The Complete Works. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
and the rest shouting at me to swallow the confounded thing, I was getting black in the face, and my head was bursting: I could see nothing but red spots. It was a near thing, I tell you. Suddenly I got a shake; and then a little fist gave me a stunning thump on the back, that made the cherry bounce out against my palate. I gasped and coughed like a grampus: the stalk was down my throat still. Then the little hand grabbed my throat and made me open my mouth wide; and the cherry was pulled out, stalk and all. It was Lalage who did this while the rest were gaping helplessly. I dont remember what followed. I thought I had fainted; but it appears that I nearly cried, and talked the most awful nonsense to her. I suppose the choking made me hysterical. However, I distinctly recollect the stage manager bullying the girls, and turning us all out. I was very angry with myself for being childish, as they told me I had been; and when I got back to Cambridge I actually took to reading. A few months afterward I made another trip to town, and went behind the scenes again. She recognized me, and chaffed me about the cherry. I jumped at my chance; I improved the acquaintance; and now I know her pretty well.”
“You doubt whether any of the ladies that were with us at the concert would have been equally useful in such an emergency?”
“I should think I do doubt it, my boy. Hush! Now that the ballet is over, we are annoying people by talking.”
“You are right,” replied Conolly. “Aha! Here is Miss Lalage again.”
Marmaduke raised his opera-glass to his eyes, eager for another smile from the actress. He seemed about to be gratified; for her glance was travelling toward him along the row of stalls. But it was arrested by Conolly, on whom she looked with perceptible surprise and dismay. Lind, puzzled, turned toward his companion, and found him smiling maliciously at Mademoiselle Lalage, who recovered her vivacity with an effort, and continued her part with more nervousness than he had ever seen her display before.
Shortly before the curtain fell, they left the theatre, and reentered it by the stage door.
“Queer place, isnt it?” said Lind.
Conolly nodded, but went forward like one well accustomed to the dingy labyrinth of oldfashioned stages. Presently they came upon Lalage. She was much heated by her exertions, thickly painted, and very angry.
“Well?” she said quarrelsomely.
Marmaduke, perceiving that her challenge was not addressed to him, but to Conolly, looked from one to the other, mystified.
“I have come to see you act at last,” said Conolly.
“You might have told me you were coming. I could have got you a stall, although I suppose you would have preferred to throw away your money like a fool.”
“I must admit, my dear,” said Conolly, “that I could have spent it to much greater advantage.”
“Indeed! and you!” she said, turning to Lind, whose deepening color betrayed his growing mortification: “what is the matter with you?”
“I have played a trick on your friend,” said Conolly. “He suggested this visit; and I did not tell him of the relation between us. Finding us on terms of familiarity, if not of affection, he is naturally surprised.”
“As I have never tried to meddle with your private affairs,” said
Marmaduke to Lalage, “I need not apologize for not knowing your husband.
But I regret — —”
The actress laughed in spite of her vexation. “Why, you silly old thing!” she exclaimed, “he is no more my husband than you are!”
“Oh!” said Marmaduke. “Indeed!”
“I am her brother,” said Conolly considerately, stifling a smile.
“Why,” said Mademoiselle Lalage fiercely, raising her voice, “what else did you think?”
“Hush,” said Conolly, “we are talking too much in this crowd. You had better change your dress, Susanna, and then we can settle what to do next.”
“You can settle what you please,” she replied. “I am going home.”
“Mr. Lind has suggested our supping together,” said Conolly, observing her curiously.
Susanna looked quickly at them.
“Who is Mr. Lind?” she said.
“Your friend, of course,” said Conolly, with an answering flash of intelligence that brought out the resemblance between them startlingly. “Mr. Marmaduke Lind.”
Marmaduke became very red as they both waited for him to explain.
“I thought that you would perhaps join us at supper,” he said to
Susanna.
“Did you?” she said, threateningly. Then she turned her back on him and went to her dressing-room.
“Well, Mr. Lind,” said Conolly, “what do you think of Mademoiselle
Lalage now?”
“I think her annoyance is very natural,” said Marmaduke, gloomily. “No doubt you are right to take care of your sister, but you are very much mistaken if you think I meant to act badly toward her.”
“It is no part of my duty to take care of her,” said Conolly, seriously. “She is her own guardian, and she has never been encouraged to suppose that her responsibility lies with any one but herself.”
“It doesnt matter now,” said Marmaduke; “for I intend never to speak to her again.”
Conolly laughed. “However that may turn out,” he said, “we are evidently not in the mood for further conviviality, so let us postpone the supper to some other occasion. May I advise you not to wait until Susanna returns. There is no chance of a reconciliation tonight.”
“I dont want any reconciliation.”
“Of course not; I had forgotten,” replied Conolly, placably. “Then I suppose you will go before she has finished dressing.”
“I shall go now,” said Marmaduke, buttoning his overcoat, and turning away.
“Goodnight,” said Conolly.
“Goodnight,” muttered Marmaduke, petulantly, and disappeared.
Conolly waited a moment, so that he might not overtake Lind. He then went for a cab, and waited at the stage door until his sister came down, frowning. She got into the hansom without a word.
“Why dont you have a brougham, instead of going about in cabs?” he said, as they drove away.
“Because I like a hansom better than a brougham; and I had rather pay four shillings a night and travel comfortably, than thirteen and be half suffocated.”
“I thought the appearance of — —”
“There is no use in your talking to me. I cant hear a word you say going over these stones.”
When they were alone together in their drawingroom in Lambeth, he, after walking up and down the room a few times, and laughing softly to himself, began to sing the couplets from the burlesque.
“Are you aware,” she inquired, “that it is half past twelve, and that the people of the house are trying to sleep.”
“True,” said he, desisting. “By the bye, I, too, have had my triumphs this evening. I shared the honors of the concert with Master Lind, who was so delighted that he insisted on bringing me off to the Bijou. He loves you to distraction, poor devil!”
“Yes: you made a nice piece of mischief there. Where is he?”
“Gone away in a rage, swearing never to speak to you again.”
“Hm! And so his name is Lind, is it?”
“Didnt you know?”
“No, or I should have told you when I read the program