Soldiers Three Volume I Part 30

MRS. G. Yes. But it was a pincushion heaven, with hymn-books in all the pews.

CAPT. G. (_Wagging his head with intense conviction._) Never mind. There is a _pukka_ heaven.

MRS. G. Where do you bring that message from, my prophet?

CAPT. G. Here! Because we care for each other. So it's all right.

MRS. G. (_As a troop of langurs crash through the branches._) So it's all right. But Darwin says that we came from _those!_

CAPT. G. (_Placidly._) Ah! Darwin was never in love with an angel. That settles it. Sstt, you brutes! Monkeys, indeed! You shouldn't read those books.

MRS. G. (_Folding her hands._) If it pleases my Lord the King to issue proclamation.

CAPT. G. Don't, dear one. There are no orders between us. Only I'd _rather_ you didn't. They lead to nothing, and bother people's heads.

MRS. G. Like your first engagement.

CAPT.G. (_With an immense calm._) That was a necessary evil and led to you. Are _you_ nothing?

MRS. G. Not so very much, am I?

CAPT. G. All this world and the next to me.

MRS. G. (_Very softly._) My boy of boys! Shall I tell _you_ something?

CAPT. G. Yes, if it's not dreadful--about other men.

MRS. G. It's about my own bad little self.

CAPT. G. Then it must be good. Go on, dear.

MRS. G. (_Slowly._) I don't know why I'm telling you, Pip; but if ever you marry again--(_Interlude._) Take your hand from my mouth or I'll _bite!_ In the future, then remember--I don't know quite how to put it!

CAPT. G. (_Snorting indignantly._) Don't try. 'Marry again,' indeed!

MRS. G. I must. Listen, my husband. Never, never, _never_ tell your wife anything that you do not wish her to remember and think over all her life. Because a woman--yes, I _am_ a woman--_can't_ forget.

CAPT. G. By Jove, how do _you_ know that?

MRS. G. (_Confusedly._) I don't. I'm only guessing. I am--I was--a silly little girl; but I feel that I know so much, oh, so very much more than you, dearest. To begin with, I'm your wife.

CAPT. G. So I have been led to believe.

MRS. G. And I shall want to know every one of your secrets--to share everything you know with you. (_Stares round desperately._)

CAPT. G. So you shall, dear, so you shall--but don't look like that.

MRS. G. For your own sake don't stop me, Phil. I shall never talk to you in this way again. You must _not_ tell me! At least, not now. Later on, when I'm an old matron it won't matter, but if you love me, be very good to me now; for this part of my life I shall _never_ forget! Have I made you understand?

CAPT. G. I think so, child. Have I said anything yet that you disapprove of?

MRS. G. Will you be _very_ angry? That--that voice, and what you said about the engagement--

CAPT. G. But you _asked_ to be told that, darling.

MRS. G. And _that's_ why you shouldn't have told me! You must be the judge, and, oh, Pip, dearly as I love you, I shan't be able to help you!

I shall hinder you, and you must judge in spite of me!

CAPT. G. (_Meditatively._) We have a great many things to find out together, G.o.d help us both--say so, p.u.s.s.y--but we shall understand each other better every day; and I think I'm beginning to see now. How in the world did you come to know just the importance of giving me just that lead?

MRS. G. I've told you that I _don't_ know. Only somehow it seemed that, in all this new life, I was being guided for your sake as well as my own.

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) Then Mafflin was right! They know, and we--we're blind--all of us. (_Lightly._) 'Getting a little beyond our depth, dear, aren't we? I'll remember, and, if I fail, let me be punished as I deserve.

MRS. G. There shall be no punishment. We'll start into life together from here--you and I--and no one else.

CAPT. G. And no one else. (_A pause._) Your eyelashes are all wet, Sweet? Was there ever such a quaint little Absurdity?

MRS. G. Was there ever such nonsense talked before?

CAPT. G. (_Knocking the ashes out of his pipe._) 'Tisn't what we say, it's what we don't say, that helps. And it's all the profoundest philosophy. But no one would understand--even if it were put into a book.

MRS. G. The idea! No--only we ourselves, or people like ourselves--if there are any people like us.

CAPT. G. (_Magisterially._) All people, not like ourselves, are blind idiots.

MRS. G. (_Wiping her eyes._) Do you think, then, that there are any people as happy as we are?

CAPT. G. 'Must be--unless we've appropriated all the happiness in the world.

MRS. G. (_Looking towards Simla._) Poor dears! Just fancy if we have!

CAPT. G. Then we'll hang on to the whole show, for it's a great deal too jolly to lose--eh, wife o' mine?

MRS. G. O Pip! Pip! How much of you is a solemn, married man and how much a horrid, slangy schoolboy?

CAPT. G. When you tell me how much of you was eighteen last birthday and how much is as old as the Sphinx and twice as mysterious, perhaps I'll attend to you. Lend me that banjo. The spirit moveth me to yowl at the sunset.

MRS. G. Mind! It's not tuned. Ah! How that jars.

CAPT. G. (_Turning pegs._) It's amazingly difficult to keep a banjo to proper pitch.

MRS. G. It's the same with all musical instruments. What shall it be?

CAPT. G. 'Vanity,' and let the hills hear. (_Sings through the first and half of the second verse. Turning to_ MRS. G.) Now, chorus! Sing, p.u.s.s.y!

BOTH TOGETHER. (_Con brio, to the horror of the monkeys who are settling for the night._)--

'Vanity, all is Vanity,' said Wisdom, scorning me-- I clasped my true Love's tender hand and answered frank and free--ee:--