The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith Part 16

LUCAS. Oh, my dear girl--!

AGNES. [Throwing her cigarette under the stove.] I'm quite myself again, Lucas dear. Watch me--look! [Walking firmly.]

LUCAS. No trembling?

AGNES. Not a flutter. [Watching her open hand.] My hand is absolutely steady. [He takes her hand and kisses it upon the palm.] Ah!--

LUCAS. [Looking at her hand.] No, it is shaking.

AGNES. Yes, when you--when you--oh, Lucas!--[She sinks into a chair, turning her back upon him, and covering her face with her hands; her shoulders heaving.]

LUCAS. [Going to her.] Agnes dear!

AGNES. [Taking out her handkerchief.] Let me--let me--

LUCAS. [Bending over her.] I've never seen you--

AGNES. No, I've never been a crying woman. But some great change has befallen me, I believe. What is it? That swoon--it wasn't mere faintness, giddiness; it was this change coming over me!

LUCAS. You are not unhappy?

AGNES. [Wiping her eyes.] No, I--I don't think I am. Isn't that strange?

LUCAS. My dearest, I'm happy to hear you say that, for you've made me very happy.

AGNES. Because I--

LUCAS. Because you love me--naturally, that's one great reason.

AGNES. I have always loved you.

LUCAS. But never so utterly, so absorbingly, as you confess you do now.

Do you fully realise what your confession does? It strikes off the shackles from me, from us--sets us free. [With a gesture of freedom.]

Oh, my dear Agnes, free!

AGNES. [Staring at him.] Free?

LUCAS. Free from the burden of that crazy plan of ours of trumpeting our relations to the world. Forgive me--crazy is the only word for it.

Thank heaven, we've at last admitted to each other that we're ordinary man and woman! Of course, I was ill--off my head. I didn't know what I was entering upon. And you, dear--living a pleasureless life, letting your thoughts dwell constantly on old troubles; that is how cranks are made. Now that I'm strong again, body and mind, I can protect you, keep you right. Ha, ha! What were we to pose as? Examples of independent thought and action! [Laughing.] Oh my darling, well be independent in thought and action still; but we won't make examples of ourselves--eh?

AGNES. [Who has been watching him with wide-open eyes.] Do you mean that all idea of our writing together, working together, defending our position, and the position of such as ourselves, before the world, is to be abandoned?

LUCAS. Why, of course.

AGNES. I--I didn't mean quite that.

LUCAS. Oh, come, come! We'll furl what my uncle calls the banner of Free Union finally. [Going to her and kissing her hair lightly.] For the future, mere man and woman. [Pacing the room excitedly.] The future! I've settled everything already. The work shall fall wholly on my shoulders. My poor girl, you shall enjoy a little rest and pleasure.

AGNES. [In a low voice.] Rest and pleasure--

LUCAS. We'll remain abroad. One can live un.o.bserved abroad, without actually hiding. [She rises slowly.] We'll find an ideal retreat. No more English tourists prying around us! And there, in some beautiful spot, alone except for your company, I'll work! [As he paces the room, she walks slowly to and fro, listening, staring before her.] I'll work.

My new career! I'll write under a nom de plume. My books, Agnes, shall never ride to popularity on the back of a scandal. Our life! The mornings I must spend by myself, of course, shut up in my room. In the afternoon we will walk together. After dinner you shall hear what I've written in the morning; and then a few turns round our pretty garden, a glance at the stars with my arms round your waist--[she stops abruptly, a look of horror on her face]--while you whisper to me words of tenderness, words of--[There is the distant sound of music from mandolin and guitar.] Ah! [To AGNES.] Keep your shawl over your shoulders. [Opening the window, and stepping out; the music becoming louder.] Some mandolinisti in a gondola. [Listening at the window, his head turned from her.] How pretty, Agnes! Now, don't those mere sounds, in such surroundings, give you a sensation of hatred for revolt and turmoil! Don't they conjure up alluringly pictures of peace and pleasure, of golden days and star-lit nights--pictures of beauty and love?

AGNES. [Sitting on the settee, staring before her, speaking to herself.] My marriage--the early days of my marriage--all over again!

LUCAS. [Turning to her.] Eh? [Closing the window and coming to her, as the music dies away.] Tell me that those sounds thrill you.

AGNES. Lucas--

LUCAS. [Sitting beside her.] Yes?

AGNES. For the first few months of my marriage--[Breaking off abruptly and looking into his face wonderingly.] Why, how young you seem to have become; you look quite boyish!

LUCAS. [Laughing.] I believe that this return of our senses will make us both young again.

AGNES. Both? [With a little shudder.] You know, I'm older than you.

LUCAS. Tsch!

AGNES. [Pa.s.sing her hand through his hair.] Yes, I shall feel that now.

[Stroking his brow tenderly.] Well--so it has come to this.

LUCAS. I declare that you have colour in your cheeks already.

AGNES. The return of my senses?

LUCAS. My dear Agnes, we've both been to the verge of madness, you and I--driven there by our troubles. [Taking her hand.] Let us agree, in so many words, that we have completely recovered. Shall we?

AGNES. Perhaps mine is a more obstinate case. My enemies called me mad years ago.

LUCAS. [With a wave of the hand.] Ah, but the future, the future. No more thoughts of reforming unequal laws from public platforms, no more shrieking in obscure magazines. No more beating of bare knuckles against stone walls. Come, say it!

AGNES. [With an effort.] Go on.

LUCAS. [Looking before him--partly to himself, his voice hardening.]

I'll never be mad again--never. [Thrusting his head back.] By heavens!

[To her, in an altered tone.] You don't say it.

AGNES. [After a pause.] I--I will never be mad again.

LUCAS. [Triumphantly.] Hah! ha, ha! [She deliberately removes the shawl from her shoulders, and, putting her arms round his neck, draws him to her.] Ah, my dear girl!

AGNES. [In a whisper, with her head on his breast.] Lucas.

LUCAS. Yes?

AGNES. Isn't this madness?

LUCAS. I don't think so.