Mortal Coils

a barrier, which a descendant of Crusaders and preux chevaliers could not overleap. Honour, Miss Toomis, honour forbade. Ah, if only that accursed money had not stood in the way.... When I first saw you oh, how I was moved by that vision of beauty and innocence--I wanted nothing better than to stand gazing on you for ever. But then I heard about those millions. Dolphin was lucky to have felt no restraints. But enough, enough. (_He checks a rising tide of emotion_.) Give poor Dolphin another chance, Miss Toomis. At bottom he is a good fellow, and he may learn in time to esteem you for your own sake and to forget the dazzling millions. AMY. Never. I can only marry a man who is entirely disinterested. PAUL. But, can't you see, no disinterested man could ever bring himself to ask you? How could he prove his disinterestedness? No one would believe the purity of his intentions. AMY (_much moved_). It is for me to judge. I know a disinterested man when I see him. Even in America we can understand honour. PAUL (_with a sob in his voice_). Good-bye Miss Toomis. AMY. But no, I don't want it to be good-bye. PAUL. It must be. Never shall it be said of a Barbazange that he hunted a woman for her money. AMY. But what does it matter what the world says, if I say the opposite? PAUL. You say the opposite? Thank you, thank you. But no, good-bye. AMY. Stop. Oh! you're forcing me to do a most unwomanly thing. You're making me ask you to marry me. You're the only disinterested man I've ever met or, to judge from what I've seen of the world, I'm ever likely to meet. Haven't you kept away from me in spite of your feelings? Haven't you even tried to make me listen to another man--a man not worthy to black your boots? Oh, it's so wonderful, so noble! It's like something in a picture play. Paul, I offer myself to you. Will you take me in spite of my millions? PAUL (_falling on his knees and kissing the hem of_ AMY'S _skirt_). My angel, you're right; what does it matter what the world says as long as you believe in me? Amy, amie, bien-aimée.... Ah, it's too good too, too good to be true! (_He rises to his feet and embraces her with an unfeigned enthusiasm_.) AMY. Paul, Paul.... And so this is love. Isn't it wonderful? PAUL (_looking round anxiously_). You mustn't tell anyone about our engagement, my Amy. They might say unpleasant things in the hotel, you know. AMY. Of course I won't talk about it. We'll keep our happiness to ourselves, won't we? PAUL. Entirely to ourselves; and to-morrow we'll go to Paris and arrange about being married. AMY. Yes, yes; we'll take the eight o'clock train. PAUL. Not the eight o clock, my darling. I have to go to the bank to-morrow to do a little business. We must wait till the twelve thirty. AMY. Very well, then. The twelve-thirty. Oh, how happy I am! PAUL. So am I, my sweetheart. More than I can tell you. (_The sound of a window being opened is heard. They look up and see the_ BARONESS _dressed in a peignoir of the tenderest blue, emerging on to the right hand of the three balconies_.) AMY. Oh, my soul! I think I'd better go in. Good-night, my Paul. (_She runs in_.) SIMONE. Has that horrid little American girl gone? (_She peers down, then, reassured, she blows a kiss to_ PAUL.) My Romeo! PAUL. I come, Juliet. SIMONE. There's a kiss for you. PAUL (_throwing kisses with both hands_). And there's one for you. And another, and another. Two hundred million kisses, my angel. SIMONE (_giggling_). What a lot! PAUL. It is; you re quite right. Two hundred million.... I come, my Juliet. (_He darts into the hotel, pausing when just inside the door and out of sight of the_ BARONESS, _to mop himself once again with his enormous handkerchief. The operation over, he advances with a resolute step, The_ BARONESS _stands for a moment on the balcony. Then, seeing_ DOLPHIN _and_ LUCREZIA _coming in from the left, she retires, closing the window and drawing the curtains behind her_. DOLPHIN _comes striding in_; LUCREZIA _follows a little behind, looking anxiously up at him_.) LUCREZIA. Please, please.... DOLPHIN. NO, I won t listen to anything more. (_He walks with an agitated step up and down the stage_. LUCREZIA _stands with one hand resting on the back of a chair and the other pressed on her heart.)_ Do you mean to say you deliberately went and told her that I was only after her money? Oh, it's too bad, too bad. It's infamous. And I hadn't the faintest notion that she had any money. Besides, I don't want money; I have quite enough of my own. It's infamous, infamous! LUCREZIA. I know it was a horrible thing to do. But I couldn't help it. How could I stand by and see you being carried off by that silly little creature? DOLPHIN. But I cared for her. LUCREZIA. But not as I cared for you. I've got red blood in my veins; she's got nothing but milk and water. You couldn't have been happy with her. I can give you love of a kind she could never dream of. What does she know of passion? DOLPHIN. Nothing, I am thankful to say. I don't want passion; can't you understand that? I don't possess it myself and don't like it in others. I am a man of sentimental affections, with a touch of quiet sensuality. I don't want passion, I tell you. It's too violent; it frightens me. I couldn't possibly live with you. You'd utterly shatter my peace of mind in a day. Oh, how I wish you'd go away. LUCREZIA. But Sidney, Sidney, can't you understand what it is to be madly in love with somebody? You can't be so cruel. DOLPHIN. You didn't think much of my well-being when you interfered between Miss Toomis and me, did you? You've probably ruined my whole life, that's all. I really don't see why you should expect me to have any pity for you. LUCREZIA. Very well, then, I shall kill myself. (_She bursts into tears_.) DOLPHIN. Oh, but I assure you, one doesn't kill oneself for things like that. (_He approaches her and pats her on the shoulder_.) Come, come, don't worry about it. LUCREZIA (_throws her arms round his neck_). Oh, Sidney, Sidney.... DOLPHIN (_freeing himself with surprising energy and promptitude from her embrace_). No, no, none of that, I beg. Another moment and we shall be losing our heads. Personally I think I shall go to bed now. I should advise you to do the same, Miss Grattarol. You're overwrought. We might all be better for a small dose of bromide. (_He goes in_.) LUCREZIA (_looking up and stretching forth her hands_). Sidney.... (DOLPHIN _does not look round, and disappears through the glass door into the hotel_, LUCREZIA _covers her face with her hands and sits for a little sobbing silently. The nightingale sings on. Midnight sounds with an infinite melancholy from all the twenty campaniles of the city in the valley. From far away comes the spasmodic throbbing of a guitar and the singing of an Italian voice, high-pitched, passionate, throaty. The seconds pass_, LUCREZIA _rises to her feet and walks slowly into the hotel. On the threshold she encounters the_ VICOMTE _coming out_.) PAUL. You, Signorina Lucrezia? I've escaped for a breath of fresh, cool air. Mightn't we take a turn together? (LUCREZIA _shakes her head_.) Ah, well, then, good-night. You'll be glad to hear that Miss Toomis knows all about Correggio now. (_He inhales a deep breath of air. Then looking at his dinner-jacket he begins brushing at it with his hand. A lamentable figure creeps in from the left. It is_ ALBERTO. _If he had a tail, it would be trailing on the ground between his legs_.) PAUL. Hullo, Alberto. What is it? Been losing at cards? ALBERTO. Worse than that. PAUL. Creditors foreclosing? ALBERTO. Much worse. PAUL. Father ruined by imprudent speculations? ALBERTO. No, no, no. It's nothing to do with money. PAUL. Oh, well, then. It can't be anything very serious. It's women, I suppose. ALBERTO. My mistress refuses to see me. I have been beating on her door for hours in vain. PAUL. I wish we all had your luck, Bertino. Mine opens her door only too promptly. The difficulty is to get out again. Does yours use such an awful lot of this evil-smelling powder? I'm simply covered with it. Ugh! (_He brushes his coat again_.) ALBERTO. Can't you be serious, Paul? PAUL. Of course I can ... about a serious matter. But you can't expect me to pull a long face about your mistress, can you, now? Do look at things in their right proportions. ALBERTO. It's no use talking to you. You're heartless, soulless. PAUL. What you mean, my dear Alberto, is that I'm relatively speaking bodiless. Physical passion never goes to my head. I'm always _compos mentis_. You aren't, that's all. ALBERTO. Oh, you disgust me. I think I shall hang myself to-night. PAUL. Do. It will give us something to talk about at lunch to-morrow. ALBERTO. Monster! (_He goes into the hotel_, PAUL _strolls out towards the garden, whistling an air from Mozart as he goes. The window on the left opens and_ LUCREZIA _steps on to her balcony. Uncoiled, her red hair falls almost to her waist. Her nightdress is always half slipping off one shoulder or the other, like those loose-bodied Restoration gowns that reveal the tight-blown charms of Kneller's Beauties. Her feet are bare. She is a marvellously romantic figure, as she stands there, leaning on the balustrade, and with eyes more sombre than night, gazing into the darkness. The nightingales, the bells, the guitar, and passionate voice strike up. Great stars palpitate in the sky. The moon has swum imperceptibly to the height of heaven. In the garden below flowers are yielding their souls into the air, censers invisible. It is too much, too much.... Large tears roll down_ LUCREZIA's _cheeks and fall with a splash to the ground. Suddenly, but with the noiselessness of a cat,_ ALBERTO _appears, childish-looking in pink pajamas, on the middle of the three balconies. He sees_ LUCREZIA, _but she is much too deeply absorbed in thought to have noticed his coming_, ALBERTO _plants his elbows on the rail of the balcony, covers his face, and begins to sob, at first inaudibly, then in a gradual quickening crescendo. At the seventh sob_ LUCREZIA _starts and becomes aware of his presence_.) LUCREZIA. Alberto. I didn't know.... Have you been there long? (ALBERTO _makes no articulate reply, but his sobs keep on growing louder_.) Alberto, are you unhappy? Answer me. ALBERTO (_with difficulty, after a pause_). Yes. LUCREZIA. Didn't she let you in? ALBERTO. No. (_His sobs become convulsive_.) LUCREZIA. Poor boy. ALBERTO (_lifting up a blubbered face to the moonlight_). I am so unhappy. LUCREZIA. You can't be more unhappy than I am. ALBERTO. Oh yes, I am. It's impossible to be unhappier than me. LUCREZIA. But I _am_ more unhappy. ALBERTO. You re not. Oh, how can you be so cruel Lucrezia? (_He covers his face once more_.) LUCREZIA. But I only said I was unhappy Alberto. ALBERTO. Yes, I know. That showed you weren't thinking of me. Nobody loves me. I shall hang myself to-night with the cord of my dressing-gown. LUCREZIA. NO, no, Alberto. You mustn't do anything rash. ALBERTO. I shall. Your cruelty has been the last straw. LUCREZIA. I'm sorry, Bertino mio. But if you only knew how miserable I was feeling. I didn't mean to be unsympathetic. Poor boy. I'm so sorry. There, don't cry, poor darling. ALBERTO. Oh, I knew you wouldn't desert me,