[JOHN does not tell her.]
VENABLES. This is how he puts it now. [JOHN cannot help raising his head to listen.] "Gentlemen, the Opposition are calling to you to vote for them and the flowing tide, but I ask you cheerfully to vote for us and DAM the flowing tide."
[VENABLES and his old friend the COMTESSE laugh heartily, but for different reasons.]
COMTESSE. It IS better, Mr. Shand.
MAGGIE. _I_ don"t think so.
VENABLES. Yes, yes, it"s so virile. Excuse me, Comtesse, I"m off to read the whole thing again. [For the first time he notices that JOHN is strangely quiet.] I think this has rather bowled you over, Shand.
[JOHN"s head sinks lower.]
Well, well, good news doesn"t kill.
MAGGIE [counsel for the defence]. Surely the important thing about the speech is its strength and knowledge and eloquence, the things that were in the first speech as well as in the second.
VENABLES. That of course is largely true. The wit would not be enough without them, just as they were not enough without the wit. It is the combination that is irresistible. [JOHN"s head rises a little.] Shand, you are our man, remember that, it is emphatically the best thing you have ever done. How this will go down at Leeds!
[He returns gaily to his hammock; but lower sinks JOHN"S head, and even the COMTESSE has the grace to take herself off. MAGGIE"s arms flutter near her husband, not daring to alight.]
MAGGIE. You heard what he said, John. It"s the combination. Is it so terrible to you to find that my love for you had made me able to help you in the little things?
JOHN. The little things! It seems strange to me to hear you call me by my name, Maggie. It"s as if I looked on you for the first time.
MAGGIE. Look at me, John, for the first time. What do you see?
JOHN. I see a woman who has brought her husband low.
MAGGIE. Only that?
JOHN. I see the tragedy of a man who has found himself out. Eh, I can"t live with you again, Maggie.
[He shivers.]
MAGGIE. Why did you shiver, John?
JOHN. It was at myself for saying that I couldn"t live with you again, when I should have been wondering how for so long you have lived with me. And I suppose you have forgiven me all the time. [She nods.] And forgive me still? [She nods again.] Dear G.o.d!
MAGGIE. John, am I to go? or are you to keep me on? [She is now a little bundle near his feet.] I"m willing to stay because I"m useful to you, if it can"t be for a better reason. [His hand feels for her, and the bundle wriggles nearer.] It"s nothing unusual I"ve done, John. Every man who is high up loves to think that he has done it all himself; and the wife smiles, and lets it go at that. It"s our only joke. Every woman knows that. [He stares at her in hopeless perplexity.] Oh, John, if only you could laugh at me.
JOHN. I can"t laugh, Maggie.
[But as he continues to stare at her a strange disorder appears in his face. MAGGIE feels that it is to be now or never.]
MAGGIE. Laugh, John, laugh. Watch me; see how easy it is.
[A terrible struggle is taking place within him. He creaks. Something that may be mirth forces a pa.s.sage, at first painfully, no more joy in it than in the discoloured water from a spring that has long been dry.
Soon, however, he laughs loud and long. The spring water is becoming clear. MAGGIE claps her hands. He is saved.]