BARBARA: No — well — you should have seen that I did. It doesn’t do me any good, if a man dies for love of me, unless there is some answer in me, so that it lives in me.
FREDERICK: I ought to have killed myself rather than marry you.
BARBARA: But I couldn’t help that, could I?
FREDERICK: No, you could help nothing. You could only throw me away like waste-paper that had wrapped up a few years of your life.
BARBARA: I’m sorry, Frederick. I’ll do what I can; I will, really.
FREDERICK: What will you do?
BARBARA: Don’t you trust me?
FREDERICK: Trust you, yes! You can go on doing as you like with me.
BARBARA: There you are, you see, resigned. Resigned from the very start — resigned to lose. You are, and you always were.
FREDERICK: Very well, you little devil — it seems you were determined —
BARBARA: What?
FREDERICK: To destroy me.
BARBARA (going and putting her arms round his neck): No — no, Frederick. I’d do an awful lot for you — I really would — I have loved you.
FREDERICK: What, for example?
BARBARA: I’d help you with the people in Chislehurst — come and live for a time in the same house.
FREDERICK (holding her by the arms and looking in her eyes): Will you give up this man and come back to me?
BARBARA: Oh — what’s the good of promising, Frederick — I might only break it again. Don’t force me.
FREDERICK: Will you try? Will you try me again for three months?
BARBARA: Come and live with you again?
FREDERICK: Yes.
BARBARA: As your wife?
FREDERICK: Yes.
BARBARA: Altogether as your wife?
FREDERICK: Yes — or even — at first —
BARBARA (piteously): I don’t know, Frederick.
FREDERICK: Will you think about it?
BARBARA: But I don’t know! What is the good of thinking about it? But I don’t know, Frederick.
FREDERICK: You can make up your mind.
BARBARA: But I can’t — I can’t — it pulls both ways. I don’t know, Frederick.
FREDERICK: Will you know better to-morrow — will you come, then, and tell me — will you?
BARBARA: But I shan’t know any better to-morrow. It’s now! And I can’t tell. Don’t make me decide, Frederick!
FREDERICK: What?
BARBARA: Which way. Don’t make me decide! (She goes and sits on the couch, hiding her face in a cushion.)
FREDERICK (suddenly flings his arms on the table and sobs): Oh, good God — I can’t bear it!
BARBARA (looks at him, goes and puts her hand on his shoulder): Don’t, Frederick — don’t! I will make up my mind, I will!
FREDERICK (his face muffled): I can’t stand it.
BARBARA: No, dear. (He sobs — she touches his hair.) Don’t! Don’t! You shall — I will do — what I can.
FREDERICK (his face still hidden): It will kill me, Barbara.
BARBARA: No, dear — no, it won’t. I must think of something. I will tell you to-morrow. I will come and tell you —
FREDERICK (his face still hidden): What?
BARBARA: I don’t know, dear — but I will see — I will come. Look at me — look at me. (He lifts his face.) Dear! (He folds her in his arms — she puts her head back as he kisses her.) There’s Mama! He listens — hears a sound, snatches his hat and dashes out — BARBARA turns to the piano — straightens her hair — stands waiting. Enter LADY CHARLCOTE.
LADY CHARLCOTE: Has Frederick gone?
BARBARA: Yes.
Enter WESSON.
LADY CHARLCOTE: What have you decided?
BARBARA: I don’t know.
LADY CHARLCOTE: That’s no answer. Have you decided nothing?
BARBARA: No.
LADY CHARLCOTE: I hope he won’t go and jump in the lake.
BARBARA: I said I’d see him to-morrow.
LADY CHARLCOTE: Then he won’t be such a fool. How did he behave?
BARBARA: Oh, don’t talk about it, Mama!
LADY CHARLCOTE: And are you coming to the Monte Baldo tomorrow then?
BARBARA: Yes.
LADY CHARLCOTE: What time?
BARBARA: In the morning — about eleven.
LADY CHARLCOTE: And you’ll bring him your answer then?
BARBARA: Yes.
LADY CHARLCOTE: Well, you must decide for the best for yourself. Only don’t go and make a double mess of it, that’s all.
BARBARA: How do you mean, a double mess?
LADY CHARLCOTE: You’ll have to stick to one or the other now, at any rate — so you’d better stick to the one you can live with, and not to the one you can do without — for if you get the wrong one, you might as well drown two people then instead of one.
BARBARA: I don’t know — I shall know to-morrow, Mama. Good night.
LADY CHARLCOTE (kissing her — crying): Well — all you can do now is to make the bed for yourself. Good night! Oh, don’t trouble to come out, Mr Wesson, don’t.
WESSON follows her. Exit both. BARBARA sits down and begins to play a waltz on the piano. Re-enter WESSON.
WESSON: Frederick wasn’t far off — he hadn’t drowned himself.
BARBARA goes on playing.
WESSON: I don’t particularly want to hear that piano, Barbara.
BARBARA: Don’t you? (Plays a few more bars, then stops.) What do you want?
WESSON: So you are going to see him to-morrow.
BARBARA: I am.
WESSON: What for?
BARBARA (hesitating): To tell him I’ll go back to him.
She remains with her back to WESSON — he sits at the table. There is dead silence.
WESSON: Did you tell him that tonight?
BARBARA: No.
WESSON: Why not?
BARBARA: Because I didn’t want to.
WESSON: Did you give him hopes of that answer?
BARBARA: I don’t know.
WESSON: You do! Tell me.
BARBARA: I say I don’t know.
WESSON: Then you’re lying. I don’t believe you intended to tell him that. I believe you say it to make me wild.
BARBARA: I don’t.
WESSON: Then go now.
BARBARA: I said I’d go to-morrow.
WESSON: If you’re going back to Frederick in the morning, you’re not going to spend a night under this roof — hear that?
BARBARA: Why not? I’ve spent a good many nights under this roof — what does one more or less matter?
WESSON: While you’ve been with me here I considered you as a woman who wanted to stick to me as a wife — and as anything else I don’t want you.
BARBARA: Very much as a wife you considered me at first — you were as unsure of us as ever I was.
WESSON: That was at the very first.
BARBARA: Was it — was it?
WESSON: Whether or not — that’s what I say now.
BARBARA: “Whether or not!” — you would say that. At any rate, Frederick wouldn’t say “whether or not”.
WESSON: And you want to go back to him?
BARBARA: All men are alike. They don’t care what a woman wants. They try to get hold of what they want themselves, as if it were a pipe. As for the woman, she’s not considered — and so — that’s where you make your mistake, gentlemen.
WESSON: Want? What do you want?
BARBARA: That’s for you to find out.
WESSON: What you want is some of the conceit knocking out of you.
BARBARA: You do it, Mr Tuppeny-ha’penny.
WESSON: If Frederick hadn’t been such a damn fool he’d have taken you down a peg or two. Now, you think yourself so blighted high and mighty that nobody’s good enough to dangle after you.
BARBARA: Only a little puppy-dog that barks at my skirts.
WESSON: Very well, then the little puppy-dog will bark. Are you going to see Frederick in the morning?
BARBAR
A: Yes.
WESSON: And are you going to tell him, then, that you’re going back to him?
BARBARA: I don’t know.
WESSON: You must know then, because if you are, you’re not going to stop the night in this house.
BARBARA: Pooh! What do I care about your house?
WESSON: You know it was really you who wanted it, and whose it is.
BARBARA: As if I care for this house — I’d leave it any minute. I’ll leave it now.
WESSON: If you’re going to go back to Frederick, leave it now. I ask you to.
BARBARA: Oh, very well — that is soon done.
She goes out quickly.
CURTAIN
ACT IV
Ten minutes later. WESSON is smoking. Enter BARBARA, dressed, with her hat on.
BARBARA: Here I am, then!
WESSON: Are you going straight to Gardone, to the Monte Baldo?
BARBARA: No — I’m going to the Hotel Cervo.
WESSON: But you can’t — she knows us, the landlady — and thinks we’re man and wife. You can’t make that mess. If you’re going, go straight to Frederick to-night — I’ll see you there.
BARBARA: I’m not going to Frederick to-night — I’m not going to Gardone — I’m going to the Hotel Cervo.
WESSON: How much money have you got?
BARBARA: None.
WESSON: Then I won’t give you any.
BARBARA: Don’t you trouble — I wouldn’t take any of your money.
WESSON: Have you got your night-things in the handbag?
BARBARA: Yes.
WESSON: Some soap — some hankies?
BARBARA: No — forgotten ‘em.
WESSON: You would.
Exit — comes running back in a moment, puts the things in her bag.
BARBARA: Thank you.
WESSON: And your box I’ll pack to-morrow. The things you said were mine I shall put in.
BARBARA: You needn’t.
WESSON: I shall. I’ve never given you anything, so you’ve nothing to return.
BARBARA: No — you were always stingy.
WESSON: Very well — Frederick isn’t.
BARBARA: I suppose it’s having been brought up so poor, you can’t help it.
WESSON: We won’t discuss me now, nor my bringing-up.
BARBARA: Oh, alright!
WESSON: I consider I owe you, of money you had, about eleven pounds. I’ll be stingy and keep one of them. Here’s ten out of the forty we’d got.
BARBARA: I shan’t have them.
WESSON: You can’t go without any money.
BARBARA: Yes, I can.
WESSON: No, you can’t. If you don’t have these ten pounds, I’ll post them to Frederick to you.
BARBARA: Alright.
WESSON (feeling in his pocket): Well, have ten lire, at any rate.
BARBARA: No, I won’t have anything.
WESSON: You ought to be murdered for your obstinacy.
BARBARA: Not twice in one night.
WESSON: Very well, then — I will come with you down the village, since you’re frightened of the men.
BARBARA: You needn’t — I’m not frightened.
WESSON: No — you’re too damned high and mighty to possess a single one of the human virtues or vices, you are! (A silence.) Do you want to go, really?
BARBARA: Yes.
WESSON: Liar! — Liar! — you are showing off! (Snatches the handbag and flings it into the kitchen.) Fool’s idiotic theatrical game. Take that hat off.
BARBARA: You’re giving your orders.
WESSON: Alright. (Seizes the hat, flings it through the door.)
BARBARA (flashing): What are you doing?
WESSON: Stopping you being a fool. Take your coat off.
BARBARA: I shall take my coat off when I please. Indeed, you needn’t show off, for the minute I want to walk out of this house I shall walk out, and you nor anybody else will prevent me.
WESSON (taking up his position with his back to the door): Alright — you want to walk out now, and see!
BARBARA: If I want to —
WESSON: Want to, then —
BARBARA (with a laugh of scorn): Ha — you stop me! (Marches up to him with her breast high. He stands immovable.) Come out! (He shakes his head.) Come out!
WESSON: I told you I wouldn’t.
BARBARA: Won’t you?
Seizes him. He grapples with her. They struggle. He forces her backward, flings her with a smash on to the couch.
WESSON: You shan’t! (Goes and locks the door — stands at a loss.)
BARBARA (recovering): It’s very heroic — but I go to-morrow, whether or not.
WESSON: You’ll pass the night in this room then. (He sits down — there is silence for some minutes — at last he looks up, speaks falteringly.) You don’t want to leave me, do you, Barbara? (No answer.) You don’t want to? (Silence.) Well, whether you think you do or not, I shall never believe you want to leave me, not really — so there! (A silence.)
BARBARA: A woman couldn’t want to leave such a wonder as you, you think.
WESSON: You can’t want to leave me.
BARBARA: Why not?
WESSON (sulkily): Because I don’t believe you can. (There is a silence.)
BARBARA (with difficulty): A sort of faith performance!
He looks at her steadily, rises, goes and sits beside her.
WESSON: Barbican!
BARBARA (dropping her head on his shoulder with a cry): It’s so hard on him, Giacomo.
WESSON (putting his arms round her): Never mind, he’ll suffer at first, then he’ll get better.
BARBARA (crying): He won’t.
WESSON: He will — he shall — he shall! And you’ll see he will. He’ll be alright in the end. You were too big a mouthful for him to swallow, and he was choking.
BARBARA: But I make him suffer so.
WESSON (kissing and kissing her): No — it’s my fault. You don’t want to leave me, do you?
BARBARA: I don’t know what to do.
WESSON: Stay with me, Barbican, my darling, and we’ll manage that he’s alright.
BARBARA: It’s not fair when a man goes loving you so much when you don’t love him — it makes you feel as if you’d have to go back to him.
WESSON: You can’t go back to him — it would be wrong. His love isn’t living for you.
BARBARA: It isn’t, is it, Giacomo?
WESSON: No — kiss me, Barbara, will you? (She kisses him.) I love you, Barbara.
BARBARA: Do you really love me?
WESSON: Malheureusement.
BARBARA: He says that.
WESSON: And I don’t mean it. I’m glad I love you, even if you torture me into hell.
BARBARA: But do you love me an awful lot?
WESSON: More than enough.
BARBARA: Really?
WESSON: Truly.
BARBARA: But if he dies, I shall torment the life out of you.
WESSON: You’ll do that anyway.
BARBARA (looking up — taking his face between her hands): Shall I? — No! — Say no — say I am a joy to you.
WESSON: You are a living joy to me, you are — especially this evening.
BARBARA (laughs): No — but am I really?
WESSON: Yes.
BARBARA: Kiss me — kiss me — and love me — love me a fearful lot — love me a fearful lot.
WESSON: I do. And to-morrow you’ll just say to Frederick, “I can’t come back — divorce me if you love me.” You’ll say it, won’t you? (kissing her.)
Complete Works of D.H. Lawrence Page 706