MRS. H. (Shaking a spoonful of potato chips into her plate.) That’s not a pretty joke.
CAPT. G. No. It’s a reality. (Aside.) I wonder if smashes of this kind are always so raw.
MRS. H. Really, Pip, you’re getting more absurd every day.
CAPT. G. I don’t think you quite understand me. Shall I repeat it?
MRS. H. No! For pity’s sake don’t do that. It’s too terrible, even in fun.
CAPT. G. I’ll let her think it over for a while. But I ought to be horse-whipped.
MRS. H. I want to know what you meant by what you said just now.
CAPT. G. Exactly what I said. No less.
MRS. H. But what have I done to deserve it? What have I done?
CAPT. G. (Aside.) If she only wouldn’t look at me. (Aloud and very slowly, his eyes on his plate.) D’you remember that evening in July, before the Rains broke, when you said that the end would have to come sooner or later — and you wondered for which of us it would come first?
MRS. H. Yes! I was only joking. And you swore that, as long as there was breath in your body, it should never come. And I believed you.
CAPT. G. (Fingering menu-card) Well, it has. That’s all.
A long pause, during which MRS. H. bows her head and rolls the bread-twist into little pellets: G. stares at the oleanders.
MRS. H. (Throwing back her head and laughing naturally.) They train us women well, don’t they, Pip?
CAPT. G. (Brutally, touching shirt-stud.) So far as the expression goes. (Aside.) It isn’t in her nature to take things quietly. There’ll be an explosion yet.
MRS. H. (With a shudder.) Thank you. B-but even Red Indians allow people to wriggle when they’re being tortured, I believe. (Slips fan from girdle and fans slowly: rim of fan level with chin.)
PARTNER ON LEFT. Very close to-night, isn’t it? ‘You find it too much for you?
MRS. H. Oh, no, not in the least. But they really ought to have punkahs, even in your cool Naini Tal, oughtn’t they? (Turns, dropping fan and raising eyebrows.)
CAPT. G. It’s all right. (Aside.) Here comes the storm!
MRS. H. (Her eyes on the tablecloth: fan ready in right hand.) It was very cleverly managed, Pip, and I congratulate you. You swore — you never contented yourself with merely saying a thing — you swore that, as far as lay in your power, you’d make my wretched life pleasant for me. And you’ve denied me the consolation of breaking down. I should have done it — indeed I should. A woman would hardly have thought of this refinement, my kind, considerate friend. (Fan-guard as before.) You have explained things so tenderly and truthfully, too! You haven’t spoken or written a word of warning, and you have let me believe in you till the last minute. You haven’t condescended to give me your reason yet. No! A woman could not have managed it half so well. Are there many men like you in the world?
CAPT. G. I’m sure I don’t know. (To Khitmatgar.) Ohe! Simpkin do.
MRS. H. You call yourself a man of the world, don’t you? Do men of the world behave like Devils when they do a woman the honour to get tired of her?
CAPT. G. I’m sure I don’t know. Don’t speak so loud!
MRS. H. Keep us respectable, O Lord, whatever happens! Don’t be afraid of my compromising you. You’ve chosen your ground far too well, and I’ve been properly brought up. (Lowering fan.) Haven’t you any pity, Pip, except for yourself?
CAPT. G. Wouldn’t it be rather impertinent of me to say that I’m sorry for you?
MRS. H. I think you have said it once or twice before. You’re growing very careful of my feelings. My God, Pip, I was a good woman once! You said I was. You’ve made me what I am. What are you going to do with me? What are you going to do with me? Won’t you say that you are sorry? (Helps herself to iced asparagus.)
CAPT. G. I am sorry for you, if you want the pity of such a brute as
I am. I’m awf’ly sorry for you.
MRS. H. Rather tame for a man of the world. Do you think that that admission clears you?
CAPT. G. What can I do? I can only tell you what I think of myself.
You can’t think worse than that?
MRS. H. Oh, yes, I can! And now, will you tell me the reason of all this? Remorse? Has Bayard been suddenly conscience-stricken?
CAPT. G. (Angrily, his eyes still lowered.) No! The thing has come to an end on my side. That’s all. Mafisch!
MRS. H. ‘That’s all. Mafisch!’ As though I were a Cairene Dragoman.
You used to make prettier speeches. D’you remember when you said — -?
CAPT. G. For Heaven’s sake don’t bring that back! Call me anything you like and I’ll admit it —
MRS. H. But you don’t care to be reminded of old lies? If I could hope to hurt you one-tenth as much as you have hurt me to-night — No, I wouldn’t — I couldn’t do it — liar though you are.
CAPT. G. I’ve spoken the truth.
MRS. H. My dear Sir, you flatter yourself. You have lied over the reason. Pip, remember that I know you as you don’t know yourself. You have been everything to me, though you are — (Fan-guard.) Oh, what a contemptible Thing it is! And so you are merely tired of me?
CAPT. G. Since you insist upon my repeating it — Yes.
MRS. H. Lie the first. I wish I knew a coarser word. Lie seems so ineffectual in your case. The fire has just died out and there is no fresh one? Think for a minute, Pip, if you care whether I despise you more than I do. Simply Mafisch, is it?
CAPT. G. Yes. (Aside.) I think I deserve this.
MRS. H. Lie number two. Before the next glass chokes you, tell me her name.
CAPT. G. (Aside.). I’ll make her pay for dragging Minnie into the business! (Aloud.) Is it likely?
MRS. H. Very likely if you thought that it would flatter your vanity.
You’d cry my name on the house-tops to make people turn round.
CAPT. G. I wish I had. There would have been an end of this business.
MRS. H. Oh, no, there would not — And so you were going to be virtuous and blase, were you? To come to me and say: ‘I’ve done with you. The incident is clo-osed.’ I ought to be proud of having kept such a man so long.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) It only remains to pray for the end of the dinner. (Aloud.) You know what I think of myself.
MRS. H. As it’s the only person in the world you ever do think of, and as I know your mind thoroughly, I do. You want to get it all over and — Oh, I can’t keep you back! And you’re going — think of it, Pip — to throw me over for another woman. And you swore that all other women were — Pip, my Pip! She can’t care for you as I do. Believe me, she can’t! Is it any one that I know?
CAPT. G. Thank Goodness it isn’t. (Aside.) I expected a cyclone, but not an earthquake.
MRS. H. She can’t! Is there anything that I wouldn’t do for you — or haven’t done? And to think that I should take this trouble over you, knowing what you are! Do you despise me for it?
CAPT. G. (Wiping his mouth to hide a smile.) Again? It’s entirely a work of charity on your part.
MRS. H. Ahhh! But I have no right to resent it. — Is she better-looking than I? Who was it said — ?
CAPT G. No — not that!
MRS. H. I’ll be more merciful than you were. Don’t you know that all women are alike?
CAPT. G. (Aside.) Then this is the exception that proves the rule.
MRS. H. All of them! I’ll tell you anything you like. I will, upon my word! They only want the admiration — from anybody — no matter who — anybody! But there is always one man that they care for more than any one else in the world, and would sacrifice all the others to. Oh, do listen! I’ve kept the Vaynor man trotting after me like a poodle, and he believes that he is the only man I am interested in. I’ll tell you what he said to me.
CAPT. G. Spare him. (Aside.) I wonder what his version is.
MRS. H. He’s been waiting for me to look at him all through dinner.
Shall I do it, and you can see what an idiot he looks?
CAPT. G. �
��But what imports the nomination of this gentleman?’
MRS. H. Watch! (Sends a glance to the Vaynor man, who tries vainly to combine a mouthful of ice pudding, a smirk of self-satisfaction, a glare of intense devotion, and the stolidity of a British dining countenance.)
CAPT. G. (Critically.) He doesn’t look pretty. Why didn’t you wait till the spoon was out of his mouth?
MRS. H. To amuse you. She’ll make an exhibition of you as I’ve made of him; and people will laugh at you. Oh, Pip, can’t you see that? It’s as plain as the noonday sun. You’ll be trotted about and told lies, and made a fool of like the others. I never made a fool of you, did I?
CAPT. G. (Aside.) What a clever little woman it is!
MRS. H. Well, what have you to say?
CAPT. G. I feel better.
MRS. H. Yes, I suppose so, after I have come down to your level. I couldn’t have done it if I hadn’t cared for you so much. I have spoken the truth.
CAPT. G. It doesn’t alter the situation.
MRS. H. (Passionately.) Then she has said that she cares for you!
Don’t believe her, Pip. It’s a lie — as bad as yours to me!
CAPT. G. Ssssteady! I’ve a notion that a friend of yours is looking at you.
MRS. H. He! I hate him. He introduced you to me.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) And some people would like women to assist in making the laws. Introduction to imply condonement. (Aloud.) Well, you see, if you can remember so far back as that, I couldn’t, in common politeness, refuse the offer.
MRS. H. In common politeness! We have got beyond that!
CAPT. G. (Aside.) Old ground means fresh trouble, (Aloud.) On my honour —
MRS. H. Your what? Ha, ha!
CAPT. G. Dishonour, then. She’s not what you imagine. I meant to —
MRS. H. Don’t tell me anything about her! She won’t care for you, and when you come back, after having made an exhibition of yourself, you’ll fine me occupied with —
CAPT. G. (Insolently.) You couldn’t while I am alive. (Aside.) If that doesn’t bring her pride to her rescue, nothing will.
MRS. H. (Drawing herself up). Couldn’t do it? I? (Softening.) You’re right. I don’t believe I could — though you are what you are — a coward and a liar in grain.
CAPT. G. It doesn’t hurt so much after your little lecture — with demonstrations.
MRS. H. One mass of vanity! Will nothing ever touch you in this life? There must be a Hereafter if it’s only for the benefit of — -But you will have it all to yourself.
CAPT. G. (Under his eyebrows.) Are you so certain of that?
MRS. H. I shall have had mine in this life; and it will serve me right.
CAPT. G. But the admiration that you insisted on so strongly a moment ago? (Aside.) Oh, I am a brute!
MRS. H. (Fiercely.) Will that console me for knowing that you will go to her with the same words, the same arguments, and the — the same pet names you used to me? And if she cares for you, you two will laugh over my story. Won’t that be punishment heavy enough even for me — even for me? — And it’s all useless. That’s another punishment.
CAPT. G. (Feebly.) Oh, come! I’m not so low as you think.
MRS. H. Not now, perhaps, but you will be. Oh, Pip, if a woman flatters your vanity, there’s nothing on earth that you would not tell her; and no meanness that you would not do. Have I known you so long without knowing that?
CAPT. G. If you can trust me in nothing else — and I don’t see why I should be trusted — you can count upon my holding my tongue.
MRS. H. If you denied everything you’ve said this evening and declared it was all in fun (a long pause), I’d trust you. Not otherwise. All I ask is, don’t tell her my name. Please don’t. A man might forget: a woman never would. (Looks up table and sees hostess beginning to collect eyes.) So it’s all ended, through no fault of mine — Haven’t I behaved beautifully? I’ve accepted your dismissal, and you managed it as cruelly as you could, and I have made you respect my sex, haven’t I? (Arranging gloves and fan.) I only pray that she’ll know you some day as I know you now. I wouldn’t be you then, for I think even your conceit will be hurt. I hope she’ll pay you back the humiliation you’ve brought on me. I hope — No. I don’t. I can’t give you up! I must have something to look forward to or I shall go crazy. When it’s all over, come back to me, come back to me, and you’ll find that you’re my Pip still!
CAPT. G. (Very clearly.) ‘False move, and you pay for it. It’s a girl!
MRS. H. (Rising.) Then it was true! They said — but I wouldn’t insult you by asking. A girl! I was a girl not very long ago. Be good to her, Pip. I daresay she believes in you.
Goes out with an uncertain smile. He watches her through the door, and settles into a chair as the men redistribute themselves.
CAPT. G. Now, if there is any Power who looks after this world, will He kindly tell me what I have done? (Reaching out for the claret, and half aloud.) What have I done?
WITH ANY AMAZEMENT
And are not afraid with any amazement. — Marriage service.
SCENE.-A bachelor’s bedroom — toilet-table arranged with unnatural neatness. CAPTAIN GADSBY asleep and snoring heavily. Time, 10.30 A. M. — a glorious autumn day at Simla. Enter delicately CAPTAIN MAFFLIM of GADSBY’S regiment. Looks at sleeper, and shakes his head murmuring ‘Poor Gaddy.’ Performs violent fantasia with hair-brushes on chair-back.
CAPT. M. Wake up, my sleeping beauty! (Roars.)
’Uprouse ye, then, my merry merry men!
It is our opening day!
It is our opening da-ay!’
Gaddy, the little dicky-birds have been billing and cooing for ever so long; and I’m here!
CAPT. G. (Sitting up and yawning.) ‘Mornin’. This is awf’ly good of you, old fellow. Most awf’ly good of you. ‘Don’t know what I should do without you. On my soul, I don’t. ‘Haven’t slept a wink all night.
CAPT. M. I didn’t get in till half-past eleven. ‘Had a look at you then, and you seemed to be sleeping as soundly as a condemned criminal.
CAPT. G. Jack, if you want to make those disgustingly worn-out jokes, you’d better go away. (With portentous gravity.) It’s the happiest day in my life.
CAPT. M. (Chuckling grimly.) Not by a very long chalk, my son. You’re going through some of the most refined torture you’ve ever known. But be calm. I am with you. ‘Shun! Dress!
CAPT. G. Eh! Wha-at?
CAPT. M. DO you suppose that you are your own master for the next twelve hours? If you do, of course — - (Makes for the door.)
CAPT. G. No! For Goodness’ sake, old man, don’t do that! You’ll see me through, won’t you? I’ve been mugging up that beastly drill, and can’t remember a line of it.
CAPT. M. (Overhauling G’s uniform.) Go and tub. Don’t bother me.
I’ll give you ten minutes to dress in.
Interval, filled by the noise as of one splashing in the bath-room.
CAPT. G. (Emerging from dressing-room.) What time is it?
CAPT. M. Nearly eleven.
CAPT. G. Five hours more. O Lord!
CAPT. M. (Aside.) ‘First sign of funk, that. ‘Wonder if it’s going to spread. (Aloud.) Come along to breakfast.
CAPT. G. I can’t eat anything. I don’t want any breakfast.
CAPT. M. (Aside.) So early! (Aloud.) Captain Gadsby, I order you to eat breakfast, and a dashed good breakfast, too. None of your bridal airs and graces with me!
Leads G. downstairs, and stands over him while he eats two chops.
CAPT. G. (Who has looked at his watch thrice in the last five minutes.) What time is it?
CAPT. M. Time to come for a walk. Light up.
CAPT. G. I haven’t smoked for ten days, and I won’t now. (Takes cheroot which M. has cut for him, and blows smoke through his nose luxuriously.) We aren’t going down the Mall, are we?
CAPT. M. (Aside.) They’re all alike in these stages. (Aloud.) No, my Vestal. We’re going along the quietest road we can find.
CAPT. G. Any chance of seeing Her?
CAPT. M. Innocent! No! Come along, and, if you want me for the final obsequies, don’t cut my eye out with your stick.
CAPT. G. (Spinning round.) I say, isn’t She the dearest creature that ever walked? What’s the time? What comes after ‘wilt thou take this woman’?
CAPT. M, You go for the ring. R’clect it’ll be on the top of my right-hand little ringer, and just be careful how you draw it off, because I shall have the Verger’s fees somewhere in my glove.
CAPT. G. (Walking forward hastily.) D — -the Verger! Come along! It’s past twelve and I haven’t seen Her since yesterday evening. (Spinning round again.) She’s an absolute angel, Jack, and She’s a dashed deal too good for me. Look here, does She come up the aisle on my arm, or how?
CAPT. M. If I thought that there was the least chance of your remembering anything for two consecutive minutes, I’d tell you. Stop passaging about like that!
CAPT. G. (Halting in the middle of the road.) I say, Jack.
CAPT. M. Keep quiet for another ten minutes if you can, you lunatic; and walk!
The two tramp at five miles an hour for fifteen minutes.
CAPT. G. What’s the time? How about that cursed wedding-cake and the slippers? They don’t throw ‘em about in church, do they?
CAPT. M. In-variably. The Padre leads off with his boots.
CAPT. G. Confound your silly soul! Don’t make fun of me. I can’t stand it, and I won’t!
CAPT. M. (Untroubled.) So-ooo, old horse! You’ll have to sleep for a couple of hours this afternoon.
CAPT. G. (Spinning round) I’m not going to be treated like a dashed child. Understand that!
CAPT. M. (Aside) Nerves gone to fiddle-strings. What a day we’re having! (Tenderly putting his hand on G’s. shoulder) My David, how long have you known this Jonathan? Would I come up here to make a fool of you-after all these years?
Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) Page 136