UC-NRLF 1~. ELIZABETH COOPER Jl COMEDY SyGEORGE MOORE r^, r- Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2008 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/coopercOOmoorelizabethrich ELIZABETH COOPER ELIZABETH COOPER A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS BY GEORGE MOORE BOSTON : JOHN W. LUCE k CO DUBLIN : MAUNSEL k CO. LTD 1913 Copyright /pij, George Moore . C C ( * Printed by Ballantyne & Company Ltd London TTie first performance of this play was given at the Hay market Theatre, June 22, igij^ by the Incorporated Stage Society PERSONS IN THE PLAY MARTIN Edith Evans SEBASTIAN DAYNE Reginald Owen MRS. DAYNE Emily Luck LADY THURLOW Joy Chatwyn LEWIS DAVENANT C. V. France GODBY Kenyon Musgrave COUNTESS VON HOENSTADT Miriam Lewes FLETCHER Charles Maunsell LORD THURLOW Val Cuthbert PROFESSOR DAYNE Gedge Twyman LADY KINGSWEIGHT Noel Mackern MISS GASMAN Edith Cuthbert MR. IRETON John R. Collins LADY BASING Irene Ross SIR ROBERT BASING Telford Hughes Acts I and III : Lewis Davenanfs House in Rockminster Act II : Lewis Davenanfs Country House Time : In the Sixties The Play produced by Clifford Brooke 4010GO , > > J > ,>. > » ' ACT I Scene : A room, half drawing-room, half study, in Lewis Davenant's house in Rockminsier. Furni- ture eighteenth century, pictures, china in glass cases. An April afternoon in i860. When the curtain rises Sebastian Dayne is seated at a table writing. Enter Martin. Martin. Mrs. Dayne, sir. Sebastian. Show her in. {Exit Martin. A moment after Mrs. Dayne enters.) Well, mother. [She looks round for a chair.) Let me get you a chair. Mrs. Dayne. Are you busy, Sebastian ? Sebastian. Not very ; finishing a chapter. Mrs. Dayne. Then, perhaps, you can come to tea with me to Lady Thurlow's. I left her with your father ; he was reading his translation of — I can't remember the name. Sebastian. Theocritus ? Mrs. Dayne. Yes, that's the name. I couldn't listen to it any longer, so came on here to you. I could see they were both very glad to get rid of me. Sebastian. That's only your fancy, mother. But tell me, mother, did Lady Thurlow suggest any alternative readings ? 7 . . ', 'B., ',',,'.'' ELIZABETH COOPER * € t * ' t [ t ' ' , f c' you are to have a secretary like Mr. Dayne ! Sebastian. I agree with you, Gabrielle, very lucky ; but I must ask Martin to get some tea. It must be nearly four o'clock. Davenant. He brought you to Claremont Villa instead of taking you to Rockminster because he wanted to show you the room in which " EHzabeth Cooper " was written. Gabrielle. Is this really the room in which you wrote " EHzabeth Cooper," darhng ? \Miy didn't you tell me the moment we came in. There is the table at which you \\Tote, the chair on which you sat, the inkstand into which you dipped your pen. And your manuscripts ? \\Tiere do you keep your manuscripts ? I want to see them. She goes to the table, pulls out the drawers, and takes out a heap of papers. Sebastian. My dear, you mustn't upset those papers. Gabrielle. WTiy shouldn't I see the manuscript of " EHzabeth Cooper ? " Sebastian. What good ? You have read the book. Gabrielle. But I want to see the manuscript of the book that made me love you. Mr. Dayne, do 52 ELIZABETH COOPER look, will you ? Try to find me the manuscript of *' Elizabeth Cooper." Sebastian. We have no manuscript here, Gabrielle, I assure you. Gabrielle. Then I will look at your books. {She gets up on a ladder that is standing beside the book- case.) There is the three-volume edition and the six-shilling edition and the two-shilling picture board, and there — why, there is V edition de luxe. I had no idea you had written so many books. Darhng, how old were you when you began to write ? Sebastian. I think I was about sixteen. Gabrielle. And you are now five-and-twenty. Sebastian. I shall soon be seven-and-twenty. Gabrielle. And in ten years you have written seventeen books ! How very extraordinary ! Now which of these is your first book ? Sebastian. My first book was a volume of poems. Gabrielle. I am disappointed ; I cannot tell you, Lewis, how disappointed I am. Davenant. The Countess hoped to inspire a great literature, and finds that literature already written. Gabrielle. I had no idea my husband's works were so voluminous — seventeen volumes before Davenant. He is seven-and-twenty, and will not stop at seventeen volumes. Gabrielle. Do you think I shall be able to inspire him, Mr. Dayne, to write more books ? I want him to write something that no author has yet quite done to my satisfaction — a story about a married couple, but a long, beautiful, might-be-true ELIZABETH COOPER 53 story. Is might -be -true a real word, Mr. Dayne ? Well, you and Lewis must try not to be envious when I invent a new word. You see, I don't want the husband to be a saint, nor the wife to be an angel ; I just want them to be man and wife, to quarrel as well as to kiss, to have temptations both. But the end must be a happy one, Lewis ; I don't want the Kreutzer Sonata over again. And on some children I must insist. Davenant. How many ? Gabrielle. I don't know how many — perhaps none at all when the story comes to be written. You see, I am always changing my moods and opinions, Mr. Dayne. It is amusing and fatiguing too ; it is like changing one's dress a dozen times a day. But must you really leave us ? Lewis, shall we go to the station with Mr. Dayne ? Sebastian. If you want to, dear. Gabrielle [coming down the steps). Well, let us get our hats. We shall not be a moment, Mr. Dayne. Exeunt. Davenant replaces the books, and a moment after enter Lady Thurlow. Lady Thurlow. Forgive me, Mr. Davenant, for intruding once more, but is it true what I hear, that Sebastian has returned ? My coachman tells me that he saw a lady and gentleman walking from the station toward Claremont Villa, and that the gentleman looked very like Sebastian. [Catching sight of sunshade.) I beg your pardon, I am sure, but I thought you were alone. This sunshade — It cannot be that Sebastian has brought back a 54 ELIZABETH COOPER woman from Vienna with him ? And if he had been guihy of such imprudence, you, Mr. Davenant, I know would not sanction Davenant. He has come back, but he isn't here. He will be in Rockminster a little later. And now, Lady Thurlow, let me beg of you to come at once, for I have to see him there, and if I stay another moment I shall miss the train. You will excuse me ? Lady Thurlow. Let me drive you back. My carriage is at the door. Davenant. Let me see ; but there is no time for thinking. Yes, Lady Thurlow, you shall drive me back. [Exeunt. Davenant is heard outside.) So very kind of you. Enter Sebastian and Gahrielle. Gabrielle [looking round). But where is that dear Mr. Dayne ? Did I say anything very shock- ing, darling ? something that frightened him away ? He not even dared to bid me good-bye. One of my friends say that he never knew a lady who talked such dreadful things as I do, and my eyes look so innocently all the while. You must run after Mr. Dayne and bring him back, for my walk must not be spoiled. Sebastian. I don't know where to run, and I am not in the habit of running after my secretary. Martin will tell us. He rings the hell. Countess. He wouldn't go away without leaving a message for me. You heard me tell him, did you not, that I hate to be disappointed ? [Enter Martin.) Can you tell me quickly if Mr. Dayne has gone to the station to get the train ? Or has he ELIZABETH COOPER 55 gone to the garden to gather me some flowers ? How nice of him, for men so seldom hke flowers. Martin. Lady Thurlow called, your ladyship, and Mr. Dayne has gone back to Rockminster with her in her carriage. Countess. We must pursue them in another carriage. Sebastian. My dear Gabrielle ! Thank you, Martin, that will do. Exit Martin. Gabrielle. Is Lady Thurlow Mr. Dayne 's mis- tress ? But that cannot be, for you told me, darhng, that Mr. Dayne was no longer as fond as he used to be of la jemme de trente ans. Such a malchance I just as I was beginning to be one in the full sense of the word. Or did Mr. Dayne take Lady Thurlow away because she loves you ? Isn't that the busi- ness of secretaries as much as WTiting ? It used to be in the Mddle Ages. Was Mr. Dayne afraid I should make a scene ? I don't make scenes, not as you in England ; I merely cry, and then my nose gets swollen and I have hardly any eyes. You will not make me cry, darhng, by being unfaithful to me ? But of what are you thinking ? Of some woman that you have loved a little bit ? Tell me the truth, dear, and I will forgive you, if it was long ago and if she was not very pretty nor very young ; middle-aged I should prefer it, but not dead, for the dead have a power that the hving ones have not. You didn't desire her, and leave her with a baby which you will ask me to adopt. That I should not like doing — no, never, so please don't ask it. But why, darling, are you making such 56 ELIZABETH COOPER naughty nostrils ? You remind me of my husband that was, and though we are married you said you would always be my lover. Sebastian. I am thinking, Gabrielle, that — Gabrielle, there is nobody in the world for me but you, and if I am anything at all to you will you follow me who have followed you for the last three weeks, journeying from town to town ? — a whimsical literary idea of yours, but I put up with it all for your sake. Now, Gabrielle, will you put up with a little for my sake ? Gabrielle. But, Lewis, what do you want me to do ? Sebastian. Questions are clouds, and there should be no clouds in the beautiful blue heaven of June. Gabrielle. Darling, what you say is poetical, but there are always clouds in the English sky. Sebastian. Then let us go back to Germany. We were happy in Germany — anywhere away from Rockminster. Here I am surrounded with relations and friends. Let us go back to those quaint Rhenish towns and to the time when I used to sit at your feet and tell you the story of my life. Let us go back. Gabrielle. But you have told me the story of your life. Sebastian. No, no, not all of it. Gabrielle. We cannot go away without luggage. Sebastian. Our luggage can follow us. Gabrielle. Then there are your letters and business with Mr. Dayne. Ach I why did Mr. Dayne go away like this ? ELIZABETH COOPER 57 Sebastian. You were interested in him the moment you came into the room. The most capri- cious woman in the world, hke the wind that blows, the thistledown in the air. Men are your amuse- ment, your pleasure ; the old succeed the young and the ugly the beautiful. You said you had hot finger-tips the moment you met me in the railway train, and when you came into the room and saw Mr. Dayne Gabrielle. No, I had not hot finger-tips. I Hke Mr. Dayne because his eyes are kind and his teeth are so nice, and he would have amused me for the afternoon. Sebastian. Go to Rockminster after him and amuse yourself. But before you go I must tell you Enter Martift. Martin. Mr. Godby, sir. Enter Godby. Sebastian. Godby ! Well, it is better so, for I might never have found courage to tell you. Gabrielle. To tell me what ? Sebastian. To tell you that Godby. Excuse me, ma'am, but you see I've been up after these letters afore now, and one can't keep running up from Southampton again and again after a packet of letters, to say nothing of Priscilla nagging at me. Gabrielle. I am afraid I don't understand. Godby. No more did Mr. Davenant. You see, it ain't possible for me to go back to Priscilla a second time without them letters, and they promised to let me 'ave them the last time I was 'ere. Gabrielle. What letters ? 58 ELIZABETH COOPER GODBY. Why, the letters 'e \\Tote to Priscilla . . . before she and I was spHced. You see, ma'am, it wasn't the fault of the young gentleman, it was Priscilla what commenced the correspondence over having read one of his books. I 'ave forgotten the name. Give me a moment. Gabrielle. " Ehzabeth Cooper " ? GoDBY. That was the book that fair turned 'er 'ead, and 'e sent her heaps of letters and pomes. And now that she 'as become Mrs. G. she has been worrying of me to get her letters back. She's afeard he might pubhsh them ; she says you never know what these hterary gents \\ill do \^ith letters, and this is the second time I 'ave come up from South- ampton after them. Gabrielle. Was there a poem beginning " After many days, and after man}' years ? " GoDBY. Well, ma'am, I can't say, though she 'as read them to me often enough. You see, I 'ave no head for poetry. " After many days and after many tears," yer say. There were plenty of tears in the pomes and sighs and 'earts and kisses. Gabrielle. Thank you, Mr. Godby, that's all I want to know. Now I'll leave ^'ou to settle your business \nth this gentleman. SJie goes towards the^door. Sebastian. Gabrielle, I can explain. Gabrielle. I prefer to listen to Mr. Dayne's explanations. Exit. Sebastian [lookmg at his watch). There is a train in a few minutes. She'll just catch it. I must run. ELIZABETH COOPER 59 GoDBY. Ah no, you don't, not till I gets Priscilla's letters. Sebastian. But they are in Rockminster, my good man. Let me go. GoDBY. Not if I knows it. We'll go back to Rockminster together. 5^ Sebastian. If you run we can catch the train. l'": GoDBY. Run ! I likes to 'ear you talk about running, and to a man who 'as walked all the way from Rockminster. This be the 'ottest day we've 'ad this summer. Run, indeed ! Sebastian. Let me go, let me go. GoDBY. Pull that bell and ask your parlour- maid to bring me up a glass of ale. Sebastian. There isn't time for drinking ale. GoDBY. Out of this I don't stir till I gets it. The train whistle is heard. Sebastian. There! We've missed the train. (He rings the hell. Enter Martin.) Martin, will you bring a tankard of ale and two glasses ? Martin goes out looking very astonished. Curtain ACT III Scene : Same as tn Act I. When the Curtain rises Davenant is on the stage in evening dress. Enter Sebastian and Godhy. GoDBY. 'Ere we are, the very room — 'member it jush as if it was yesseday. Beg pardon, sir, Godby, second mate on the Hannah Maria. Don't you remember Godby, sir ? Came for Priscilla's letters 'bout month ago. Davenant. Yes, Mr. Godby, I remember. Godby. Well, to make a long story short, sheck- tery breaks his word ; no letters. Priscilla getting more and more peevish every day ; no letters. 'Ave to come up again from Southampton. Shecktery 'broad, self at Claremont Villa. Way I go, all sails set, and over'aul shecktery with his young lady ; bit of a squall. Shecktery would 'ave weighed anchor and gone away after her, but I says, "No, shecktery, no shecktery, not this time ; we go back together after a bit of a rest and a tankard of ale, at your expense, Mr. Davennen. Fine ale : drunk yer 'ealth, Mr. Davennen. Terrible 'ot day ! Davenant. I can see, Mr. Godby, that you are suffering from the heat. Won't you sit down ? 60 ELIZABETH COOPER 6i GoDBY. I'd like to drop my anchor somewhere. He sits down on a light chair. Davenant rushes forward. Davenant. You'll be more comfortable in this chair, Mr. Godby. Puts Godby into an arm-chair. GoDBY. Thank 'ee. Very comfortable chair. But the letters in that 'ere casket. Sebastian. No, Mr. Godby, Priscilla's letters are downstairs. Godby. Downstairs. I'll wait 'ere. Shecktery . . . letters . . . shecktery good sort. D'ye 'ear, Mr. Davennen ? Shecktery good sort. He closes his eyes. Davenant and Sebastian walk aside. Davenant. Now, Sebastian, what is all this about ? Sebastian. Martin let this man into the house and we have been coming back ever since, from ale- house to ale-house. Davenant. A drunken man in this house and an Austrian countess in Clare mont Villa. These eccen- tricities are no doubt very amusing, Sebastian, but I shall have to explain to your father Sebastian. Explain what you like ; I don't care ; I'm done for. Davenant. Is it so bad as that ? You have told her, and Sebastian. Just as I was trying to summon up courage to tell her, this fellow came rolling into the room asking for the letters that I had promised to send him. At the word letters Gabrielle began to grow suspicious, and the garrulous fool that he is. 62 ELIZABETH COOPER thinking to make matters right, said I hadn't written to Priscilla since they were sphced. What did Gabrielle care whether it was before or after marriage ? All that concerned her was the fact that I had sent the poems that I had written to her to this fellow's wife. As soon as she knew that she just gave me a look. You wouldn't believe that so much hatred could come into that face. She picked up her parasol and ran away. Davenant. And you let her go without an explanation ? Sebastian. As I was about to follow her — ^is that fellow asleep ? Davenant. He seems as if he were. Sebastian. He gripped me by the arm and hung on to me, and a few minutes after I heard the train whistle. Davenant. And she went away still thinking that she is married to me ? You really must go and tell her. Sebastian. I don't know where she is. Enter Fletcher with a letter, which he hands to Davenant and goes out. Davenant {reading the letter). She is at the " Three Kings " and asks if she can see me at once-, for she is leaving Rockminster to-morrow morning. You must go and tell her. Sebastian. Now ? At once ? Davenant. Why not ? Sebastian. Lewis, it's a terrible thing to tell a woman you have married her under a false name. Davenant. But she loves you* ELIZABETH COOPER 63 Sebastian. Even so. Lewis, \\ill you be the greatest friend a man ever had ? Don't ask me to go and tell her — not here, not in Rockminster ; that is what I dread. She is coming to see 3'ou. Ask her to let me go away ^^ith her, and I promise you I \rill tell her everything as soon as we are ten miles from here. Davenant. Do you think you \rill ever be able to summon up courage ? Sebastian. I'll have to. Davenant. And will she forgive you ? Sebastian. WTiether she does or doesn't, she must be told. But \\ill you do what I ask you, Le\\is ? Give me one more chance, I beseech you. Davenant. I will write her a note. Will you ring the bell ? {He sits down and scribbles a note.) Now, what name am I to put to the end of the note ? You see what you are letting me in for. The note must be signed. My handwriting and your name. {He signs his name. Enter Fletcher.) Will you have this note sent round to the " Three Kings " at once ? Fletcher. Yes, sir. Exit. Sebastian. Thank you, Le\sis, thank you. And now nothing remains but to wake up our \'isitor. Davenant. But how are we to get rid of him ? He won't go without the letters. Sebastian. I know where they are. {He goes over to Godby) Now, I\Ir. Godby, shake your leg, lift your leg. Godby {waking up). Aye, aye. Captain, aye, aye. Blesh my soul . . . blesh my soul, where am I ? {Getting to his feet.) ]\Iisher Davennen. Shecktery. 64 ELIZABETH COOPER Long walk. 'Eat of the sun. Arlright. Come back for Priscilla's letters. {Holding out his hand.) Sheck- tery, Priscilla's letters. Sebastian. Priscilla's letters are downstairs, Mr. Godby. GoDBY. Very well ; get away close hauled. Cargo on board, Priscilla's letters. A glass of ale, Mr. Davennen, before starting. Glass of ale does no man any harm. Davenant. You'll give ]\Ir. Godby a glass of ale in the parlour, Sebastian. Godby. Thank 'ee, captain ; drink yer 'ealth. Fine ale in this country — besh ever drunk. One glass at ** Three Fiddlers," should 'ave been two ; two glasses at " Pig and WTaistle," should 'ave been three ; four glasses at the " Rose and Crown," should have been five. England's bulwarks is 'er ale : as long as England brews the ale that I 'ave drunk to-day England will never be anythin' else but Merrie England. {Begins to sing.) " Oh ! for Merrie England and the merrie days of yore." Sebastian. Come away and we'll drink Mr. Davenant 's health. Godby. Yesh. ]\Iisher Davennen 's 'ealth, Pris- cilla's 'ealth, shecktery's 'ealth, everybody's 'ealth. {Sebastian helps him out. Coming hack.) Wonch you join us, IMisher Davennen ? Davenant. Presently, Mr. Godby, presently. {Godby goes out.) I shall expect you back to dinner, Sebastian. {Returning into the room.) This joke of mine seems to be no joke at all ; I am getting very tired of it. Instead of asking her to stay to ELIZABETH COOPER 65 dinner, I find m^^self obliged to beg her to go away with Sebastian and without her dinner. He rings the hell and walks across the stage. Enter Fletcher ; he stands waiting for Davenant' s orders. Fletcher. Yes, sir. Davenant {waking w^).^bout the dinner. How many are you expecting ? Fletcher. You mentioned eleven, sir ; you weren't certain about Mr. Dayne. Davenant. Mr. Dayne is coming to dinner, and I suppose you want to know how to place the people. Here is a card. (He goes over to the writing-table and takes a card jrojn it and hands it to Fletcher.) The gardener sent the flowers all right ? Fletcher. Yes, sir. Davenant. I told him to send some carnations. And Mr. Ireton is coming. He does not drink champagne ; you had better have a bottle of the best claret warmed for him. Fletcher. Very good, sir. Davenant. I remember too that Sir Robert Basing likes Nepaul pepper. You had better put the little pepper-pot that we use in front of him. Fletcher. Yes, sir. You'll excuse me, sir, your necktie has been crumpled in the tpng. I will fetch you another. He goes out. Davenant looks in the glass. Davenant. Yes, I have tied it rather badly. That drunken fellow coming in at the moment. [Enter Fletcher with another tie. Davenant ties it before the glass.) I think that is better. e 66 ELIZABETH COOPER Fletcher. Yes, sir, that is quite all right. Is there anything else ? Davenant. No ; the rest of the service is as usual. A bell rings. Fletcher. I think that is the front -door bell. Teresa has let a lady in, sir. Are you at home to anybody ? Davenant. Yes, I am expecting a lady. Exit Fletcher ; he returns a moment afterwards followed by Gabrielle. Fletcher. The Countess Von Hoenstadt. Exit. Gabrielle. I hope you aren't very cross with me, Mr. Dayne, because I have come to see you before dinner, but you don't dine till eight and I felt that I must speak to you — have you all to myself ; for you see I have not seen you alone yet, Mr. Dayne. But don't look so serious, as if you thought me a bore. Davenant. My dear Countess, whatever else one might think, no one can think you a bore. Gabrielle. That is such a comfort. But if you don't think me a bore, why did you run aw^ay in that rude fashion from Claremont Villa ? The moment I left the room away you went with Lady Thurlow. Davenant. I had to come back to finish some work, burning the midnight oil. Gabrielle. I am sure you will die very soon if you go on \\Titing from morning till night. Why do you do it, dear Mr. Dayne ? Really, I must scold you a little. I do not want you to fall ill. You may write four or five hours every day, but no more, and you must go for long walks. If I were ELIZABETH COOPER 67 li\dng in this house I should send you out for two hours every day at least, and in this room I should like heaps and heaps of flowers and some cushions. How long have you been without cushions, dear Mr. Day ne ? Davenant. I'm afraid you don't like your house. Gabrielle. My house ? I had forgotten. Is the house really mine ? And everything in it ? All that lovely china. My house is a little like a museum. Well, let's imagine we are in a museum. Take me round, show me the pictures. Ah, here is a portrait of yourself. How very hke you ! I am glad your hair is grey and I am glad you have nice moustaches. It is so fortunate that they are not drooping like 00. That would be dreadful. You have what I call a horse-face. My face is like a cat's. When was the portrait done ? Davenant. Only two years ago by a rising young artist, John Everett Millais, the leader of the pre- Raphaelites. Gabrielle. I hope you will not expect me to talk clever things about pictures and statues ; I can't do that, and why should I ? I hke beautiful things, but \'nlgar ones I hate. I have always been like that. I remember when I was a little girl of six or seven the Bibhothique rose I was very fond of, but some of the pictures shocked me dread- fully. Madame Fichini falling a la renverse and exhibiting her dreadful mollets was too much for me. I took the book in a corner pour effacer the shocking things with an eraser. I am not trying to copy EHzabeth, but I have scruples sometimes, onlyabout ugly things. InVenice I saw lovely statues; 68 ELIZABETH COOPER there was especially one which I liked to look at — Leda with a swan. Do you like statues of Leda ? Davenant. There is one by Michael Angelo Gabrielle. Ah, he was a stern man and did not make her hold her swan gracefully in her arms like the Venetian. Davenant. Perhaps not. His statue is in Florence. Have you been to Florence, Countess ? Gabrielle. No. Have you, Mr. Dayne ? Davenant. Yes. Gabrielle. What a pity ! I suppose you bought some of those pictures in Italy. Davenant. I have never had money to buy pictures. These are Lewis's. Countess. But he doesn't care for pictures. When we were in the Louvre Davenant. You were always between him and the pictures. Some of this china is mine. Here are a few bits of Bow and Chelsea, our imitations of your Dresden, and here is a piece of jade. Gabrielle. How very pretty ! You know how badly he treated me ? She walks about with the piece of jade in her hand. Davenant watches her, fearful lest she should drop it. Davenant. I have heard what happened at Claremont Villa. Gabrielle. Has he been here ? Davenant. He came here with Mr. Godby. Let me relieve you. {He takes the piece of jade and puts it hack in its place and returns to her.) They arrived here very tired after a long walk, having stopped at ELIZABETH COOPER 69 all the ale-houses on the way, Lewis Godby's prisoner and Godby gleefully drunk. Gabrielle. Can you be drunk gleefiilly ? I sup- pose you can. You make me laugh in spite of myself, but I am in no laughing humour. It was horrid, disgusting ; it was cowardly, wicked ; it was every- thing that one can say in Enghsh, and if you knew German I would tell 3'ou heaps and heaps of words. Davenant. But, my dear Countess, as I under- stand the matter, the quarrel between you and Lewis is only about a poem. Countess. If he had pubhshed the poem I would not have said anything, but it was sending it to another woman, that is what has annoyed me, and has made it impossible for me ever to see him again. Davenant. That seems a httle unreasonable. Countess ; one woman inspires the poem, all women receive it. Gabrielle. In print, not in manuscript. Davenant. Before print there was manuscript. Laura inspired Petrarch's sonnets, but they were circulated in manuscript. We need only go back a httle. Lewis's methods are archaic ; that is the worst that can be said of them. Gabrielle. You are indulging, Mr. Dayne, in what we call on the Continent marivaudage, but I am serious. Davenant. You really mean you will never see Lewis again ? Gabrielle. Never ; on that I must insist. Davenant. Not even when you are an old woman ? 70 ELIZABETH COOPER Gabrielle. Everything will be different then, but not for years and years to come. Davenant. That seems rather sad, doesn't it, Gabrielle ? I beg your pardon, but the name is so beautiful and I have seen it so often at the end of your letters. Gabrielle. You can call me Gabrielle if you really like it so much. I shall not be offended. When I was born they saw at once that I wasn't a boy and they were disappointed, as a son was wanted. They called me Gabrielle because they think in Austria that when a girl is called Gabrielle the next child will be a boy. Davenant. It is very Idnd of you to grant me the privilege, and be sure that I shall not abuse it, only in private. Gabrielle. Why in private and not in public ? Davenant. Lewis would not like it. Gabrielle. Why do you talk to me about him ? If I didn't like you very much, Mr. Dayne, I should Davenant. My dear Countess, Gabrielle, he is your husband. Gabrielle. I am obliged to you for reminding me of a disagreeable circumstance. I thought to find in you a sympathetic friend, and wished to lalk to one who would soothe my nerves, and instead of that you have done just the opposite. You don't like me. Good-bye, Mr. Dayne. She goes up the stage towards the door. Davenant follows her and brings her hack. Davenant. No, no, you mustn't go hke that. ELIZABETH COOPER 71 I am sorr^' I have failed to understand you. Come back, and in five minutes we shall be friends again. Gabrielle. You will not talk to me about him ? Davenant. No, not a word since you don't \^ish it. Gabrielle. You'll talk to me about 3'ourself, and exclusively ? Davexant. Yes, exclusively. Gabrielle. Well, then, I \\i\l come back. But I don't think I can hsten to you as I should like to listen to you. You see, you have upset my nerves. Davexaxt. And you want a httle mattress and a soft warm little coverlet for each of 3'our nerves. Gabrielle. Now you are quoting from my letters. Davexaxt. Come, sit do^^^l beside me. Gabrielle. Have you ever been to Vienna, Mr. Dayne ? You have been to Germany, I know. Davexaxt. Not further south than Bavaria. Gabrielle. One of these days you ^^ill come to Vienna, and if you do you will knock at my door . . . and you will let me know beforehand, for it would be too dreadful for words if you came and Gabrielle had left. You never would get consoled, I hope ; nor would I. But 3'ou mustn't come in the winter ; it is always raining then, and Vienna is so dirty when it does, but in the spring it is lovely. Davexaxt. I will come in April. Is April too early ? Gabrielle. I would hke you to come in Feb- ruar}', because then my freckles are less visible and furs are becoming. Davexaxt. Yes, so they are, the furs and the freckles too. 72 ELIZABETH COOPER Gabrielle. But I freckle under my ears. See ? She shows him her neck. Davenant. The freckles render a beautiful neck still more desirable [she draws away) by their naturalness. You are going to remain in England for the summer ? Gabrielle. No, I am going abroad at once, to Paris first and then to the seaside — ^to Dieppe, Trouville, or some tiny little fishing village. Etretat I have heard of — a little village where you can bathe without anybody seeing you, which is what I like, for it gives me des crampes of every kind to think of anybody seeing me rising out of the sea in a — do you say sea-gown ? Davenant. No, we say bathing-gown. Gabrielle. And you say well, for a more unbe- coming garment never was invented, exaggerating all one's little roundnesses. Davenant. I used to bathe long ago in Etretat with the French painters. Gabrielle. Why not return ? Ah, no, I must not ask you, though you are a very sympathetic Mr. Dayne. Davenant. I might go abroad in the autumn, and in Italy we might meet, in Venice Gabrielle. It would be nice to meet you in Venice and to sit in a gondola looking at the moon and hstening to that noisy Italian music that would be dreadful elsewhere, but in Venice one Hkes it, and you could tell me your troubles holding my hand. Davenant [going to her). Countess, is this a promise r ELIZABETH COOPER 73 Gabrielle. Why shouldn't we meet in Venice ? Everybody meets in Venice. Davenant. But you said to hold your hand. Gabrielle. You can hold my hand now, Mr. Dayne. Davenant. Remember that I am but flesh and blood ; I might lose my head so completely in Venice Gabrielle. Are you afraid to finish your sentence ? Davenant. I might ask you to love me. Countess. Gabrielle. Does one ask ? Davenant. I suppose not. Gabrielle He takes her in his arms. Gabrielle. We aren't in Venice yet. {He holds her.) No, no, you mustn't kiss me. Davenant. If I may not kiss you, why do you ask me to meet you in Venice ? Gabrielle. I don't know. Davenant. Don't say you don't know. A woman always knows. Gabrielle. I swear, Mr. Dayne, that I don't know why Davenant. Why did you come here ? Gabrielle. I don't know, an impulse ; I am full of impulses. You must let me go. And now, Mr. Dayne, why did you want to kiss me ? Re- member, one always knows. Davenant. Quite true, but I'd hke to tell you first why you asked me to meet you abroad. Gabrielle. Did I ask you ? Davenant. Have you forgotten already ? And I am not surprised if you have. You are angry 74 ELIZABETH COOPER with Lewis and you came here with the intention of revenging yourself. Gabrielle. And lacked courage. You may be right. And now, since you are so clever, will you tell me why you wanted to kiss me ? Davenant. I wanted to prove to you that you love your husband, and I have proved it. Gabrielle. Because I refused to kiss you I love my husband ? I did not expect to find you so conceited. Davenant. You mean that you don't believe a man could be so disinterested. Well, I admit that your mirror Gabrielle. I am in no humour for marivaudage. Where is Lewis ? Enter Sebastian. Davenant. My news so far as it goes is good news. I have succeeded in persuading the Countess that she loves you, though of course you have behaved very badly. Sebastian. Gabrielle, you have forgiven me ! Gabrielle. Mr. Dayne says that one woman inspires the poem and all women receive it, so I suppose I must be satisfied. Sebastian. My whole life will be devoted to you from this hour ; I will explain to you in the train. One leaves in half an hour ; we shall just catch it. Gabrielle. Catch a train ! But we have been catching trains and missing them for the last three weeks. Sebastian. At Claremont Villa I asked you to leave this place. Gabrielle. You want me to go back to Claremont Villa ? ELIZABETH COOPER 75 Sebastian. Much farther than Claremont Villa, out of this country. Gabrielle. But, Lewis, you must have jumped out of your senses. \\^at is the matter wdth him, Mr. Dayne ? Now that I have forgiven him he wants to drag me away, out of my own house and before I have had dinner ; my guests eating while I am star\ing. Sebastian. We can get something to eat at the railway-station, and Sebastian can stay and enter- tain your guests. I assure you these people don't matter. Nothing matters in Rockminster. Come, Gabrielle, come. Gabrielle. But what would everybody think ? It would seem as if I were filing away from your relations, and I am most anxious to see the relations of the man I have married. Perhaps they \\-ill not hke me at all ; if so, it would be better for me to see them and then never come back to Rockminster. Sebastian. But you aren't dressed for dinner ; I want them to see you in that beautiful dinner- dress which suits you so well. Gabrielle. That dinner-dress would only scan- daUze your relations, who cannot be expected to hold the same views as you do, Lewis. I think this is a very suitable dress in which to appear before them. Sebastian. It is cruel of you to refuse. What new caprice is this ? (Pause.) You aren't in love with Sebastian, are you ? Gabrielle. I am in love with Sebastian. Sebastian. Gabrielle ! Gabrielle. I am in love with the Sebastian that came to Vienna, and I hke very much the Sebastian 76 ELIZABETH COOPER whom I met here and who brought us together, told us to kiss and make friends as skilfully as if he were writing a lover's quarrel in one of his books. [She hursts our laughing.) Dear Mr. Davenant, you, the great psychological novehst, you didn't think that I believed Sebastian WTote all these books ? Sebastian, how could you have fallen in love with a woman whom you believed to be such a fool ? Two such clever men, a poet and a novelist. Ach I it is very sad, the saddest thing that has ever happened to me in my life. Davenant. So you knew all the time that Sebas- tian had not WTitten " EHzabeth Cooper " ! But in the train you said, " You are Lewis Davenant." Gabrielle. He was looking at my miniature and for the moment Davenant. You were deceived. But what an enchanting deception ! You should thank me, Countess, for ha\ing spared you what you WTote for and sent you what you desired. Gabrielle. I would kiss you for Sebastian if I were not afraid of making him jealous. Am I again on the verge of naughtiness ? I am afraid I am, but you both deserve it. But you have not told me, Mr. Davenant, if you are sorry that you did not come to Vienna. Would you have been dis- appointed in me ? You can tell me better now, for before you had only seen me in the ivory. But you need not answer ; you don't know, and I puzzle you. Davenant. If I had gone to Vienna you would have missed the comedy which you seem to have played divinely well. ELIZABETH COOPER yy Gabrielle. Your comedy, IMr. Davenant. Davenant. iMine, but into which you introduced a marriage. Gabrielle. I have always said that I should invent marriage if it had not been invented long ago ; and the day that I invented Sebastian's was such a beautiful day and the church looked so lovely, the spire showing between the trees and the air smelhng of hlac. Has Sebastian told you of the old priest that we found asleep in a chair, and who would not marry us for a long while because we had no papers to show ? I cried and turned away saving, " What sins I may commit, father, I dedicate to you." And then he Davenant. I suppose there is nothing to do but to laugh, only it is rather difficult to laugh all of a sudden. Gabrielle. Sebastian isn't laughing. Sebastian, what is the matter with you ? Sebastian. I suppose you thought I was too stupid to write any of Lewis's books. Davenant. Now, Sebastian, we can't have any more quarrels to-night. Look upon yourself as the most fortunate man in the world. Fellows like you always get out of their scrapes. {J^he clock strikes eight.) Eight o'clock ! My guests will soon be here. Gabrielle. May Sebastian take me to your room and make my hair for me ? Come, darling. Exeunt Gabrielle and Sebastian. Enter Fletcher. Fletcher. Lord and Lady Thurlow. Enter Lord and Lady Thurlow. Lady Thurlow. The Professor and Henrietta 78 ELIZABETH COOPER are dreadfully alarmed about Sebastian and this woman who calls herself the Countess Von Hoen- stadt. Enter Fletcher. Fletcher. Professor and Mrs. Dayne ! Enter Professor and Mrs. Dayne. Mrs. Dayne. What has happened to my poor Sebastian ? Augusta has frightened us. Professor. We would like to know if he is married . . . legally, you understand. Davenant. They were married, I believe, on an island in the Danube by an old priest who was found asleep in a chair. Quite a Shakespearean marriage. Yonder is a hermit's cell. Hermits sleep lightly ; a knock will awaken him, And faithfully we twain shall be united Ere the eastern sun flames like a daffodil Amid the rooky woods. Professor Dayne. No other pen but his Lady Thurlow. Forgive me, Mr. Davenant, but I think it shows a lack of feeling on your part to joke about a matter that is so serious to us all. Just at the present moment when his book of poems is published ! People are saying all sorts of things — that you knew her very well, that she is an old friend of yours, and that you sent this poor boy to her. Davenant. A man cannot be sent to the woman he loves ; he goes to her in spite of himself. Lady Thurlow. People think very badly of your conduct. I know for a fact that Lady Kings- weight won't come here to-night. Davenant. Is she ill ? ELIZABETH COOPER 79 Lady Thurlow. No, she is shocked ; and of course Mr. Ireton, as our member, couldn't come. He has to consider his constituents. Davenant. Well, the last thing I heard was that his constituents were considering him. Lady Thurlow. He is a serious-minded man. And as for Sir Robert and Lady Basing, I don't mind telhng you that they are not coming. I have come because I hate to be a deserter and also I must see poor Sebastian. Whatever happens, I must stand by him. Oh, how could you have done this ? Enter Fletcher, followed by Lady Kingsweight and Miss Gasman. Fletcher. Lady Kingsweight and ]\Iiss Gasman ! Lady Thurlow. Well, she has come after all. I am surprised. But Mr. Ireton was speaking of the matter this evening, and he could not understand, he said, how a man of your experience Fletcher enters, followed by Mr. Ireton. Fletcher. Mr. Ireton ! Lady Thurlow. Well, he has come after all. Lady Kingsweight. A most remarkable story, Mr. Davenant, a most remarkable story. This comes of love at first sight. I beheve it was all through seeing a miniature. Do let me see the miniature of the lady who inspired this passion. Fletcher enters, followed by Sir Robert and Lady Basing. Fletcher. Sir Robert and Lady Basing ! Lady Basing {shaking hands with Davenant). Robert told me not to ask you, but I will. I must beg you to tell me this strange romance about 9 . •, • \» ? '/ . '»' » o • • '• • . » » • 8o ELIZABETH COOPER Mr. Dayne and the Countess Von Hoenstadt. Now, if the lady had met you, ^Ir. Davenant. Davenant. She might not have loved me at all. Ireton. The " Encyclopaedia Britannica " notes several cases where the unknown have addressed distinguished authors with results leading to mar- riage or . . . similar relationships. Enter Sebastian and Gabrielle. Sebastian. My mother, Gabrielle. Mrs. Dayxe. My dear child ! She opens her arms. Sebastian cojitinues the introductions. Professor (to Dave^iant). My daughter-in-law appears to be an exceedingl}' charming woman. Davenant. I am so glad you are pleased. And now I must tell you who you are to take down to dinner. He takes the Professor over to Lady Basing. Better Fletcher. Fletcher. Dinner is served, sir. Exit. Davenant. Mr. Ireton, \\\\\ you take Mrs. Dayne down ? and Sir Robert, will you take Lady ICings- weight ? and you, Thurlow, will you take Miss Casman ? Sebastian, you go down with Lady Thurlow. Davenant goes to Gabrielle, and the guests go out two by two. Sebastian and Lady Thurlow are the last to leave the stage. Lady Thurlow. He is laughing at us. It is a subject of a joke with him, of farce, of comedy, but for me it is the end of my hfe. 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