Three Plays by Granville-Barker. Granville-Barker Harley
I'm innocent . . if that were all.
ann. Sally, what do they say you've done?
sarah. I cry out like any poor girl.
carnaby. There must be no doubt that you're innocent. Why not go for to force Charles into court?
sarah. My innocence is not of the sort which shows up well.
carnaby. Hold publicity in reserve. No fear of the two men arranging to meet, is there?
sarah. They've met . . and they chatted about me.
carnaby. [After a moment.] There's sound humour in that.
sarah. I shall feel able to laugh at them both from Yorkshire.
carnaby. God forbid! Come to Brighton . . we'll rally Charles no end.
sarah. Papa, I know there's nothing to be done.
carnaby. Coward!
sarah. Besides I don't think I want to go back to my happiness.
They are silent for a little.
carnaby. How still! Look . . leaves falling already. Can that man hear what we're saying?
sarah. [To ann.] Can Abud overhear?
ann. I've never talked secrets in the garden before to-day. [Raising her voice but a very little.] Can you hear me, Abud?
No reply comes.
carnaby. Evidently not. There's brains shown in a trifle.
sarah. Does your arm pain you so much?
ann. Sarah, this man that you're fond of and that's not your husband is not by any chance Lord John Carp?
sarah. No.
ann. Nothing would surprise me.
sarah. You are witty . . but a little young to be so hard.
carnaby. Keep to your innocent thoughts.
ann. I must study politics.
sarah. We'll stop talking of this.
ann. No . . let me listen . . quite quietly.
carnaby. Let her listen . . she's going to be married.
sarah. Good luck, Ann.
carnaby. I have great hopes of Ann.
sarah. I hope she may be heartless. To be heartless is to be quite safe.
carnaby. Now we detect a taste of sour grapes in your mouth.
sarah. Butter and eggs.
carnaby. We must all start early in the morning. Sarah will take you, Ann, round the Brighton shops . . fine shops. You shall have the money …
sarah. I will not come with you.
carnaby. [Vexedly.] How absurd . . how ridiculous . . to persist in your silly sentiment.
sarah. [Her voice rising.] I'm tired of that world . . which goes on and on, and there's no dying … one grows into a ghost . . visible . . then invisible. I'm glad paint has gone out of fashion … the painted ghosts were very ill to see.
carnaby. D'ye scoff at civilisation?
sarah. Look ahead for me.
carnaby. Banished to a hole in the damned provinces! But you're young yet, you're charming . . you're the wife . . and the honest wife of one of the country's best men. My head aches. D'ye despise good fortune's gifts? Keep as straight in your place in the world as you can. A monthly packet of books to Yorkshire . . no . . you never were fond of reading. Ye'd play patience . . cultivate chess problems . . kill yourself!
sarah. When one world fails take another.
carnaby. You have no more right to commit suicide than to desert the society you were born into. My head aches.
sarah. George is happy.
carnaby. D'ye dare to think so?
sarah. No. . it's a horrible marriage.
carnaby. He's losing refinement . . mark me . . he no longer polishes his nails.
sarah. But there are the children now.
carnaby. You never have wanted children.
sarah. I don't want a little child.
carnaby. She to be Lady Leete . . someday . . soon! What has he done for his family?
sarah. I'll come with you. You are clever, Papa. And I know just what to say to Charles.
carnaby. [With a curious change of tone.] If you study anatomy you'll find that the brain, as it works, pressing forward the eyes . . thought is painful. Never be defeated. Chapter the latest . . the tickling of the Carp. And my throat is dry . . shall I drink that water?
sarah. No, I wouldn't.
carnaby. Not out of my hand?
ann. [Speaking in a strange quiet voice, after her long silence.] I will not come to Brighton with you.
carnaby. Very dry!
ann. You must go back, Sally.
carnaby. [As he looks at her, standing stiffly.] Now what is Ann's height . . five feet . . ?
ann. Sally must go back, for she belongs to it . . but I'll stay here where I belong.
carnaby. You've spoken three times and the words are jumbling in at my ears meaninglessly. I certainly took too much wine at dinner . . or else … Yes . . Sally goes back. . and you'll go forward. Who stays here? Don't burlesque your sister. What's in the air . . what disease is this?
ann. I mean to disobey you . . to stay here . . never to be unhappy.
carnaby. So pleased!
ann. I want to be an ordinary woman . . not clever . . not fortunate.
carnaby. I can't hear.
ann. Not clever. I don't believe in you, Papa.
carnaby. I exist . . I'm very sorry.
ann. I won't be married to any man. I refuse to be tempted . . I won't see him again.
carnaby. Yes. It's raining.
sarah. Raining!
carnaby. Don't you stop it raining.
ann. [In the same level tones, to her sister now, who otherwise would turn, alarmed, to their father.] And I curse you . . because, we being sisters, I suppose I am much what you were, about to be married; and I think, Sally, you'd have cursed your present self. I could become all that you are and more . . but I don't choose.
sarah. Ann, what is to become of you?
carnaby. Big drops . . big drops!
At this moment abud is passing towards the house, his work finished.
ann. John Abud . . you mean to marry. When you marry . . will you marry me?
A blank silence, into which breaks carnaby's sick voice.
carnaby. Take me indoors. I heard you ask the gardener to marry you.
ann. I asked him.
carnaby. I heard you say that you asked him. Take me in . . but not out of the rain.
ann. Look . . he's straight-limbed and clear eyed . . and I'm a woman.
sarah. Ann, are you mad?
ann. If we two were alone here in this garden and everyone else in the world were dead . . what would you answer?
abud. [Still amazed.] Why . . yes.