Complete Works of Kate Chopin

by Kate Chopin

  PARKHAM: Oh, you did? A little original thinking, as it were?

  EVA: Yes, entirely original. I thought “now, what would papa want me to do under the circumstances?” Why, simply this: “Go and spend the night at the home of one of our friends, Eva.”

  PARKHAM: Now, I think you are entirely mistaken. I can’t for a moment believe that your father would advise you to any such thing.

  EVA: (With mock loftiness.) Do you presume to know Major Artless better than his own daughter does, Mr. Willis Parkham?

  PARKHAM: I know him quite well enough to feel sure of what I say. Since my boyhood, and the death of my own father, I have had much of his confidence, and he has had all of mine.

  EVA: (Emphatically.) That is precisely it. So in casting about among my father’s friends, for a possible night’s refuge, I said to myself, “there is no one whom father esteems so highly or loves so well as Willis Parkham.”

  PARKHAM: (Aside.) Would to Heaven he had loved me less. And you mean to tell me, Eva, that you have come here to my house with the intention of spending the night?

  EVA: Certainly — that is, part of it, for the night must be half gone. And it’s ever such a lark, too — coming through the night and the snow. I just thought to myself how nice it would be to sleep in that lovely guest-chamber of yours.

  PARKHAM: (Forgetting his dilemma.) It’s been all refitted. It’s charming; you wouldn’t know it.

  EVA: Oh — how nice! Then to get up in the morning and take breakfast with you; you on one side the table, I, on the other.

  PARKHAM: (Still forgetful.) No, I should sit beside you.

  EVA: Well, just as you please, but papa always sits opposite — I pouring your coffee — I say “sugar and cream, Willis? how many lumps?”

  PARKHAM: (Still forgetful.) Two lumps.

  EVA: Only two? Then we pass things to each other. I ring for Cato: “Cato, bring hot buttered toast for Marse Willis, and the morning paper at once.”

  PARKHAM: (Still forgetful.) I’m very fond of buttered toast with the morning paper and hot coffee.

  EVA: Yes, with coffee; isn’t it nice.

  PARKHAM: (Still forgetful.) It would all be delicious. (Suddenly remembers.) But it can’t be! (Dejectedly.)

  EVA: (Goes to table on which tray rests.) This talk about breakfast has made me hungry. (Pours herself small glass of sherry and nibbles cracker with it.) Why can’t it be?

  PARKHAM: Believe me when I tell you, simply, that it can’t — it mustn’t be.

  EVA: (Lays down cracker and glass. Looks down mournfully.) Then I have made a mistake; you are not glad that I came.

  PARKHAM: (Approaches and takes her hand.) Oh, don’t say that. There’s no one in the world whom I want to see always, so much as you. And it’s because I do, and because I’m your friend and your father’s friend, that I say you had better not be here.

  EVA: (Withdraws her hand coldly. With tears in her voice.) Very well, I shall leave without delay. You have a telephone, I believe. Will you kindly ring at once for a carriage?

  PARKHAM: Why not your own? I would offer mine.

  EVA: I wouldn’t trouble you so far, sir. My coachman is ill with la grippe. I came in a carriage from the city stand; I can return in one, I’m sure.

  PARKHAM: Oh, you didn’t come in your own carriage? Your coachman — your servants perhaps do not know that you are here?

  EVA: (Impatiently.) No one knows I am here, but you. (Goes toward her cloak, which she tentatively offers to put on. Furtively wipes corner of her eye with pocket handkerchief.)

  PARKHAM: (Aside — reflectively.) So no one knows she’s here. That presents the matter in a less difficult light. (Steals a glance towards her dejected figure.) She shall stay! (with sudden resolution.) Her father will understand, and he trusts me absolutely. Her presence here I can manage to keep from the knowledge of others. (Goes towards her.) Eva! (A little penitently.)

  EVA: Well?

  PARKHAM: Don’t mind please, what I said.

  EVA: (With indignant reproach.) Don’t mind that; you said or implied I would better have staid home! Perhaps you want me to forget that you said I ought not to have come?

  PARKHAM: Yes. You’ll forget it, won’t you?

  EVA: Never!

  PARKHAM: (Attempting to take her hand.) Oh, you will; because I ask you; because I beg you to. I want you to stay to-night under my roof; to sleep in the guest-chamber that you like so. And I want you to believe that it will be doing me a pleasure — an honor, that I shall remember always. You will, Eva? Say that you will?

  EVA: (Relenting.) It was very unkind, and unfriendly, Willis; papa wouldn’t have treated you so.

  PARKHAM: Oh, I know it seemed a savage thing to say. Some day perhaps, Eva, I may explain it all, if you will give me the right to. (Door bell rings. Parkham starts violently. Walks for a moment distractedly about. Aside.) Heavens! Gadsby! Dodswell! Some idiot that would better never have been born! (Bell rings second time.)

  EVA: Don’t you hear the bell, Willis? Has Cato gone to bed?

  PARKHAM: (Incoherently.) No; yes — I’ll open the door myself. It’s a man I’m expecting on important business.

  EVA: (Astonished.) Important business now? Almost midnight.

  PARKHAM: I always — that is I generally attend to business at that hour. May I ask you to go into this room — (going towards door to right) — while he is here?

  EVA: Why, certainly. Will he be long, do you suppose?

  PARKHAM: Only a few moments. (Bell rings third time. Opens door for Eva. Exit Eva. Parkham then opens folding doors and outer door. Enter, Mr. Cool Lately, stamping and brushing off the snow.)

  COOL LATELY: I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before, Mr. Parkham; dare say you have forgotten. Permit me — this card may possibly help to refresh your memory. (Hands card to Parkham.)

  PARKHAM: (Reads.) Mr. Cool Lately.

  COOL LATELY: Reporter, occasional paragraphist, and special interviewer on staff of Paul Pry!

  PARKHAM: I can’t recall the name, though your face is not unfamiliar. Let me ask you to state as briefly as you can the business which brings you to my house at so unseasonable an hour.

  COOL LATELY: Only too happy to do so, Mr. Parkham. (Seats himself in a chair indicated by Parkham.) Since you mention unseasonable hour, my theory is, that hours are all one, or ought to be, to a man in public life.

  PARKHAM: I don’t know how it may be to a man in public life, but to a man in private life they are certainly not all one.

  COOL LATELY: Only your modest way of putting it, Mr. Parkham; for you know you are at present an object of special interest to the public. Your friend, Mr. Dodswell, kindly dropped into the Paul-Pry office on his return from the informal political gathering which he tells us assembled here to-night ——

  PARKHAM: (Aside.) Damn Dodswell!

  COOL LATELY: And in which you positively decline to represent your party before the convention, and formulated your reasons for doing so. Now ——

  PARKHAM: It appears to me that Mr. Dodswell’s information has fully covered the ground.

  COOL LATELY: By no means, my dear Mr. Parkham, by no means. Having this amount of good inside information on hand, naturally we thirsted for more. The hour was late, to be sure, and it was snowing — obstacles, I’ll admit; but to men in my profession obstacles exist only to be overcome. I jumped into a cab; away I drove; saw the light in the vestibule ——

  PARKHAM: (Aside.) Hang the light in the vestibule ——

  COOL LATELY: Rang the bell, and here I am. (Cool Lately has observed through his eye-glasses, rather closely, details of the apartment whilst talking. Parkham sees that he has perceived Eva’s cloak and hat on chair.)

  PARKHAM: (With forced laugh.) Servants will take liberties in bachelor establishments, Mr. Lately. You see where my house-maid chooses to deposit her toggery during my absence?

  COOL LATELY: (Aside.) Housemaid is good.

  PARKHAM: But, let us make haste to dispose of this l
ittle interview as quickly as possible.

  COOL LATELY: (Takes notebook from pocket and sharpens pencil.) Now, you’re talking, Mr. Parkham.

  PARKHAM: I suppose you want briefly my political attitude; reasons for declining this nomination; opinions on the tariff, perhaps, in its relations to our American industries ——

  COOL LATELY: It’s clever (American sense) of you, Mr. Parkham, to offer these suggestions; but you are not exactly on to it. No, sir. Anyone can have opinions about the tariff and protection and get them into print, for that matter. It’s those little intimate details of a man’s life — and daily life, that we want — that appeal to the sympathies of our American public. When, where, how were you born. How many servants do you keep? How many horses? What time do you rise in the morning — if in the morning — and what do you eat for your breakfast? These are merely suggestions, of course, which I throw out — which we can elaborate as we go along, and —

  EVA: (Opens door and pokes out her head.) Pardon me for interruption; but, Willis come here a moment, please. It’s about Booboo’s bed; he can’t sleep on that hard Axminster rug, don’t you know? (Exit Parkham wildly.)

  COOL LATELY: (Alone.) Well, Cool Lately, if this find isn’t worth a ten dollar raise in your salary, I don’t know what is. (Writes rapidly in note book. Examines circular from all sides, turns it about and feels it. Does same with hat. Finally reads aloud from notes.) “Corruption in high circles. Mr. Willis Parkham’s reasons for declining nomination won’t hold water. A lady in the case. Daughter of a well known retired military officer implicated.” A good night’s work, Cool Lately. (Replaces book in pocket. Enter Parkham from right.) Hem-he, (coughs affectedly.) I see you have Miss Eva Artless for a guest, Mr. Parkham.

  PARKHAM: Miss Artless and her father are doing me that honor, sir.

  COOL LATELY: Oh. Ah — really now, that’s very singular.

  PARKHAM: Not at all singular. It happens often that I entertain such old friends at my house for a day or two.

  COOL LATELY: Oh, to be sure. It’s nothing. I was merely thinking of a telegram that came into the office an hour or two ago from the G. A. R. reunion at Bolton. Must have been a fake.

  PARKHAM: (Vociferously.) The lady is not Miss Artless!

  COOL LATELY: Not Miss Artless! Well, upon my word, I could have sworn it was. Nothing so curious and interesting as these cases of mistaken identity.

  PARKHAM: (Driven to the wall.) The lady is Mrs. Willis Parkham, my wife! Now will you kindly excuse me, Mr. Lately, from any further conversation, and let me bid you good-night.

  COOL LATELY: Why, Mr. Parkham, you must perceive that this is a highly interesting piece of information. Permit me to present my felicitations, and to ask when the happy event was consummated?

  PARKHAM: I decline to discuss the subject further. (Goes towards folding door which he opens.)

  COOL LATELY: I understand then that we have your authority to make public the announcement of your marriage to Miss Eva Artless.

  PARKHAM: I have nothing to say. Good evening, Mr. Lately.

  COOL LATELY: Good evening, Mr. Parkham. (Aside.) A rattling good two-column article, all the same. (Exit Cool Lately. Parkham drags himself, with a chair, in deepest dejection to front of stage. Seats himself and groans.) Oh what a situation! what a situation! Why couldn’t that major have died in his cradle and left this poor girl to be brought up as a rational woman ought to be! But I must act at once. There isn’t a moment to lose. Eva Artless has to marry me to-night if she’s got to be hypnotized! (Hurries towards door to left. Opens it and calls.) Cato! Cato! (Interval.) I say, Cato! (Throws poker, tongs, and finally chair through the door with much clatter.) Cato!!

  CATO: (Appears, holding candle. Very much in disorder, and half awake.) Did you heah a rakit, Marse Wills? I was dreamin’ dat my po’ ole ‘oman done come back f’om de distant sho’s.

  PARKHAM: (Drags Cato to front of stage.) Cato, can you be trusted?

  CATO: Kin I be trusted! Ef dat aint some’pin putty fur ole Marse Hank Parkham’s gran’son to be a axin’ Cato! Aint I done ben trested wid mo’ gole an’ silver ‘an you ever sot yo’ eyes on? ——

  PARKHAM: Oh, never mind that story.

  CATO: —— Dat time down tu de Ridge, w’en we heahed de Yanks a shootin’ like all possessed in de hills, an’ we knowed dey was a comin’, ——

  PARKHAM: Yes, yes, I know.

  CATO: —— Ole Marse Hank, he come tu me, an’ he ‘low “Cato you’s de on’iest one on de place w’at I kin tres” ——

  PARKHAM: (Simultaneously with Cato’s closing lines. Aside.) By heavens! for once in my life, I shan’t hear that story to its close ——

  CATO: Take dis heah gole, an’ dis heah silver ——

  PARKHAM: Come, listen, Cato. Not another word. There’s very important work to be done here before morning, and you’ve got to do your share of it. You know where the Rev. Dr. Andrews lives?

  CATO: De preacher? Like I aint pass by his house an’ his chu’ch an’ heahed him kiarrin’ on mo’ times ‘an ——

  PARKHAM: Very well. I want you to go to his house ——

  CATO: To-morrow mo’nin’?

  PARKHAM: Now, to-night. Tell him I must see him at once. If he seems reluctant to come, insist. Tell him it’s very urgent.

  CATO: I mus’n tell ‘im you gwine crazy, Marse Wills?

  PARKHAM: Nothing of the sort. But I depend upon you to bring him. Tell him, if it’s necessary, that I’m dying, and want the last consolations of the church before breathing my last — anything to make him come. Now go — and be quick.

  CATO: (Aside.) All de same, I gwine tell ‘im I t’inks po’ Marse Wills is losin’ ‘is mine.

  (Exit Cato to left.)

  PARKHAM: (Alone.) Now for the ordeal! Willis Parkham, see if you are man enough to win a woman in a quarter of an hour! (Knocks upon door to right. Eva opens it.)

  EVA: (Coming upon stage.) Well, has your friend gone at last? What a time he staid.

  PARKHAM: I don’t think I said he was my friend.

  EVA: NO, it’s true. You said business acquaintance. What a nice, intelligent face he has.

  PARKHAM: I think he has the countenance of a fiend.

  EVA: (Seats herself on ottoman.) Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. But what night-owls we are. It’s jolly to be setting up so late, too — but I don’t know if papa would like it.

  PARKHAM: (Stands with folded arms and serious air before the girl.) Eva, there is something very important I want to speak with you about. A matter of paramount importance, I may say.

  EVA: Why, I never saw you quite so important before, Willis.

  PARKHAM: And I’m sure, there has never before come so critical a moment in my life. I wish to make you an offer of marriage.

  EVA: (Startled, but quickly dissembles her surprise.) Oh, indeed! Well, I don’t know why, but this appears to me a strange time and place you have chosen to make me a proposal of marriage.

  PARKHAM: I have chosen neither the time nor the place; both have been forced upon me.

  EVA: (Emphatically.) Forced upon you! Well, I declare; forced upon you! Perhaps the whole situation has been forced upon you, too?

  PARKHAM: It has.

  EVA: I am at a perfect loss to understand why you so suddenly, and in the middle of the night, feel forced to make me an offer of marriage. (With dignity.) I simply decline it. Consider yourself rejected.

  PARKHAM: (Resolutely.) No; I’ll consider nothing of the sort.

  EVA: Just as you like. You needn’t to. I consider you rejected, so it amounts to the same thing.

  PARKHAM: Please understand, Eva, that I am moved by no purely selfish motives to urge you to become my wife. I am thinking only of you, of your own coming welfare and happiness. The peace of your whole future life may depend upon your marriage to me. There are reasons why you must be my wife — reasons that are not to be set aside.

  EVA: (Has been boiling over. Laughs hysterically.) And this is an offer of marriag
e! I never had one before! I never want one again! So Mr. Willis Parkham, you think that my future happiness depends upon becoming your wife. Well, permit me to inform you, that you are making a curious mistake. The idea of being your wife has never entered my mind. And so little does my future happiness depend upon your society, that I intend to quit it just as soon as I can. (A conception of his maladroitness has dawned upon Parkham during the above harangue. He seats himself apart with head buried in his hands. He rises finally and goes to stand behind her — but close to her.)

  PARKHAM: Eva ——

  EVA: (With affected weariness.) Oh what is it?

  PARKHAM: I have another reason for wanting you to marry me; the strongest reason which any man could have for wanting a woman to be his wife. I suppose it is useless, however, to mention it. I have proven myself so clumsy an idiot, that you can never again think of me save with anger and contempt.

  EVA: (Carelessly.) Oh, I should like to hear it, all the same — I suppose it is fully as startling as the one you have already expressed.

  PARKHAM: You have a perfect right to sneer at so great a fool. I am not asking you now to marry me; I only want to tell you how I love you. (Bending his head close to hers, fervently.) Oh, how I love you!

  EVA: (Gives little start of delight, but pretends doubt and indifference.) Oh, indeed? Another surprising disclosure!

  PARKHAM: I knew you’d not believe me. How can I expect you to, after all that has happened?

  EVA: No: but these varying moods of yours are interesting. You say you love me.

  PARKHAM: To distraction, Eva —

  EVA: To distraction! (Laughs lightly.) How long, may I ask, have you loved me to distraction?

  PARKHAM: (Distinctly.) All my life.

  EVA: (Makes figures on the floor with the toe of her boot, for a long moment. Rises suddenly and faces him, seriously and resolutely.) Willis, how can you say that? You have acted through this whole evening in a way that I can’t understand. Now, at the close of it, you tell me that you love me. I want to believe it. But why do you tell me that it has been always? If you do love me, confess, Willis, it has only been for the past hour.