The Complaisant Lover

by Graham Greene

  The Valet leaves.

  VICTOR: Guess who’s here!

  MARY: Victor!

  VICTOR: I thought you’d be surprised.

  MARY: What are you doing here?

  VICTOR: I was very careful at the dinner. I didn’t have a hangover and I caught the night boat.

  MARY: Why didn’t you go to the Amstel?

  VICTOR: I did, but you hadn’t arrived. Anyway, it’s such a huge place, Mary. I thought it’d be more fun being here. And Jane will be happier not moving.

  MARY: Jane’s gone home.

  VICTOR: Oh, fine. Of course I’m sorry to have missed her.

  MARY: You wouldn’t be comfortable here, Victor. And I don’t think they’ve got another room. Jane’s was taken at once.

  VICTOR: Oh, this is quite big enough for two. A fine big bed.

  MARY: It’s not really a double bed. I don’t know why they arranged it this way. There’s a nasty crack in the middle.

  VICTOR: Oh well, we only need to pull the beds apart. Bathroom through there? (He is already taking control of the room.) Separate toilet—that’s nice. What’s the coffee like?

  MARY (weakly): Good.

  VICTOR: And the rolls?

  MARY: They’re good too.

  VICTOR: Raw herrings. And cheese for breakfast. How it all comes back.

  MARY: Comes back?

  VICTOR: I used to know Amsterdam well when I was a student. I’ll show you spots you won’t have found with Jane. (He sits on the bed and bumps up and down.) Good mattress, too. This is much more sympathetic than the Amstel.

  The Stranger coughs.

  MARY (helplessly): Who’s this man, Victor? Your bodyguard?

  VICTOR: Oh, stupid of me. He was at the dinner. Dr. van Droog—my wife.

  VAN DROOG (bows, and says something rapidly in Dutch): Buitengewoon aangenaam met Uw charmante echtgenote te ontmoeten.

  MARY: Dinner?

  VICTOR: The dental dinner. We travelled across together. Dr. van Droog is one of the biggest manufacturers of dental instruments in Holland. The trouble is he doesn’t speak any English.

  MARY: You must have had a very gay dinner. But why bring him here?

  VICTOR: He’s staying here.

  MARY: You don’t mean with us?

  VICTOR: No, no. He always stays here on his way to The Hague.

  VAN DROOG: Het was my zeer aangenaam Uw echtgenoot te ontmoeten, en in elk gewal wat hartelijkheid te kunnen uitwisselen, daar wij bij gebrek aan een gemeenschappelijke taal helaas niet van gedachten kunnen wisselen.

  MARY: What’s he saying?

  VICTOR: I don’t fully understand.

  VAN DROOG: Het was mij een eer de gast te zijn van de Dental Association of Great Britain.

  VICTOR: It may be important. Ring for the valet.

  MARY: The valet? (She rings obediently.)

  VICTOR: To translate, of course.

  VAN DROOG: Neemt U my niet kwalyk dat ik geen Engels ken.

  A ring at the door.

  VICTOR: Entrez.

  The Valet enters and goes for the bags.

  VICTOR (now in charge of the situation): No. Not the bags. I want you to translate what this gentleman has to say.

  VALET (in Dutch): Hy wil dat ik het vertaal, Mijnheer.

  VAN DROOG (rapidly): Zeg aan Mijnheer, dat het mij zeer aangenaam is, met zijn vrouw kennis te maken.

  VALET: He says it is a great pleasure, sir, to him to have met your wife. (To Dr. van Droog:) Waar ontmoette U de vrouw van deze heer?

  VICTOR: What are you saying?

  VALET: I am asking him, sir, where he had the pleasure of meeting your wife.

  VICTOR: Here, of course. Where do you think? This is my wife.

  VALET (looking at Mary reproachfully): I see. I did not understand. I am sorry.

  VAN DROOG: Wilt U aan Mevrouw zeggen dat ofschoon, ik geen Engles spreek, ik er veel van kan verstaan, als men langzaam sprekt.

  VALET: He wants me to tell your wife that though he cannot speak English he can understand a lot if you speak very slowly.

  MARY: That’s certainly going to be fun. Victor, would you mind going away for a few minutes—to the bar, anywhere, with Dr. van Droog. I have to get dressed and go and find a strap for my bag.

  VICTOR: There’s no hurry for that now. We’re staying here.

  VAN DROOG: Het zou mij een groot genoegen doen, als Mijnheer en Mevrouw Rhodes mijn gasten willen zijn in mijn fabriek in den Haag. Het is een zeer moderne fabriek, en ik heb een nieuw ontwerp voor een dril, die beter is dan de Duitse.

  VALET: The gentleman says he would be delighted if the two of you would be his guests at his factory at The Hague. He says it is very up to date and he has a new—(the Valet hesitates, not knowing the word in English)—a new, better than the German, a new …

  VICTOR: New what?

  The Valet puts his finger in his mouth and imitates the sound of a drill.

  MARY: Vivid. Only you left out the spasm of pain. Victor, please go. Just for a few minutes while I get dressed. (She is watching the door anxiously.)

  VICTOR: A moment, and I’ll get rid of him for you. Must be polite. (To the Valet:) Will you explain to Dr. van Droog that we shall be delighted to visit his factory. I am looking particularly for some new instruments for gingivectomy.

  VALET: For what, sir?

  VICTOR: For gingivectomy.

  MARY: I’m not going to stand here in my dressing-gown, half naked, while you discuss ginger-something with Dr.—Dr.—

  VALET: I do not know the word in Dutch, sir.

  MARY: Take him away, Victor, or I’ll push him out.

  Mary makes a gesture with her hand, but Dr. van Droog seizes it and holds her firmly while he makes her a speech in Dutch.

  VAN DROOG: Ik ben zo verheugd dat U myn uitnodiging aangenomen heeft. Myn collega’s en ik zien Uw bezoek met ongeduld tegemoet.

  In the middle of the speech the door opens and Clive enters. Mary has her back turned while she listens to Dr. van Droog. Victor sits on the bed facing the door. He smiles brightly at Clive.

  VICTOR: How are you, Root? Nice to see you.

  Mary turns quickly, but even more disconcerned than Mary is the Valet.

  CLIVE (awkwardly): I didn’t know you were here.

  VICTOR: Just moved in.

  CLIVE: I thought you were going to the Amstel.

  VICTOR: It’s better here. There’s a sort of holiday feeling about this place. What are you doing in Amsterdam?

  CLIVE: I was getting a strap. For this suitcase.

  MARY (coming to the rescue): Clive’s been buying books. It was such a surprise when Jane and I ran into him. He’s been very kind to Jane.

  VICTOR: This is Dr. van Droog, a neighbour of ours at home,

  Mr. Clive Root. (To the Valet:) Go on. Translate.

  VALET (translating unwillingly): Dit is onze buurman in Engeland.

  Dr. van Droog bows and replies in Dutch.

  VAN DROOG: Zeer aangenaam, U te ontmoeten. Ik hoop dat U de professor en zyn echtgenote wilt vergezellen naar den Haag om myn fabriek van tandeheelkundige instrumenten te bezichtigen.

  VALET (wearily): Dr. van Droog welcomes you to the city of Amsterdam and hopes you will accompany the Professor and his wife to The Hague to see over his manufactury of dental appliances.

  VICTOR: Good idea, Root. Come along with us.

  CLIVE: I’m leaving today.

  VICTOR: The books can wait. Stay and keep my wife company while I’m doing the clinics. Know Amsterdam well?

  CLIVE: My first visit.

  VICTOR: I’ll show you around then. There’s a little restaurant—by the canal—if it’s still there …

  CLIVE (watching Mary): It’s still there. I know the one you mean.

  VICTOR: They used to do wonderful chickens on a spit.

  CLIVE: The spit still turns.

  VICTOR: Talking of spit … (To the Valet:) Ask Dr. van Droog what one has to pay here for absorbent wools. By the gross, of course.

 
; VALET: Please, I do not know the Dutch … please …

  CLIVE (to Mary): I hope this strap will do. (He drops it on the suitcase and prepares to go.)

  MARY: Where are you going?

  CLIVE: Home.

  MARY: You don’t have to be at the airport yet. There were those books we had to talk about.

  VICTOR: Oh, if you’re going to talk about books I’m off. With Dr. van Droog.

  Victor takes Dr. van Droog’s arm, but Dr. van Droog begins to talk rapidly again in Dutch.

  VAN DROOG: Bent U ooit in India geweest?

  VALET (patiently): Dr. van Droog wants to know whether you have ever visited India.

  CLIVE: No. I haven’t. Why?

  VALET (to Dr. van Droog): Neen.

  VAN DROOG (to Valet): Zeg aan Mynheer dat zyn voornaam my interesseert. Is hy misschien een afstammeling van de beroemde Robert Clive?

  VALET (to Clive): Dr. van Droog is interested in your prename. He thinks you are perhaps an ancestor of the great Robert Clive.

  VICTOR: Descendant.

  CLIVE: No.

  VALET (to Dr. van Droog): Neen.

  MARY: Victor. Please, Victor.

  Victor at last succeeds in getting Dr. van Droog through the door.

  VICTOR: We’ll be waiting in the bar. Don’t be long.

  He goes. The Valet follows and closes the door.

  CLIVE: Who in God’s name is that man?

  MARY: Why are you called Clive?

  CLIVE: My father was a great admirer of his. To the point of imitation.

  MARY: Imitation?

  CLIVE: He shot himself. Like Clive. From a sense of failure. It’s not a bad reason. So now the family is reunited—here. Has Victor decided on which side of the bed he is going to sleep?

  MARY: I’ve got to dress. (She breaks away and goes to the bathroom.)

  CLIVE: He likes to give the final turn of the screw, doesn’t he? He’s not satisfied with moving into our room and our bed. He has to make it a cheap farce with his Dutch manufacturer of dental instruments. We aren’t allowed a tragedy nowadays without a banana skin to slip on and make it funny. But it hurts just the same.

  MARY (coming to the door without her dressing-gown): What? What were you saying about banana skin?

  CLIVE: Nothing that mattered. It can hurt just as much as the great Clive’s bullet, that’s all.

  MARY: What’s banana skin got to do with it?

  CLIVE: Oh, forget the banana skin. It’s Victor. Victor coming here. Where we made love.

  MARY: That’s not Victor’s fault. He doesn’t know.

  CLIVE: Doesn’t he? I happen to be in Amsterdam—I happen to walk into your bedroom before you are dressed. But oh, no, Victor’s a damned wise monkey. He sees no evil, thinks no evil.

  MARY: That’s not a bad quality.

  CLIVE: You always leap to his defence, don’t you? If you love him so much, why did you come away with me?

  MARY: There are different kinds of love.

  CLIVE: Oh, yes, the higher and the lower. And I’m the lower.

  MARY: I didn’t say so. Clive, how many times do I have to swear to you that Victor and I aren’t lovers? We aren’t man and wife in that way. Why won’t you believe me?

  CLIVE: Go and look in the glass before you put your frock on. Then you’ll know why. I’ll never believe you, Mary, until you sleep beside me every night.

  MARY: You haven’t children.

  CLIVE: A loveless marriage isn’t good for children, so the Sunday Mirror says.

  MARY: But you see, Clive, this isn’t a loveless marriage.

  CLIVE: Yes, I do see.

  Mary goes back into the bathroom to put on her frock. Clive takes a small package out of his pocket and puts it on the dressing table. He is moving to the door when Mary calls to him.

  MARY’S VOICE: What are you doing, Clive?

  CLIVE: Catching my plane.

  Mary comes back with her frock on.

  MARY: Why don’t you stay, as Victor asked?

  CLIVE: Good God, do you really expect me to take the next door room …?

  MARY: Victor’s going to be busy all day.

  CLIVE: Mary, you’re either the most immoral woman I’ve ever known—or the most innocent.

  Mary takes up the package.

  MARY: What’s this, Clive?

  CLIVE: A present I meant to give you when we got past the Customs.

  MARY (excited and beginning to unwrap it): Clive!

  CLIVE: You’ll have to take it through yourself now—or get Victor to hide it among the absorbent wool rolls.

  MARY (opening a box): Ear-rings. But they’re diamonds, Clive.

  CLIVE: This is the city for diamonds.

  MARY: You can’t possibly afford—

  CLIVE: They’re the profit on one fine copy of Redouté’s Lilies.

  MARY: But the currency … This couldn’t have come out of your hundred pounds.

  CLIVE: There are always ways. I went to a little man in Knightsbridge. There are quacks nowadays for every known disease—even for a collapsed currency. The currency quacks are especially smart. They have deep carpets and the receptionists are sexy and frankly impertinent because they think you may be a film magnate.

  MARY: Why a film magnate?

  CLIVE: All film magnates suffer from collapsed currencies. It’s rather like visiting a fashionable abortionist.

  MARY: You could go to prison for this.

  CLIVE: So could he. Everything is on trust between two crooks. No letters. No cheques. Just cash and guarded telephone calls naming no names. Of course this was a very small transaction. He wouldn’t have bothered with it if I hadn’t had a good introduction.

  MARY: Who from?

  CLIVE: A film magnate who happens to read books. Erotica, of course.

  MARY: Clive, they’re lovely. But I don’t need presents from you.

  CLIVE: I would rather have given you a plain gold ring.

  MARY: You know I want the plain gold ring.

  CLIVE: I wish you would show it in the usual simple way.

  MARY: What’s that?

  CLIVE: Leave your husband and marry your lover.

  MARY: Do you call that simple?

  CLIVE: Hundreds of people do it every year.

  MARY: Perhaps they’re tougher than I am, then. I’ve known you for less than two months, and I’ve known Victor for sixteen years. He’s never been unkind even when I’ve run up bills. He’s a good father. The children love him. Particularly Robin. It wasn’t his fault we stopped—sleeping together. I warned you before, Clive—marriage kills that.

  CLIVE: It can’t go on like this, Mary. Odd days arranged by Victor. You have to choose.

  MARY: And if I won’t choose?

  CLIVE: I’ll leave you.

  MARY: Do you mean that?

  CLIVE: Yes.

  MARY: And go off with that little bitch from the bank?

  CLIVE: Perhaps. I hadn’t thought of it.

  MARY: You’re so free, aren’t you? You don’t have to choose. You don’t have to go to someone you love and say, “I’m leaving you. After sixteen years I’m leaving you for a man I’ve slept with for a month. You’ll have to see to things for yourself—the dentist for Robin and writing to Matron about Sally, booking rooms for the seaside in August and getting all those damned little objects for the stockings in time for Christmas.” I’m married, Clive. You aren’t. You are a foreigner. Even when I sleep with you you are a foreigner.

  CLIVE: If we were married—

  MARY: You don’t want that sort of marriage and I don’t. You only marry that way once, and you’ve never tried.

  CLIVE: Oh, yes, I’ve tried.

  MARY: You want to be a lover with a licence, that’s all. All right. You win. I’ll leave Victor, but not just yet, Clive. Not before Christmas. Please not before Christmas. Be patient until January, Clive.

  CLIVE: I’d wait for longer than that if you’d promise—

  MARY: Couldn’t we wait till he finds out? He’
s sure to find out sooner or later.

  CLIVE: He has a wonderful capacity for not noticing.

  MARY: If he found out he wouldn’t want me to stay, would he? There wouldn’t be a struggle, or a choice. He’d throw me out. Say you’ll wait till then, Clive.

  CLIVE: Just now you only asked me to wait till January.

  MARY: Perhaps he’ll find out long before then.

  CLIVE (an idea has been born): It’s possible.

  MARY: Just give me time. You gave me the ear-rings. Give me time too. Till he finds out.

  CLIVE: Till he finds out.

  MARY: I must go down, Clive. It’s all right, isn’t it, now?

  CLIVE: Yes, it’s all right.

  MARY: And we’ll see each other next week?

  CLIVE: Of course. Won’t you put on your ear-rings?

  MARY: I’d better not. Not just yet. He might notice.

  CLIVE: I see. Good-bye, Mary.

  MARY: Until next week?

  CLIVE: Until next week.

  MARY: Aren’t you coming down?

  CLIVE: I’d rather not see Victor for a while if you don’t mind. MARY: He’ll think it odd your staying up here.

  CLIVE: Tell him I asked if I could use your desk to write a letter. I shan’t be here long.

  MARY: Au revoir, darling.

  She touches the bed with her hand as she leaves.

  Clive waits a moment and then goes to the desk and takes out notepaper and envelope. He unscrews his pen and on the point of writing stops and rings the bell.

  After a pause the Valet enters.

  VALET: Yes, sir? Can I take the bags now?

  CLIVE: No. The lady is staying here. Do you want to earn fifty guilder?

  VALET: Well, sir, naturally, but—

  CLIVE: You have only to write a letter for me. I’ll dictate it.

  VALET: What kind of letter, sir?

  CLIVE: Shall we say a hundred guilder and no questions?

  VALET: As you please, sir.

  CLIVE: Then sit down. (The Valet sits.) Here is a pen. Begin “Dear Mr. Rhodes”—no, make it Dear Sir. “I am the valet who looked after you in room 121.” Got that?

  VALET: Yes, sir.

  CLIVE: “I am sorry to see a gentleman like you so sadly deceived.”

  VALET: How do you spell “deceived,” sir?

  CLIVE: Spell it any way you like. It will look more convincing.

  VALET (spelling out): D-e-s-s-e-v-e-d.

  CLIVE: Good enough. “A beautiful woman your wife—”