Plays: Lady Frederick, The Explorer, A Man of Honour. Maugham William Somerset
I've known Lady Frederick a long time, and she has at least a thousand faults.
[With flashing eyes.] Thanks.
But there's something I will say for her. She's not a liar. If she tells me a thing, I don't hesitate for a moment to believe it.
It's not a matter of the smallest importance if any of you believe me or not. Be so good as to ring, Charlie.
Certainly.
Tell my servant that he's to come here at once and bring the despatch-box which is in my dressing-room.
Yes, miladi.
[Quickly.] I say, what are you going to do?
That is absolutely no business of yours.
Be a brick, Betsy, and don't give her those letters.
I think I've had enough of this business. I'm proposing to finish with it.
Temper, temper.
[Stamping her foot.] Don't say temper to me, Paradine.
Shut up.
Good shot, sir.
I often wonder how you got your reputation for wit, Paradine.
By making a point of laughing heartily at other people's jokes.
Betsy, Betsy, for heaven's sake don't! Have mercy.
Was mercy shown to me? Albert!
Yes, miladi.
You'll go to the proprietor of the hotel and tell him that I propose to leave Monte Carlo to-morrow.
[Aghast.] Are you going?
Very well, my lady.
Have you a good memory for faces?
Yes, my lady.
You're not likely to forget Lord Mereston?
No, my lady.
Then please take note that if his lordship calls upon me in London I'm not at home.
Lady Frederick!
[To Footman.] Go.
What d'you mean? What have I done?
What on earth is she doing?
I have some letters here which would ruin the happiness of a very worthless woman I know. I'm burning them so that I may never have the temptation to use them.
I never saw anything so melodramatic.
Hold your tongue, Paradine. [Turning to Mereston.] My dear Charlie, I came to Monte Carlo to be amused. Your mother has persecuted me incessantly. Your uncle – is too well-bred to talk to his servants as he has talked to me. I've been pestered in one way and another, and insulted till my blood boiled, because apparently they're afraid you may want to marry me. I'm sick and tired of it. I'm not used to treatment of this sort; my patience is quite exhausted. And since you are the cause of the whole thing I have an obvious remedy. I would much rather not have anything more to do with you. If we meet one another in the street you need not trouble to look my way because I shall cut you dead.
[In an undertone.] Thank God for that.
Mother, mother. [To Lady Frederick.] I'm awfully sorry. I feel that you have a right to be angry. For all that you've suffered I beg your pardon most humbly. My mother has said and done things which I regret to say are quite unjustifiable.
Charlie!
On her behalf and on mine I apologise with all my heart.
[Smiling.] Don't take it too seriously. It really doesn't matter. But I think it's far wiser that we shouldn't see one another again.
But I can't live without you.
[With a gasp.] Ah!
Don't you know that my whole happiness is wrapped up in you? I love you with all my heart and soul. I can never love any one but you.
[To Lady Mereston.] Now you've done it. You've done it very neatly.
Don't think me a presumptuous fool. I've been wanting to say this ever since I knew you, but I haven't dared. You're brilliant and charming and fascinating, but I have nothing whatever to offer you.
[Gently.] My dear Charlie.
But if you can overlook my faults, I daresay you could make something of me. Won't you marry me? I should look upon it as a great honour, and I would love you always to the end of my life. I'd try to be worthy of my great happiness and you.
You're very much too modest, Charlie. I'm enormously flattered and grateful. You must give me time to think it over.
Time?
But I can't wait. Don't you see how I love you? You'll never meet any one who'll care for you as I do.
I think you can wait a little. Come and see me to-morrow morning at ten, and I'll give you an answer.
Very well, if I must.
[Smiling.] I'm afraid so.
[To Lady Frederick.] I wonder what the deuce your little game is now.
Sir, your much obliged and very obedient, humble servant.
THIRD ACT
Scene: Lady Frederick's dressing-room. At the back is a large opening, curtained, which leads to the bedroom; on the right a door leading to the passage; on the left a window. In front of the window, of which the blind is drawn, is a dressing-table. Lady Frederick's maid is in the room, a very neat pretty Frenchwoman. She speaks with a slight accent. She rings the bell, and the Footman enters.
As soon as Lord Mereston arrives he is to be shown in.
[Surprised.] Here?
Where