LIZA [to Pickering, taking no apparent notice of Higgins, and working away deftly] Will you drop me altogether now that the experiment is over, Colonel Pickering?
PICKERING. Oh don"t. You mustn"t think of it as an experiment. It shocks me, somehow.
LIZA. Oh, I"m only a squashed cabbage leaf.
PICKERING [impulsively] No.
LIZA [continuing quietly]-but I owe so much to you that I should be very unhappy if you forgot me.
PICKERING. It"s very kind of you to say so, Miss Doolittle.
LIZA. It"s not because you paid for my dresses. I know you are generous to everybody with money. But it was from you that I learnt really nice manners; and that is what makes one a lady, isn"t it? You see it was so very difficult for me with the example of Professor Higgins always before me. I was brought up to be just like him, unable to control myself, and using bad language on the slightest provocation. And I should never have known that ladies and gentlemen didn"t behave like that if you hadn"t been there.
HIGGINS. Well!!
PICKERING. Oh, that"s only his way, you know. He doesn"t mean it.
LIZA. Oh, I didn"t mean it either, when I was a flower girl. It was only my way. But you see I did it; and that"s what makes the difference after all.
PICKERING. No doubt. Still, he taught you to speak; and I couldn"t have done that, you know.
LIZA [trivially] Of course: that is his profession.
HIGGINS. d.a.m.nation!
LIZA [continuing] It was just like learning to dance in the fashionable way: there was nothing more than that in it. But do you know what began my real education?
PICKERING. What?
LIZA [stopping her work for a moment] Your calling me Miss Doolittle that day when I first came to Wimpole Street. That was the beginning of self-respect for me. [She resumes her st.i.tching]. And there were a hundred little things you never noticed, because they came naturally to you. Things about standing up and taking off your hat and opening doors-
PICKERING. Oh, that was nothing.
LIZA. Yes: things that showed you thought and felt about me as if I were something better than a scullerymaid; though of course I know you would have been just the same to a scullery-maid if she had been let in the drawing-room. You never took off your boots in the dining room when I was there.
PICKERING. You mustn"t mind that. Higgins takes off his boots all over the place.
LIZA. I know. I am not blaming him. It is his way, isn"t it? But it made such a difference to me that you didn"t do it. You see, really and truly, apart from the things anyone can pick up (the dressing and the proper way of speaking, and so on), the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she"s treated. I shall always be a flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me as a flower girl, and always will; but I know I can be a lady to you, because you always treat me as a lady, and always will.
MRS. HIGGINS. Please don"t grind your teeth, Henry.
PICKERING. Well, this is really very nice of you, Miss Doolittle.
LIZA. I should like you to call me Eliza, now, if you would.
PICKERING. Thank you. Eliza, of course.
LIZA. And I should like Professor Higgins to call me Miss Doolittle.
HIGGINS. I"ll see you d.a.m.ned first.
MRS. HIGGINS. Henry! Henry!
PICKERING [laughing] Why don"t you slang back at him? Don"t stand it. It would do him a lot of good.
LIZA. I can"t. I could have done it once; but now I can"t go back to it. Last night, when I was wandering about, a girl spoke to me; and I tried to get back into the old way with her; but it was no use. You told me, you know, that when a child is brought to a foreign country, it picks up the language in a few weeks, and forgets its own. Well, I am a child in your country. I have forgotten my own language, and can speak nothing but yours. That"s the real break-off with the corner of Tottenham Court Road. Leaving Wimpole Street finishes it.
PICKERING [much alarmed] Oh! but you"re coming back to Wimpole Street, aren"t you? You"ll forgive Higgins?
HIGGINS [rising] Forgive! Will she, by George! Let her go. Let her find out how she can get on without us. She will relapse into the gutter in three weeks without me at her elbow.
Doolittle appears at the centre window. With a look of dignified reproach at Higgins, he comes slowly and silently to his daughter, who, with her back to the window, is unconscious of his approach.
PICKERING. He"s incorrigible, Eliza. You won"t relapse, will you?
LIZA. No: Not now. Never again. I have learnt my lesson. I don"t believe I could utter one of the old sounds if I tried. [Doolittle touches her on her left shoulder. She drops her work, losing her self-possession utterly at the spectacle of her father"s splendor] A-a-a-a-a-ah-ow-ooh!
HIGGINS [with a crow of triumph] Aha! Just so. A-a-a-a-ahowooh! A-a-a-a-ahowooh ! A-a-a-a-ahowooh! Victory! Victory! [He throws himself on the divan, folding his arms, and spraddling arrogantly].
DOOLITTLE. Can you blame the girl? Don"t look at me like that, Eliza. It ain"t my fault. I"ve come into money.
LIZA. You must have touched a millionaire this time, dad.
DOOLITTLE. I have. But I"m dressed something special today. I"m going to St. George"s, Hanover Square. Your stepmother is going to marry me.
LIZA [angrily] You"re going to let yourself down to marry that low common woman!
PICKERING [quietly] He ought to, Eliza. [To Doolittle] Why has she changed her mind?
DOOLITTLE [sadly] Intimidated, Governor. Intimidated. Middle cla.s.s morality claims its victim. Won"t you put on your hat, Liza, and come and see me turned off?
LIZA. If the Colonel says I must, I-I"ll [almost sobbing] I"ll demean myself. And get insulted for my pains, like enough.
DOOLITTLE. Don"t be afraid: she never comes to words with anyone now, poor woman! respectability has broke all the spirit out of her.
PICKERING [squeezing Eliza"s elbow gently] Be kind to them, Eliza. Make the best of it.
LIZA [forcing a little smile for him through her vexation] Oh well, just to show there"s no ill feeling. I"ll be back in a moment. [She goes out].
DOOLITTLE [sitting down beside Pickering] I feel uncommon nervous about the ceremony, Colonel. I wish you"d come and see me through it.
PICKERING. But you"ve been through it before, man. You were married to Eliza"s mother.
DOOLITTLE. Who told you that, Colonel?
PICKERING. Well, n.o.body told me. But I concluded naturally-
DOOLITTLE. No: that ain"t the natural way, Colonel: it"s only the middle cla.s.s way. My way was always the undeserving way. But don"t say nothing to Eliza. She don"t know: I always had a delicacy about telling her.