Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)
Page 323
[Bursting out.] Did you ever hear such a conversation in your life between a young unmarried couple?
Rose.
My dear papa, we must be prepared for everything.
Admiral.
In my youth young ladies did not refer to things of that sort.
Lady Frederick.
Well, I don’t suppose they’re any the worse for having an elementary knowledge of natural history. Personally I doubt whether ignorance is quite the same thing as virtue, and I’m not quite sure that a girl makes a better wife because she’s been brought up like a perfect fool.
Admiral.
I am old-fashioned, Lady Frederick; and my idea of a modest girl is that when certain topics are mentioned she should swoon. Swoon, madam, swoon. They always did it when I was a lad.
Rose.
Well, father, I’ve often tried to faint when I wanted something that you wouldn’t give me, and I’ve never been able to manage it. So I’m sure I couldn’t swoon.
Admiral.
And with regard to this ridiculous discussion as to which University your son is to be sent, you seem to forget that I have the right to be consulted.
Gerald.
My dear Admiral, I don’t see how it can possibly matter to you.
Admiral.
And before we go any further I should like you to know that the very day Rose was born I determined that her son should go to Cambridge.
Rose.
My dear papa, I think Gerald and I are far and away the best judges of our son’s welfare.
Admiral.
The boy must work, Rose. I will have no good-for-nothing as my grandson.
Gerald.
Exactly. And that is why I’m resolved he shall go to Dublin.
Rose.
The important thing is that he should have really nice manners, and that they teach at Oxford if they teach nothing else.
Lady Frederick.
Well, don’t you think you’d better wait another twenty years or so before you discuss this?
Admiral.
There are some matters which must be settled at once, Lady Frederick.
Lady Frederick.
You know, young things are fairly independent nowadays. I don’t know what they’ll be in twenty years’ time.
Gerald.
The first thing the boy shall learn is obedience.
Rose. Certainly. There’s nothing so hateful as a disobedient child.
Admiral.
I can’t see my grandson venturing to disobey me.
Lady Frederick.
Then you’re all agreed. So that’s settled. I came to tell you your carriage was ready.
Admiral.
Go and put on your bonnet, Rose. [To Lady Frederick.] Are you coming with us?
Lady Frederick.
I’m afraid I can’t. Au revoir.
Admiral.
A tout à l’heure.
[He and Rose go out.
Gerald.
Have you ever seen in your life any one so entirely delightful as Rose?
Lady Frederick.
[Laughing.] Only when I’ve looked in the glass.
Gerald.
My dear Elizabeth, how vain you are.
Lady Frederick.
You’re very happy, my Gerald.
Gerald.
It’s such a relief to have got over all the difficulties. I thought it never would come right. You are a brick, Elizabeth.
Lady Frederick.
I really think I am rather.
Gerald.
The moment you promised to arrange things I felt as safe as a house.
Lady Frederick.
I said I’d do my best, didn’t I? And I told you not to worry.
Gerald.
[Turning round suddenly.] Isn’t it all right?
Lady Frederick.
No, it’s about as wrong as it can possibly be. I knew Cohen was staying here, and I thought I could get him to hold the bills over for a few days.
Gerald.
And won’t he?
Lady Frederick.
He hasn’t got them any more.
Gerald.
[Startled.] What!
Lady Frederick.
They’ve been negotiated, and he swears he doesn’t know who has them.
Gerald.
But who could have been such a fool?
Lady Frederick.
I don’t know, that’s just the awful part of it. It was bad enough before. I knew the worst Cohen could do, but now.... It couldn’t be Paradine.
Gerald.
And then there’s Montgomerie.
Lady Frederick.
I shall see him to-day.
Gerald.
What are you going to say to him?
Lady Frederick.
I haven’t an idea. I’m rather frightened of him.
Gerald.
You know, dear, if the worst comes to the worst....
Lady Frederick.
Whatever happens you shall marry Rose. I promise you that.
[Paradine Fouldes appears.
Fouldes.
May I come in?
Lady Frederick.
[Gaily.] It’s a public room. I don’t see how we can possibly prevent you.
Gerald.
I’m just going to take a stroll.
Lady Frederick.
Do.
[He goes out.
Fouldes.
Well? How are things going?
Lady Frederick.
Quite well, thank you.
Fouldes.
I’ve left Charlie with his mother. I hope you can spare him for a couple of hours.
Lady Frederick.
I told him he must spend the afternoon with her. I don’t approve of his neglecting his filial duty.
Fouldes.
Ah!... I saw Dick Cohen this morning.
Lady Frederick.
[Quickly.] Did you?
Fouldes.
It seems to interest you?
Lady Frederick.
Not at all. Why should it?
Fouldes.
[Smiling.] Nice little man, isn’t he?
Lady Frederick.
[Good humouredly.] I wish I had something to throw at you.
Fouldes.
[With a laugh.] Well, I haven’t got the confounded bills. I was too late.
Lady Frederick.
Did you try?
Fouldes.
Oh — yes, I thought it would interest Charlie to know how extremely needful it was for you to marry him.
Lady Frederick.
Then who on earth has got them?
Fouldes.
I haven’t an idea, but they must make you very uncomfortable. Three thousand five hundred, eh?
Lady Frederick.
Don’t say it all at once. It sounds so much.
Fouldes.
You wouldn’t like to exchange those letters of Mereston’s for seven thousand pounds, would you?
Lady Frederick.
[Laughing.] No.
Fouldes.
Ah.... By the way, d’you mind if I tell Charlie the full story of your — relations with me?
Lady Frederick.
Why should I? It’s not I who’ll look ridiculous.
Fouldes.
Thanks. I may avail myself of your permission.
Lady Frederick.
I daresay you’ve noticed that Charlie has a very keen sense of humour.
Fouldes.
If you’re going to be disagreeable to me I shall go. [He stops.] I say, are you quite sure there’s nothing else that can be brought up against you?
Lady Frederick.
[Laughing.] Quite sure, thanks.
Fouldes.
My sister’s very jubilant to-day. What about the Bellingham affair?
Lady Frederick.
Merely scandal, my friend.
Fouldes.
Well, look out. She’s a woman, and she’ll stick at nothing.
Lady F
rederick.
I wonder why you warn me.
Fouldes.
For the sake of old times, my dear.
Lady Frederick.
You’re growing sentimental, Paradine. It’s the punishment which the gods inflict on a cynic when he grows old.
Fouldes.
It may be, but for the life of me I can’t forget that once ——
Lady Frederick.
[Interrupting.] My dear friend, don’t rake up my lamentable past.
Fouldes.
I don’t think I’ve met any one so entirely devoid of sentiment as you are.
Lady Frederick.
Let us agree that I have every vice under the sun and have done with it.
[A Servant comes in.]
Servant.
Madame Claude wishes to see your ladyship.
Lady Frederick.
Oh, my dressmaker.
Fouldes.
Another bill?
Lady Frederick.
That’s the worst of Monte. One meets as many creditors as in Bond Street. Say I’m engaged.
Servant.
Madame Claude says she will wait till miladi is free.
Fouldes.
You make a mistake. One should always be polite to people whose bills one can’t pay.
Lady Frederick.
Show her in.
Servant.
Yes, miladi.
[Exit Servant.
Fouldes.
Is it a big one?
Lady Frederick.
Oh, no; only seven hundred pounds.
Fouldes.
By Jove.
Lady Frederick.
My dear friend, one must dress. I can’t go about in fig-leaves.
Fouldes.
One can dress simply.
Lady Frederick.
I do. That’s why it costs so much.
Fouldes.
You know, you’re devilish extravagant.
Lady Frederick.
I’m not. I’m content with the barest necessities of existence.
Fouldes.
You’ve got a maid.
Lady Frederick.
Of course I’ve got a maid. I was never taught to dress myself.
Fouldes.
And you’ve got a footman.
Lady Frederick.
I’ve always had a footman. And my mother always had a footman. I couldn’t live a day without him.
Fouldes.
What does he do for you?
Lady Frederick.
He inspires confidence in tradesmen.
Fouldes.
And you have the most expensive suite of rooms in the hotel.
Lady Frederick.
I’m in such a dreadful mess. If I hadn’t got nice rooms I should brood over it.
Fouldes.
Then, as if that weren’t enough, you fling your money away at the tables.
Lady Frederick.
When you’re as poor as I am, a few louis more or less can make absolutely no difference.
Fouldes.
[With a laugh.] You’re quite incorrigible.
Lady Frederick.
It’s really not my fault. I do try to be economical, but money slips through my fingers like water. I can’t help it.
Fouldes.
You want a sensible sort of a man to look after you.
Lady Frederick.
I want a very rich sort of a man to look after me.
Fouldes.
If you were my wife, I should advertise in the papers that I wasn’t responsible for your debts.
Lady Frederick.
If you were my husband, I’d advertise immediately underneath that I wasn’t responsible for your manners.
Fouldes.
I wonder why you’re so reckless.
Lady Frederick.
When my husband was alive I was so utterly wretched. And afterwards, when I looked forward to a little happiness, my boy died. Then I didn’t care any more. I did everything I could to stupefy myself. I squandered money as other women take morphia — that’s all.
Fouldes.
It’s the same dear scatter-brained, good-hearted Betsy that I used to know.
Lady Frederick.
You’re the only person who calls me Betsy now. To all the others I’m only Elizabeth.
Fouldes.
Look here, what are you going to do with this dressmaker?
Lady Frederick.
I don’t know. I always trust to the inspiration of the moment.
Fouldes.
She’ll make a devil of a fuss, won’t she?
Lady Frederick.
Oh, no; I shall be quite nice to her.
Fouldes.
I daresay. But won’t she be very disagreeable to you?
Lady Frederick.
You don’t know what a way I have with my creditors.
Fouldes.
I know it’s not a paying way.
Lady Frederick.
Isn’t it? I bet you a hundred louis that I offer her the money and she refuses it.
Fouldes.
I’ll take that.
Lady Frederick.
Here she is.
[Madame Claude enters, ushered in by the
Servant. She is a stout, genteel person,
very splendidly gowned, with a Cockney
accent. Her face is set to sternness, decision
to make a scene, and general sourness.
Servant.
Madame Claude.
[Exit Servant. Lady Frederick goes up to
her enthusiastically and takes both her
hands.
Lady Frederick.
Best of women. This is a joyful surprise.
Madame Claude.
[Drawing herself up.] I ‘eard quite by chance that your ladyship was at Monte.
Lady Frederick.
So you came to see me at once. That was nice of you. You’re the very person I wanted to see.
Madame Claude.
[Significantly.] I’m glad of that, my lady, I must confess.
Lady Frederick.
You dear creature. That’s one advantage of Monte Carlo, one meets all one’s friends. Do you know Mr. Fouldes? This is Madame Claude, an artist, my dear Paradine, a real artist.
Madame Claude.
[Grimly.] I’m pleased that your ladyship should think so.
Fouldes.
How d’you do.
Lady Frederick.
Now, this gown. Look, look, look. In this skirt there’s genius, mon cher. In the way it hangs my whole character is expressed. Observe the fullness of it, that indicates those admirable virtues which make me an ornament to Society, while the frill at the bottom just suggests those foibles — you can hardly call them faults — which add a certain grace and interest to my personality. And the flounce. Paradine, I beseech you to look at it carefully. I would sooner have designed this flounce than won the Battle of Waterloo.
Madame Claude.
Your ladyship is very kind.
Lady Frederick.
Not at all, not at all. You remember that rose chiffon. I wore it the other day, and the dear Archduchess came up to me and said: “My dear, my dear.” I thought she was going to have a fit. But when she recovered she kissed me on both cheeks and said: “Lady Frederick, you have a dressmaker worth her weight in gold.” You heard her, Paradine, didn’t you?
Fouldes.
You forget that I only arrived last night.
Lady Frederick.
Of course. How stupid of me. She’ll be perfectly delighted to hear that you’re in Monte Carlo. But I shall have to break it to her gently.
Madame Claude.
[Unmoved.] I’m sorry to intrude upon your ladyship.
Lady Frederick.
Now what are you talking about? If you hadn’t come to see me I should never have forgiven you.
Madame Claude.
I wanted to have a little talk with your ladyship.
Lady Frederic
k.
Oh, but I hope we shall have many little talks. Have you brought your motor down?
Madame Claude.
Yes.
Lady Frederick.
That’s charming. You shall take me for a drive in it every day. I hope you’re going to stay some time.
Madame Claude.
That depends on circumstances, Lady Frederick. I ‘ave a little business to do here.
Lady Frederick.
Then let me give you one warning — don’t gamble.
Madame Claude.
Oh, no, my lady. I gamble quite enough in my business as it is. I never know when my customers will pay their bills — if ever.
Lady Frederick.
[Slightly taken aback.] Ha, ha, ha.
Fouldes.
[With a deep guffaw.] Ho, ho, ho.
Lady Frederick.
Isn’t she clever? I must tell that to the Archduchess. She’ll be so amused. Ha, ha, ha, ha. The dear Archduchess, you know she loves a little joke. You must really meet her. Will you come and lunch? I know you’d hit it off together.
Madame Claude.
[More genially.] That’s very kind of your ladyship.
Lady Frederick.
My dear, you know perfectly well that I’ve always looked upon you as one of my best friends. Now who shall we have? There’s you and me and the Archduchess. Then I’ll ask Lord Mereston.
Madame Claude.
The Marquess of Mereston, Lady Frederick?
Lady Frederick.
Yes. And Mr. Fouldes, his uncle.
Madame Claude.
Excuse me, are you the Mr. Paradine Fouldes?
Fouldes.
[Bowing.] At your service, madam.
Madame Claude.
I’m so glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fouldes. [Unctuously.] I’ve always heard you’re such a bad man.
Fouldes.
Madam, you overwhelm me with confusion.
Madame Claude.
Believe me, Mr. Fouldes, it’s not the ladies that are married to saints who take the trouble to dress well.
Lady Frederick.
Now we want a third man. Shall we ask my brother — you know Sir Gerald O’Mara, don’t you? Or shall we ask Prince Doniani? Yes, I think we’ll ask the Prince. I’m sure you’d like him. Such a handsome man! That’ll make six.
Madame Claude.
It’s very kind of you, Lady Frederick, but — well, I’m only a tradeswoman, you know.
Lady Frederick.
A tradeswoman? How can you talk such nonsense. You are an artist — a real artist, my dear. And an artist is fit to meet a king.
Madame Claude.
Well, I don’t deny that I’d be ashamed to dress my customers in the gowns I see painted at the Royal Academy.
Lady Frederick.
Then it’s quite settled, isn’t it, Madame Claude — oh, may I call you Ada?
Madame Claude.
Oh, Lady Frederick, I should be very much flattered. But how did you know that was my name?