JOHN [stoutly]. You needn"t be in such a hurry. There are three days to run yet. [The French are so different from us that we shall probably never be able to understand why the COMTESSE laughed aloud here.] It"s just a joke to the Comtesse.
COMTESSE. It seems to be no joke to you, Mr. Shand. Sybil, my pet, are you to let him off?
SYBIL [flashing]. Let him off? If he wishes it. Do you?
JOHN [manfully]. I want it to go on. [Something seems to have caught in his throat: perhaps it is the impediment trying a temporary home.] It"s the one wish of my heart. If you come with me, Sybil, I"ll do all in a man"s power to make you never regret it.
[Triumph of the Vere de Veres.]
MAGGIE [bringing them back to earth with a dump]. And I can make my arrangements for Wednesday?
SYBIL [seeking the COMTESSE"s protection]. No, you can"t. Auntie, I am not going on with this. I"m very sorry for you, John, but I see now--I couldn"t face it---
[She can"t face anything at this moment except the sofa pillows.]
COMTESSE [noticing JOHN"S big sigh of relief]. So THAT is all right, Mr.
Shand!
MAGGIE. Don"t you love her any more, John? Be practical.
SYBIL [to the pillows]. At any rate I have tired of him. Oh, best to tell the horrid truth. I am ashamed of myself. I have been crying my eyes out over it--I thought I was such a different kind of woman. But I am weary of him. I think him--oh, so dull.
JOHN [his face lighting up]. Are you sure that is how you have come to think of me?
SYBIL. I"m sorry; [with all her soul] but yes--yes--yes.
JOHN. By G.o.d, it"s more than I deserve.
COMTESSE. Congratulations to you both.
[SYBIL runs away; and in the fulness of time she married successfully in cloth of silver, which was afterwards turned into a bed-spread.]
MAGGIE. You haven"t read my letter yet, John, have you?
JOHN. No.
COMTESSE [imploringly]. May I know to what darling letter you refer?
MAGGIE. It"s a letter I wrote to him before he left London. I gave it to him closed, not to be opened until his time here was ended.
JOHN [as his hand strays to his pocket]. Am I to read it now?
MAGGIE. Not before her. Please go away, Comtesse.
COMTESSE. Every word you say makes me more determined to remain.
MAGGIE. It will hurt you, John. [Distressed] Don"t read it; tear it up.
JOHN. You make me very curious, Maggie. And yet I don"t see what can be in it.
COMTESSE. But you feel a little nervous? Give ME the dagger.
MAGGIE [quickly]. No. [But the COMTESSE has already got it.]
COMTESSE. May I? [She must have thought they said Yes, for she opens the letter. She shares its contents with them.] "Dearest John, It is at my request that the Comtesse is having Lady Sybil at the cottage at the same time as yourself."
JOHN. What?
COMTESSE. Yes, she begged me to invite you together.
JOHN. But why?
MAGGIE. I promised you not to behave as other wives would do.
JOHN. It"s not understandable.
COMTESSE. "You may ask why I do this, John, and my reason is, I think that after a few weeks of Lady Sybil, every day, and all day, you will become sick to death of her. I am also giving her the chance to help you and inspire you with your work, so that you may both learn what her help and her inspiration amount to. Of course, if your love is the great strong pa.s.sion you think it, then those weeks will make you love her more than ever and I can only say good-bye. But if, as I suspect, you don"t even now know what true love is, then by the next time we meet, dear John, you will have had enough of her.--Your affectionate wife, Maggie." Oh, why was not Sybil present at the reading of the will! And now, if you two will kindly excuse me, I think I must go and get that poor sufferer the eau de Cologne.
JOHN. It"s almost enough to make a man lose faith in himself.
COMTESSE. Oh, don"t say that, Mr. Shand.
MAGGIE [defending him]. You mustn"t hurt him. If you haven"t loved deep and true, that"s just because you have never met a woman yet, John, capable of inspiring it.
COMTESSE [putting her hand on MAGGIE"s shoulder]. Have you not, Mr.
Shand?
JOHN. I see what you mean. But Maggie wouldn"t think better of me for any false pretences. She knows my feelings for her now are neither more nor less than what they have always been.
MAGGIE [who sees that he is looking at her as solemnly as a volume of sermons printed by request]. I think no one could be fond of me that can"t laugh a little at me.
JOHN. How could that help?
COMTESSE [exasperated]. Mr. Shand, I give you up.
MAGGIE. I admire his honesty.
COMTESSE. Oh, I give you up also. Arcades ambo. Scotchies both.
JOHN [when she has gone]. But this letter, it"s not like you. By Gosh, Maggie, you"re no fool.
[She beams at this, as any wife would.]
But how could I have made such a mistake? It"s not like a strong man.
[Evidently he has an inspiration.]
MAGGIE. What is it?