Уильям Моэм - The Circle

ELIZABETH. Mr. Luton. He's only just been demobilised. He's the manager of a rubber estate in the F.M.S.

C.–C. And what are the F.M.S. when they're at home?

ELIZABETH. The Federated Malay States. He joined up at the beginning of the war. He's just going back there.

C.–C. And why have we been left alone in this very marked manner?

ELIZABETH. Have we? I didn't notice it.

C.–C. I suppose it's difficult for the young to realise that one may be old without being a fool.

ELIZABETH. I never thought you that. Everyone knows you're very intelligent.

C.–C. They certainly ought to by now. I've told them often enough. Are you a little nervous?

ELIZABETH. Let me feel my pulse. [ She puts her finger on her wrist. ] It's perfectly regular.

C.–C. When I suggested staying to luncheon Arnold looked exactly like a dose of castor oil.

ELIZABETH. I wish you'd sit down.

C.–C. Will it make it easier for you? [ He takes a chair. ] You have evidently something very disagreeable to say to me.

ELIZABETH. You won't be cross with me?

C.–C. How old are you?

ELIZABETH. Twenty–five.

C.–C. I'm never cross with a woman under thirty.

ELIZABETH. Oh, then I've got ten years.

C.–C. Mathematics?

ELIZABETH. No. Paint.

C.–C. Well?

ELIZABETH. [ Reflectively. ] I think it would be easier if I sat on your knees.

C.–C. That is a pleasing taste of yours, but you must take care not to put on weight.

[ She sits down on his knees.

ELIZABETH. Am I boney?

C.–C. On the contrary…. I'm listening.

ELIZABETH. Lady Catherine's coming here.

C.–C. Who's Lady Catherine?

ELIZABETH. Your—Arnold's mother.

C.–C. Is she?

[ He withdraws himself a little and ELIZABETH gets up.

ELIZABETH. You mustn't blame Arnold. It's my fault. I insisted. He was against it. I nagged him till he gave way. And then I wrote and asked her to come.

C.–C. I didn't know you knew her.

ELIZABETH. I don't. But I heard she was in London. She's staying at Claridge's. It seemed so heartless not to take the smallest notice of her.

C.–C. When is she coming?

ELIZABETH. We're expecting her in time for luncheon.

C.–C. As soon as that? I understand the embarrassment.

ELIZABETH. You see, we never expected you to be here. You said you'd be in Paris for another month.

C.–C. My dear child, this is your house. There's no reason why you shouldn't ask whom you please to stay with you.

ELIZABETH. After all, whatever her faults, she's Arnold's mother. It seemed so unnatural that they should never see one another. My heart ached for that poor lonely woman.

C.–C. I never heard that she was lonely, and she certainly isn't poor.

ELIZABETH. And there's something else. I couldn't ask her by herself. It would have been so—so insulting. I asked Lord Porteous, too.

C.–C. I see.

ELIZABETH. I daresay you'd rather not meet them.

C.–C. I daresay they'd rather not meet me. I shall get a capital luncheon at the cottage. I've noticed you always get the best food if you come in unexpectedly and have the same as they're having in the servants' hall.

ELIZABETH. No one's ever talked to me about Lady Kitty. It's always been a subject that everyone has avoided. I've never even seen a photograph of her.

C.–C. The house was full of them when she left. I think I told the butler to throw them in the dust–bin. She was very much photographed.

ELIZABETH. Won't you tell me what she was like?

C.–C. She was very like you, Elizabeth, only she had dark hair instead of red.

ELIZABETH. Poor dear! it must be quite white now.

C.–C. I daresay. She was a pretty little thing.

ELIZABETH. But she was one of the great beauties of her day. They say she was lovely.

C.–C. She had the most adorable little nose, like yours….

ELIZABETH. D'you like my nose?

C.–C. And she was very dainty, with a beautiful little figure; very light on her feet. She was like a marquise in an old French comedy. Yes, she was lovely.

ELIZABETH. And I'm sure she's lovely still.

C.–C. She's no chicken, you know.

ELIZABETH. You can't expect me to look at it as you and Arnold do. When you've loved as she's loved you may grow old, but you grow old beautifully.

C.–C. You're very romantic.

ELIZABETH. If everyone hadn't made such a mystery of it I daresay I shouldn't feel as I do. I know she did a great wrong to you and a great wrong to Arnold. I'm willing to acknowledge that.

C.–C. I'm sure it's very kind of you.

ELIZABETH. But she loved and she dared. Romance is such an illusive thing. You read of it in books, but it's seldom you see it face to face. I can't help it if it thrills me.

C.–C. I am painfully aware that the husband in these cases is not a romantic object.

ELIZABETH. She had the world at her feet. You were rich. She was a figure in society. And she gave up everything for love.

C.–C. [ Dryly. ] I'm beginning to suspect it wasn't only for her sake and for Arnold's that you asked her to come here.

ELIZABETH. I seem to know her already. I think her face is a little sad, for a love like that doesn't leave you gay, it leaves you grave, but I think her pale face is unlined. It's like a child's.

C.–C. My dear, how you let your imagination run away with you!

ELIZABETH. I imagine her slight and frail.

C.–C. Frail, certainly.

ELIZABETH. With beautiful thin hands and white hair. I've pictured her so often in that Renaissance Palace that they live in, with old Masters on the walls and lovely carved things all round, sitting in a black silk dress with old lace round her neck and old–fashioned diamonds. You see, I never knew my mother; she died when I was a baby. You can't confide in aunts with huge families of their own. I want Arnold's mother to be a mother to me. I've got so much to say to her.

C.–C. Are you happy with Arnold?

ELIZABETH. Why shouldn't I be?

C.–C. Why haven't you got any babies?

ELIZABETH. Give us a little time. We've only been married three years.

C.–C. I wonder what Hughie is like now!

ELIZABETH. Lord Porteous?

C.–C. He wore his clothes better than any man in London. You know he'd have been Prime Minister if he'd remained in politics.

ELIZABETH. What was he like then?

C.–C. He was a nice–looking fellow. Fine horseman. I suppose there was something very fascinating about him. Yellow hair and blue eyes, you know. He had a very good figure. I liked him. I was his parliamentary secretary. He was Arnold's godfather.

ELIZABETH. I know.

C.–C. I wonder if he ever regrets!

ELIZABETH. I wouldn't.

C.–C. Well, I must be strolling back to my cottage.

ELIZABETH. You're not angry with me?

C.–C. Not a bit.

[ She puts up her face for him to kiss. He kisses her on both cheeks and then goes out. In a moment TEDDIE is seen at the window.

TEDDIE. I saw the old blighter go.

ELIZABETH. Come in.

TEDDIE. Everything all right?

ELIZABETH. Oh, quite, as far as he's concerned. He's going to keep out of the way.

TEDDIE. Was it beastly?

ELIZABETH. No, he made it very easy for me. He's a nice old thing.

TEDDIE. You were rather scared.

ELIZABETH. A little. I am still. I don't know why.

TEDDIE. I guessed you were. I thought I'd come and give you a little moral support. It's ripping here, isn't it?

ELIZABETH. It is rather nice.

TEDDIE. It'll be jolly to think of it when I'm back in the F.M.S.

ELIZABETH. Aren't you homesick sometimes?

TEDDIE. Oh, everyone is now and then, you know.

ELIZABETH. You could have got a job in England if you'd wanted to, couldn't you?