The Collected Dramas of George Bernard Shaw (Illustrated Edition). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
Not five seconds, sir. Fie for shame, Charteris! (He goes out.)
CUTHBERTSON (to Charteris, as he passes him on his way to the door). Bungler! (He follows Craven.)
SYLVIA. Serve you right, you duffer! (She follows Cuthbertson.)
CHARTERIS. Oh, these headstrong old men! (To Grace) Nothing to be done now but go with them and delay the Colonel as much as possible. So I’m afraid I must leave you.
GRACE (rising). Not at all. Paramore invited me, too, when we were talking over there.
CHARTERIS (aghast). You don’t mean to say you’re coming!
GRACE. Most certainly. Do you suppose I will let that woman think I am afraid to meet her? (Charteris sinks on a chair with a prolonged groan.) Come: don’t be silly: you’ll not overtake the Colonel if you delay any longer.
CHARTERIS. Why was I ever born, child of misfortune that I am! (He rises despairingly.) Well, if you must come, you must. (He offers his arm, which she takes.) By the way, what happened after I left you?
GRACE. I gave her a lecture on her behavior which she will remember to the last day of her life.
CHARTERIS (approvingly). That was right, darling. (He slips his arm round her waist.) Just one kiss — to soothe me.
GRACE (complacently offering her cheek). Foolish boy! (He kisses her.) Now come along. (They go out together.)
ACT IV
Sittingroom in Paramore’s apartments in Savile Row. The darkly respectable furniture is, so to speak, en suite with Paramore’s frock coat and cuffs. Viewing the room from the front windows, the door is seen in the opposite wall near the left hand corner. Another door, a light, noiseless partition one covered with a green baize, is in the right hand wall toward the back, leading to Paramore’s consulting room. The fireplace is on the left. At the nearest corner of it a couch is placed at right angles to the wall, settlewise. On the right the wall is occupied by a bookcase, further forward than the green baize door. Beyond the door is a cabinet of anatomical preparations, with a framed photograph of Rembrandt’s School of Anatomy hanging on the wall above it. In front, a little to the right, a tea-table.
Paramore is seated in a round-backed chair, on castors, pouring out tea. Julia sits opposite him, with her back to the fire. He is in high spirits: she very downcast.
PARAMORE (handing her the cup he has just filled). There! Making tea is one of the few things I consider myself able to do thoroughly well. Cake?
JULIA. No, thank you. I don’t like sweet things. (She sets down the cup untasted.)
PARAMORE. Anything wrong with the tea?
JULIA. No, it’s very nice.
PARAMORE. I’m afraid I’m a very bad entertainer. The fact is, I’m too professional. I only shine in consultation. I almost wish you had something the matter with you; so that you might call out my knowledge and sympathy. As it is, I can only admire you, and feel how pleasant it is to have you here.
JULIA (bitterly). And pet me, and say pretty things to me! I wonder you don’t offer me a saucer of milk at once?
PARAMORE (astonished). Why?
JULIA. Because you seem to regard me very much as if I were a Persian cat.
PARAMORE (in strong remonstrance). Miss Cra —
JULIA (cutting him short). Oh, you needn’t protest. I’m used to it: It’s the only sort of attachment I seem always to inspire. (Ironically) You can’t think how flattering it is!
PARAMORE. My dear Miss Craven, what a cynical thing to say! You! who are loved at first sight by the people in the street as you pass. Why, in the club I can tell by the faces of the men whether you have been lately in the room or not.
JULIA (shrinking fiercely). Oh, I hate that look in their faces. Do you know that I have never had one human being care for me since I was born?
PARAMORE. That’s not true, Miss Craven. Even if it were true of your father, and of Charteris, who loves you madly in spite of your dislike for him, it is not true of me.
JULIA (startled). Who told you that about Charteris?
PARAMORE. Why, he himself.
JULIA (with deep, poignant conviction). He cares for only one person in the world; and that is himself. There is not in his whole nature one unselfish spot. He would not spend one hour of his real life with — (a sob chokes her: she rises passionately, crying) You are all alike, every one of you. Even my father only makes a pet of me. (She goes away to the fireplace and stands with her back to him.)
PARAMORE (following her humbly). I don’t deserve this from you: indeed I do not.
JULIA (rating him). Then why do you talk about me with Charteris, behind my back?
PARAMORE. We said nothing disparaging of you. Nobody shall ever do that in my presence. We spoke of the subject nearest our hearts.
JULIA. His heart! Oh, God, his heart! (She sits down on the couch and hides her face.)
PARAMORE (sadly). I am afraid you love him, for all that, Miss Craven.
JULIA (raising her head instantly). If he says that, he lies. If ever you hear it said that I cared for him, contradict it: it is false.
PARAMORE (quickly advancing to her). Miss Craven: is the way clear for me then?
JULIA (pettishly — losing interest in the conversation and looking crossly into the fire). What do you mean?
PARAMORE (impetuously). You must see what I mean. Contradict the rumour of your attachment to Charteris, not by words — it has gone too far for that — but by becoming my wife. (Earnestly.) Believe me: it is not merely your beauty that attracts me: (Julia, interested, looks up at him quickly) I know other beautiful women. It is your heart, your sincerity, your sterling reality, (Julia rises and gazes at him, breathless with a new hope) your great gifts of character that are only half developed because you have never been understood by those about you.
JULIA (looking intently at him, and yet beginning to be derisively sceptical in spite of herself). Have you really seen all that in me?
PARAMORE. I have felt it. I have been alone in the world; and I need you, Julia. That is how I have divined that you, also, are alone in the world.
JULIA (with theatrical pathos). You are right there. I am indeed alone in the world.
PARAMORE (timidly approaching her). With you I should not be alone. And you? — with me?
JULIA. You! (She gets quickly out of his reach, taking refuge at the tea-table.) No, no. I can’t bring myself — (She breaks off, perplexed, and looks uneasily about her.) Oh, I don’t know what to do. You will expect too much from me. (She sits down.)
PARAMORE. I have more faith in you than you have in yourself. Your nature is richer than you think.
JULIA (doubtfully). Do you really believe that I am not the shallow, jealous, devilish tempered creature they all pretend I am?
PARAMORE. I am ready to place my happiness in your hands. Does that prove what I think of you?
JULIA. Yes: I believe you really care for me. (He approaches her eagerly: she has a violent revulsion, and rises with her hand raised as if to beat him off, crying) No, no, no, no. I cannot. It’s impossible. (She goes towards the door.)
PARAMORE (looking wistfully after her). Is it Charteris?
JULIA (stopping and turning). Ah, you think that! (She comes back.) Listen to me. If I say yes, will you promise not to touch me — to give me time to accustom myself to the idea of our new relations?
PARAMORE. I promise most faithfully. I