The Man from Home Part 7

[LADY CREECH lets her periodical rest in her lap, and without any abating or concealment, fixes PIKE with a basilisk glare which continues. He is unconscious of all this, his back being three-quarters to their group.]

VASILI [no pause]. You have studied mechanics at the University?

PIKE [smiling]. University? Law, no! On the old man's farm.

[VASILI nods gravely.]

HAWCASTLE [blandly, to HORACE]. Without any disrespect to you, my dear fellow, what terrific bounders most of your fellow-countrymen are!

HORACE [greatly irritated]. Do you wonder sis and I have emanc.i.p.ated ourselves?

HAWCASTLE. Not at all, my dear lad.

VASILI [to PIKE]. Can I persuade you to accept a little of one of my own national dishes--caviar?

PIKE. Caviar? I've heard of it. I thought it was Rooshian.

VASILI [disturbed, but instantly recovering, himself]. It is German, also. Will you not?

[He motions MARIANO to serve PIKE. MARIANO places a spoonful of caviar on a silver dish at PIKE'S right.]

PIKE. I expect I'd never get to the legislature again if the boys heard about it. Still, I reckon I'm far enough from home to take a _few_ risks.

[He loads a fork with caviar, and with a smile places it in his mouth.

The smile slowly fades, his face becomes thoughtful, then grave; he slowly sets the fork upon his plate, his eyes turn toward VASILI with a look both puzzled and plaintive, his mouth firmly closed, his jaw moving slightly.]

VASILI. I fear you do not like it. A few swallows of vodka will take away the taste.

[Gives him a gla.s.s, which PIKE accepts, drinking a mouthful in haste, VASILI watching him, sincerely concerned and troubled. PIKE swallows the vodka, quietly sets the gla.s.s down on the table, his eyelids begin to flutter, he bends a look of suffering and distrust upon VASILI, slowly rises and closes his eyes, then slowly sits and opens them. Gradually a faint, distrustful smile appears on his face.]

PIKE [in the voice of a convalescent]. I never had any business to leave Indiana!

VASILI. I am sorry, my friend.

[PIKE takes another large forkful of caviar.]

VASILI [observing this]. But I thought you did not like the caviar?

PIKE. It's to take away the taste of the vodka.

VASILI [laughing]. I lift my hat to you.

PIKE. You never worked on a farm in your own country, Doc?

VASILI. That has been denied me.

PIKE. I expect so. Talk about things to drink! Harvest-time, and the women folks coming out from the house with a two-gallon jug of ice-cold b.u.t.termilk!

[Sets down the gla.s.s and whistles softly with delight.]

[HORACE shows increasing signs of annoyance.]

VASILI. You still enjoy those delights?

PIKE. Not since I moved up to our county-seat ten years ago and began to practice law. Things don't taste the same in the city.

VASILI. You do not like your city?

PIKE [not with braggadocio, but earnestly, almost pathetically]. Like it? Well, sir, for public buildings and architecture, I wouldn't trade our State insane asylum for the worst-ruined ruin in Europe--not for hygiene and real comfort.

VASILI. And your people?

PIKE. The best on earth. Out _my_ way folks are neighbors.

[HORACE snaps his paper sharply.]

VASILI. But you have no leisure cla.s.s.

[VASILI is looking keenly at HAWCASTLE and HORACE as he speaks.]

PIKE. Got a pretty good-sized colored population.

VASILI. I mean no aristocracy--no great old families such as we have, that go back and back to the Middle Ages.

PIKE [genially]. Well, I expect if they go back that far they might just as well set down and stay there. No, sir, the poor in my country don't have to pay taxes for a lot of useless kings and earls and first grooms of the bedchamber and second ladies in waiting, and I don't know what all. If anybody wants _our_ money for nothin' he has to show energy enough to steal it. I wonder a man like you doesn't emigrate.

VASILI. Bravo!

HAWCASTLE [to HORACE]. Your countryman seems to be rather down on us!

HORACE. This fellow is distinctly of the lower orders. We should cut him as completely in the States as here.

VASILI. I wonder you make this long journey, my friend, instead of to spend your holiday at home.

PIKE. Holiday! Why, _I_ never had time even to go to Niagara Falls!

VASILI [to MARIANO]. Finito!

[Sets his napkin carelessly on table and lights a Russian cigarette.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. What is it he does with his serviette?

PIKE [moving his chair back from the table slightly, and folding his napkin]. No, _sir_, you wouldn't catch me puttin' in any time in these old kingdoms unless I had to.

LADY CREECH [loudly, to HAWCASTLE]. Hawcastle, can you tell me how much longer these persons intend to remain here listening to our conversation?

[PIKE half turns to LADY CREECH, innocently puzzled.]