Alec.
I am afraid it’s very clear.
Lucy.
There must be some horrible mistake.
Alec.
I wish there were.
George.
[Breaking down into tears and sinking into a chair.] Oh, God! What shall I do?
Lucy.
Don’t do that, George. We want all our calmness now.
George.
Don’t you see they all expected it? It was only you and I who believed in his innocence.
Lucy.
[To Alec.] Did you hear the evidence?
Alec.
Yes.
Lucy.
And you followed it carefully?
Alec.
Very.
Lucy.
What impression did it leave on your mind?
Alec.
What can it matter how it affected me?
Lucy.
I want to know.
Dick.
Lucy, you’re torturing us all.
Lucy.
If you had been on the jury would your verdict have been the same as theirs?
Alec.
I should have been obliged to judge according to my conscience.
Lucy.
I see. And you have no doubt that he was guilty?
Alec.
Don’t ask me these horrible questions.
Lucy.
But it’s very important. I know that you are a perfectly honest and upright man. If you think he was guilty, there is nothing more to be said.
Alec.
The case was so plain that the jury were not out of the box for more than ten minutes.
Lucy.
Did the judge say anything?
Alec.
[Hesitatingly.] He said there could be no doubt about the justice of the verdict.
Lucy.
What else?... [He looks at her without answering.] You had better tell me now. I shall see it in the papers to-morrow.
Alec.
[As though the words were dragged out of him.] He called it a very mean and shameful crime, worse than another man’s because your father was a gentleman of ancient family and bore a name of great honour.
Dick.
[To Mrs. Crowley.] These judges have a weakness for pointing a moral.
Lucy.
And what was the sentence? [A pause.] Well?
Alec.
Seven years’ penal servitude.
George.
Oh, God!
Dick.
My dear girl, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.
Lady Kelsey.
Lucy, what is it? You frighten me.
Lucy.
Try and bear up, George. We want all the strength we’ve got, you and I.
[Mrs. Crowley puts her arms round Lucy and kisses her.
Mrs. Crowley.
Oh, my dear, my dear!
Lucy.
[Disengaging herself.] You’re all very kind, and I know you sympathise with me....
Mrs. Crowley.
[Interrupting her.] You know that we’ll do everything we can to help you.
Lucy.
It’s so good of you. There’s really nothing that any one can do. Would you all mind leaving me alone with George? We must talk this over by ourselves.
Mrs. Crowley.
Very well. Mr. Lomas, will you put me into a cab?
Dick.
Certainly. [To Lucy.] Good-bye, dear, and God bless you.
Lucy.
[Shaking hands with him.] Don’t worry too much about me. If there’s anything I want, I’ll let you know.
Dick.
Thanks.
[He goes out with Mrs. Crowley.
Alec.
May I speak to you for a few minutes alone?
Lucy.
Not now, Mr. Mackenzie. I don’t want to seem rude, but ...
Alec.
[Interrupting.] I know, and I wouldn’t insist unless it were a matter of the most urgent importance.
Lucy.
Very well. George, will you take Aunt Alice to her room? I shall want you in a moment.
George.
Yes.
Lucy.
[To Lady Kelsey.] Won’t you lie down and try and sleep a little? You must be dreadfully exhausted.
Lady Kelsey.
Ah, don’t think of me now, dear. Think of yourself.
Lucy.
[Smiling.] It’s purely selfish. It eases me a little to fuss about you.
George.
I’ll wait in the smoking-room, Lucy.
Lucy.
Do!
[George and Lady Kelsey go out.
Alec.
I think your self-command is wonderful. I’ve never admired you more than at this moment.
Lucy.
You make me feel such a prig. It’s not really very strange if I keep my head, because I’ve had an immensely long training. Since I was fifteen I’ve been alone to care for George and my father.... Won’t you sit down?
Alec.
I can say what I want in a very few words. You know that in a week I start for Mombassa to take charge of the expedition in North-East Africa. I may be away for three or four years, and I shall be exposed to a certain amount of danger. When I left Africa last time to gather supplies, I determined I would crush those wretched slave-traders, and now I think I have the means to do it.
Lucy.
I think you are engaged on a very great work.
Alec.
I don’t know whether you ever noticed that — that I cared more for you than for any one in the world. But with the long journey in front of me I didn’t think it was right to say anything to you. It wasn’t fair to ask you to bind yourself during my long absence. And there was always the risk that a stray bullet might put an end to me. I made up my mind that I must wait till I returned. But things have changed now. Lucy, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me before I go?
Lucy.
No, I can’t do that. It’s very generous of you, but I couldn’t.
Alec.
Why not? Don’t you know that I love you? It would help me so much if I knew that you were waiting for me at home.
Lucy.
I must look after my father. I shall go and live near the — prison, so that I can see him whenever it’s possible.
Alec.
You can do that as well if you’re my wife.... You have before you a very difficult and trying time. Won’t you let me help you?
Lucy.
I couldn’t. Heaven knows, I’m grateful to you for offering to marry me on this day of my bitter humiliation. I shall never forget your great kindness. But I must stand alone. I must devote myself to my father. When he’s released I must have a home to bring him to, and I must tend him and care for him. Ah, now he wants me more than ever.
Alec.
You’re very proud.
Lucy.
[Giving him her hand.] Dear friend, don’t think hardly of me. I think I love you as much as it’s possible for a woman to love a man.
Alec.
Lucy!
Lucy.
[With a smile.] Did you want me to tell you that in so many words? I admire you, and I trust you. I should be very happy if George could grow into so brave and honest a man as you.
Alec.
They’re very modest crumbs with which you want me to be satisfied.
Lucy.
I know in your heart you think I’m right. You would never seek to dissuade me from what I’m convinced is my duty.
Alec.
Can’t I do anything for you at all?
[She looks at him for a moment intently. She rings the bell.
Lucy.
Yes, you can do me the greatest possible service.
Alec.
I’m so glad. What is it you mean?
Lucy.
Wait, and I’ll tell you. [The Butler enters.] Ask Mr. George to come here, please.
Butler.
>
Very well, Miss.
[He goes out.
Lucy.
I want you to help me.
[George comes in.
George.
Yes, Lucy?
Lucy.
I want to give into your charge what I love most in the world.... George, have you thought at all what you’re going to do now? I’m afraid you can’t go back to Oxford.
George.
No, I don’t know what’s to become of me. I wish I were dead.
Lucy.
An idea has just come to me. I’m going to ask Mr. Mackenzie to take you with him to Africa. Will you go?
George.
Yes, yes! I’d do anything to get away from England. I daren’t face my friends — I’m too ashamed.
Lucy.
Ah, but it’s not to hide yourself that I want you to go. Mr. Mackenzie, I daresay you know that we’ve always been very proud of our name. And now it’s hopelessly dishonoured.
George.
Lucy, for God’s sake ...
Lucy.
[Turning to him.] Now our only hope is in you. You have the opportunity of achieving a great thing. You can bring back the old name to its old honour. Oh, I wish I were a man. I can do nothing but wait and watch. If I could only fill you with my courage and with my ambition! Mr. Mackenzie, you asked if you could do anything for me. You can give George the chance of wiping out the shame of our family.
Alec.
Do you know that he will have to suffer every sort of danger and privation, that often he will be parched by the heat, and often soaked to the skin for days together? Sometimes he’ll not have enough to eat, and he’ll have to work harder than a navvy.
Lucy.
Do you hear, George? Are you willing to go?
George.
I’ll do anything you want me to, Lucy.
Alec.
And you know that he may get killed. There may be a good deal of fighting.
Lucy.
If he dies a brave man’s death, I have nothing more to ask.
Alec.
[To George.] Very well. Come with me, and I’ll do my best for you.
Lucy.
Ah, thanks. You are really my friend.
Alec.
And when I come back?
Lucy.
Then, if you still care, ask your question again.
Alec.
And the answer?
Lucy.
[With a little smile.] The answer, perhaps, will be different.
THE SECOND ACT
Scene: Alec Mackenzie’s tent in North-East Africa. It is night. The place is dimly lighted. There is a little camp bed in one corner with a mosquito net over it. There are two or three folding chairs, some tin cases, and a table. On this a gun is lying.
Dick is seated with his head on his hands, leaning on the table, fast asleep. Dr. Adamson, the surgeon of the expedition, comes in. He is a large-boned brawny fellow with a Scotch accent. He looks at Dick and smiles.
Doctor.
Hulloa, there! [Dick starts up and seizes the gun. The Doctor laughs.] All right. Don’t shoot. It’s only me.
Dick.
[With a laugh.] Why the dickens did you wake me up? I was dreaming — dreaming of a high-heeled boot and a neat ankle, and the swish of a white lace petticoat.
Doctor.
I thought I’d just have a look at your arm.
Dick.
It’s one of the most æsthetic sights I know.
Doctor.
Your arm?
Dick.
A pretty woman crossing Piccadilly at Swan and Edgar’s. You are a savage, my good doctor, and a barbarian. You don’t know the care and forethought, the hours of anxious meditation, it has needed for her to hold up that well-made skirt with the elegant grace which enchants you.
Doctor.
I’m afraid you’re a very immoral man, Lomas.
Dick.
Ah, my dear fellow, at my time of life I have to content myself with condemning the behaviour of the younger generation. Even a camp bed in a stuffy tent with mosquitoes buzzing all around me has allurements greater than those of youth and beauty. And I declare for all women to hear that I am proof against their wiles. Give me a comfortable bed to sleep in, plenty to eat, tobacco to smoke, and Amaryllis may go hang.
Doctor.
Well, let’s look at this wound of yours. Has it been throbbing at all?
Dick.
Oh, it’s not worth bothering about. It’ll be all right to-morrow.
Doctor.
I’ll put a clean dressing on all the same.
Dick.
All right. [He takes off his coat and rolls up his sleeve. His arm is bandaged, and during the next speeches the Doctor puts on a dressing and a clean bandage.] You must be pretty well done up, aren’t you?
Doctor.
Just about dropping. But I’ve got a deuce of a lot more work before I turn in.
Dick.
The thing that amuses me is to remember that I came to Africa thinking I was going to have a rattling good time.
Doctor.
You couldn’t exactly describe it as a picnic, could you? But I don’t suppose any of us knew it would be such a tough job as it’s turned out.
Dick.
My friend, if ever I return to my native land, I will never be such a crass and blithering idiot as to give way again to a spirit of adventure.
Doctor.
[With a laugh.] You’re not the sort of chap whom one would expect to take to African work. Why the blazes did you come?
Dick.
That’s precisely what I’ve been asking myself ever since we landed in this God-forsaken swamp.
Doctor.
The wound looks healthy enough. It’ll hardly even leave a scar.
Dick.
I’m glad that my fatal beauty won’t be injured.... You see, Alec’s about the oldest friend I have. And then there’s young Allerton, I’ve known him ever since he was a kid.
Doctor.
That’s an acquaintance that most of us wouldn’t boast about.
Dick.
I had an idea I’d like Bond Street all the better when I got back. I never knew that I should be eaten alive by every kind of disgusting animal by night and day. I say, Doctor, do you ever think of a rump steak?
Doctor.
When?
Dick.
[With a wave of the hand.] Sometimes, when we’re marching under a sun that just about takes the roof of your head off, and we’ve had the scantiest and most uncomfortable breakfast possible, I have a vision.
Doctor.
D’you mind only gesticulating with one arm?
Dick.
I see the dining-room of my club and myself sitting at a little table by the window looking out on Piccadilly, and there’s a spotless tablecloth, and all the accessories are spick and span. An obsequious servant brings me a rump steak, grilled to perfection, and so tender that it melts in the mouth. And he puts by my side a plate of crisp, fried potatoes. Can’t you smell them?
Doctor.
[Laughing.] Shut up!
Dick.
And then another obsequious servant brings me a pewter tankard, and into it he pours a bottle, a large bottle, mind you, of foaming ale.
Doctor.
You’ve certainly added considerably to our cheerfulness.
Dick.
[With a shrug of the shoulders.] I’ve often been driven to appease the pangs of raging hunger with a careless epigram, and by the laborious composition of a limerick I have sought to deceive a most unholy thirst.
Doctor.
Well, last night I thought you’d made your last joke, old man, and that I had given my last dose of quinine.
Dick.
We were in rather a tight corner, weren’t we?
Doctor.
This is the third expedition I’ve gone with Mackenzie against the slave-raiders, and I promise you I’ve never been so certain that all was over wi
th us.
Dick.
Funny thing death is, you know. When you think of it beforehand, it makes you squirm in your shoes, but when you’ve just got it face to face, it seems so obvious that you forget to be afraid. It’s one of my principles never to be impressed by a platitude.
Doctor.
It’s only by a miracle we escaped. If those Arabs hadn’t hesitated to attack us just those ten minutes we should have been wiped out.
Dick.
Alec was splendid, wasn’t he?
Doctor.
Yes, by Jove! He thought we were done for.
Dick.
What makes you think that?
Doctor.
Well, you see, I know him pretty well. He’s been a pal of yours for twenty years in England, but I’ve been with him out here three times, and I tell you there’s not much about a man that you don’t know then.
Dick.
Well?
Doctor.
Well, when things are going smoothly and everything’s flourishing, he’s apt to be a bit irritable. He keeps rather to himself, and he doesn’t say much unless you do something he doesn’t approve of.
Dick.
And then, by Jove, he comes down on one like a thousand of bricks. It’s not for nothing the natives call him Thunder and Lightning.
Doctor.
But when things begin to look black, his spirits go up like one o’clock. And the worse they are, the more cheerful he is.
Dick.
It’s one of his most irritating characteristics.
Doctor.
When every one is starving with hunger, and dead tired, and soaked to the skin, Mackenzie fairly bubbles over with good-humour.
Dick.
When I’m in a bad temper, I much prefer every one else to be in a bad temper too.
Doctor.
These last few days, he’s been positively hilarious. Yesterday he was cracking jokes with the natives.
Dick.
[Dryly.] Scotch jokes. I daresay they sound funny in an African dialect.
Doctor.
I’ve never seen him more cheerful. I said to myself: By the Lord Harry, the chief thinks we’re in a devil of a bad way.
Dick.
Thank Heaven, it’s all over now. We’ve none of us had any sleep for three days, and when I once get off, I don’t mean to wake up for a week.
Doctor.
I must go and see the rest of my patients. Perkins has got a bad dose of fever this time. He was quite delirious a while ago.
Dick.
By Jove, I’d almost forgotten. How one changes out here! Here am I feeling happy and comfortable and inclined to make a little jest or two, and I’ve forgotten already that poor Richardson is dead and Lord knows how many natives.
Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated) Page 357
