
Fouldes.
Yes, yes, now you mention it, I do remember the pheasant.
Thompson.
Chocolate ice, sir.
Fouldes.
It was too cold, Thompson. It was distinctly too cold.
Lady Mereston.
My dear Paradine, I think you dined uncommonly well.
Fouldes.
I have reached an age when love, ambition and wealth pale into insignificance beside a really well-grilled steak. That’ll do, Thompson.
Thompson.
Very well, sir.
[He goes out.
Lady Mereston.
It’s too bad of you, Paradine, to devour a substantial meal when I’m eating out my very heart with anxiety.
Fouldes.
It seems to agree with you very well. I’ve not seen you look better for years.
Lady Mereston.
For heaven’s sake be serious and listen to me.
Fouldes.
I started immediately I got your telegram. Pray tell me what I can do for you?
Lady Mereston.
My dear Paradine, Charlie’s head over ears in love.
Fouldes.
It’s not altogether an unexpected condition for a young man of twenty-two. If the lady’s respectable, marry him and resign yourself to being a dowager. If she’s not, give her five hundred pounds and pack her off to Paris or London or wherever else she habitually practises her arts and graces.
Lady Mereston.
I wish I could. But who d’you think it is?
Fouldes.
My dear, there’s nothing I detest more than riddles. I can imagine quite a number of fair ladies who would look without disdain upon a young marquess with fifty thousand a year.
Lady Mereston.
Lady Frederick Berolles.
Fouldes.
By Jupiter!
Lady Mereston.
She’s fifteen years older than he is.
Fouldes.
Then she’s not old enough to be his mother, which is a distinct advantage.
Lady Mereston.
She dyes her hair.
Fouldes.
She dyes it uncommonly well.
Lady Mereston.
She paints.
Fouldes.
Much better than a Royal Academician.
Lady Mereston.
And poor Charlie’s simply infatuated. He rides with her all the morning, motors with her all the afternoon, and gambles with her half the night. I never see him.
Fouldes.
But why should you think Lady Frederick cares two straws for him?
Lady Mereston.
Don’t be ridiculous, Paradine. Every one knows she hasn’t a penny, and she’s crippled with debts.
Fouldes.
One has to keep up appearances in this world. Life nowadays for the woman of fashion is a dilemma of which one horn is the Bankruptcy Court and the other — dear Sir Francis Jeune.
Lady Mereston.
I wish I knew how she manages to dress so beautifully. It’s one of the injustices of fate that clothes only hang on a woman really well when she’s lost every shred of reputation.
Fouldes.
My dear, you must console yourself with the thought that she’ll probably frizzle for it hereafter.
Lady Mereston.
I hope I’m not wicked, Paradine, but to wear draperies and wings in the next world offers me no compensation for looking dowdy in a Paquin gown in this.
Fouldes.
I surmised she was on the verge of bankruptcy when I heard she’d bought a new motor. And you seriously think Charlie wants to marry her?
Lady Mereston.
I’m sure of it.
Fouldes.
And what d’you want me to do?
&nb
sp; Lady Mereston.
Good heavens, I want you to prevent it. After all he has a magnificent position; he’s got every chance of making a career for himself. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be Prime Minister — it’s not fair to the boy to let him marry a woman like that.
Fouldes.
Of course you know Lady Frederick?
Lady Mereston.
My dear Paradine, we’re the greatest friends. You don’t suppose I’m going to give her the advantage of quarrelling with me. I think I shall ask her to luncheon to meet you.
Fouldes.
Women have such an advantage over men in affairs of this sort. They’re troubled by no scruples, and, like George Washington, never hesitate to lie.
Lady Mereston.
I look upon her as an abandoned creature, and I tell you frankly I shall stop at nothing to save my son from her clutches.
Fouldes.
Only a thoroughly good woman could so calmly announce her intention of using the crookedest ways to gain her ends.
Lady Mereston.
[Looking at him.] There must be some incident in her career which she wouldn’t like raked up. If we could only get hold of that....
Fouldes.
[Blandly.] How d’you imagine I can help you?
Lady Mereston.
A reformed burglar is always the best detective.
Fouldes.
My dear, I wish you could be frank without being sententious.
Lady Mereston.
You’ve run through two fortunes, and if we all got our deserts you would be starving now instead of being richer than ever.
Fouldes.
My second cousins have a knack of dying at the psychological moment.
Lady Mereston.
You’ve been a horrid, dissipated wretch all your life, and heaven knows the disreputable people who’ve been your bosom friends.
Fouldes.
With my knowledge of the world and your entire lack of scruple we should certainly be a match for one defenceless woman.
Lady Mereston.
[Looking at him sharply.] Common report says that at one time you were very much in love with her.
Fouldes.
Common report is an ass whose long ears only catch its own braying.
Lady Mereston.
I was wondering how far things went. If you could tell Charlie of the relations between you....
Fouldes.
My good Maud, there were no relations — unfortunately.
Lady Mereston.
Poor George was very uneasy about you at the time.
Fouldes.
Your deceased husband, being a strictly religious man, made a point of believing the worst about his neighbours.
Lady Mereston.
Don’t, Paradine; I know you didn’t like one another, but remember that I loved him with all my heart. I shall never get over his death.
Fouldes.
My dear girl, you know I didn’t mean to wound you.
Lady Mereston.
After all, it was largely your fault. He was deeply religious, and as the president of the Broad Church Union he couldn’t countenance your mode of life.
Fouldes.
[With great unction.] Thank God in my day I’ve been a miserable sinner!
Lady Mereston.
[Laughing.] You’re quite incurable, Paradine. But you will help me now. Since his father’s death, the boy and I have lived a very retired life, and now we’re quite helpless. It would break my heart if Charlie married that woman.
Fouldes.
I’ll do my best. I think I can promise you that nothing will come of it.
[The door is flung open, and Lady Frederick
enters, followed by Mereston, a young
boyish man of twenty-two; by her brother,
Sir Gerald O’Mara, a handsome fellow of
six-and-twenty; by Captain Montgomerie,
Admiral Carlisle, and Rose, his daughter.
Lady Frederick is a handsome Irish
woman of thirty to thirty-five, beautifully
dressed. She is very vivacious, and light-hearted.
She has all the Irish recklessness
and unconcern for the morrow. Whenever
she wants to get round anybody she falls
into an Irish brogue, and then, as she knows
very well, she is quite irresistible. Captain
Montgomerie is a polished, well-groomed
man of thirty-five, with suave manners.
The Admiral is bluff and downright.
Rose is a pretty ingénue of nineteen.
Lady Mereston.
Here they are.
Lady Frederick.
[Enthusiastically going to him with open arms.] Paradine! Paradine! Paradine!
Mererston.
Oh, my prophetic soul, mine uncle!
Fouldes.
[Shaking hands with Lady Frederick.] I heard you were at the Casino.
Lady Frederick.
Charlie lost all his money, so I brought him away.
Lady Mereston.
I wish you wouldn’t gamble, Charlie dear.
Mererston.
My dear mother, I’ve only lost ten thousand francs.
Lady Frederick.
[To Paradine Fouldes.] I see you’re in your usual robust health.
Fouldes.
You needn’t throw it in my face. I shall probably be very unwell to-morrow.
Lady Frederick.
D’you know Admiral Carlisle? This is my brother Gerald.
Fouldes.
[Shaking hands.] How d’you do?
Lady Frederick.
[Introducing.] Captain Montgomerie.
Captain Montgomerie.
I think we’ve met before.
Fouldes.
I’m very pleased to hear it. How d’you do. [To Mererston.] Are you having a good time in Monte Carlo, Charles?
Mererston.
A 1, thanks.
Fouldes.
And what do you do with yourself?
Mererston.
Oh, hang about generally, you know — and there’s always the tables.
Fouldes.
That’s right, my boy; I’m glad to see that you prepare yourself properly for your duties as a hereditary legislator.
Mererston.
[Laughing.] Oh, shut it, Uncle Paradine.
Fouldes.
I rejoice also to find that you have already a certain command of the vernacular.
Mererston.
Well, if you can browbeat a London cabby and hold your own in repartee with a barmaid, it oughtn’t to be difficult to get on all right in the House of Lords.
Fouldes.
But let me give you a solemn warning. You have a magnificent chance, dear boy, with all the advantages of wealth and station. I beseech you not to throw it away by any exhibition of talent. The field is clear and the British people are waiting for a leader. But remember that the British people like their leaders dull. Capacity they mistrust, versatility they cannot bear, and wit they utterly abhor. Look at the fate of poor Lord Parnaby. His urbanity gained him the premiership, but his brilliancy overthrew him. How could the fortunes of the nation be safe with a man whose speeches were pointed and sparkling, whose mind was so quick, so agile, that it reminded you of a fencer’s play? Every one is agreed that Lord Parnaby is flippant and unsubstantial; we doubt his principles and we have grave fears about his morality. Take warning, my dear boy, take warning. Let the sprightly epigram never lighten the long periods of your speech nor the Attic salt flavour the roast beef of your conversation. Be careful that your metaphors show no imagination and conceal your brains as you would a discreditable secret. Above all, if you have a sense of humour, crush it. Crush it.
Mereston.
My dear uncle, you move me very much. I will be as stupid as an owl.
Fouldes.
There’s a good, brave boy.
Mereston.
I wi
ll be heavy and tedious.
Fouldes.
I see already the riband of the Garter adorning your shirt-front. Remember, there’s no damned merit about that.
Mereston.
None shall listen to my speeches without falling into a profound sleep.
Fouldes.
[Seizing his hand.] The premiership itself is within your grasp.
Lady Mereston.
Dear Paradine, let us take a stroll on the terrace before we go to bed.
Fouldes.
And you shall softly whisper all the latest scandal in my ear.
[He puts on her cloak and they go out.
Lady Frederick.
May I speak to you, Admiral?
Admiral.
Certainly, certainly. What can I do for you?
[While Lady Frederick and the Admiral talk,
the others go slowly out. Through the
conversation she uses her Irish brogue.
Lady Frederick.
Are you in a good temper?
Admiral.
Fairly, fairly.
Lady Frederick.
I’m glad of that because I want to make you a proposal of marriage.
Admiral.
My dear Lady Frederick, you take me entirely by surprise.
Lady Frederick.
[Laughing.] Not on my own behalf, you know.
Admiral.
Oh, I see.
Lady Frederick.
The fact is, my brother Gerald has asked your daughter to marry him, and she has accepted.
Admiral.
Rose is a minx, Lady Frederick, and she’s much too young to marry.
Lady Frederick.
Now don’t fly into a passion. We’re going to talk it over quite calmly.
Admiral.
I tell you I won’t hear of it. The boy’s penniless.
Lady Frederick.
That’s why it’s so lucky you’re rich.
Admiral.
Eh?
Lady Frederick.
You’ve been talking of buying a place in Ireland. You couldn’t want anything nicer than Gerald’s — gravel soil, you know. And you simply dote on Elizabethan architecture.
Admiral.
I can’t bear it.
Lady Frederick.
How fortunate, then, that the house was burnt down in the eighteenth century and rebuilt in the best Georgian style.
Admiral.
Ugh.
Lady Frederick.
And you’d love to have little grandsons to dandle on your knee.
Admiral.
How do I know they wouldn’t be girls?
Lady Frederick.
Oh, it’s most unusual in our family.
Admiral.
I tell you I won’t hear of it.
Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated) Page 320