The Doctor’s Dilemma · Act II (2/2) (1/2)
Mrs. Dubedat As she enters. Louis will be here presently. He is showing Dr. Blenkinsop how to work the telephone. She sits. Oh, I am so sorry we have to go. It seems such a shame, this beautiful night. And we have enjoyed ourselves so much.
Ridgeon I don’t believe another half-hour would do Mr. Dubedat a bit of harm.
Sir Patrick Come now, Colly, come! come! none of that. You take your man home, Mrs. Dubedat; and get him to bed before eleven.
B.B. Yes, yes. Bed before eleven. Quite right, quite right. Sorry to lose you, my dear lady; but Sir Patrick’s orders are the laws of⁠—er⁠—of Tyre and Sidon.
Walpole Let me take you home in my motor.
Sir Patrick No. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Walpole. Your motor will take Mr. and Mrs. Dubedat to the station, and quite far enough too for an open carriage at night.
Mrs. Dubedat Oh, I am sure the train is best.
Ridgeon Well, Mrs. Dubedat, we have had a most enjoyable evening.
Walpole Most enjoyable.
B.B. Delightful. Charming. Unforgettable.
Mrs. Dubedat With a touch of shy anxiety. What did you think of Louis? Or am I wrong to ask?
Ridgeon Wrong! Why, we are all charmed with him.
Walpole Delighted.
B.B. Most happy to have met him. A privilege, a real privilege.
Sir Patrick Grunts. !
Mrs. Dubedat Quickly. Sir Patrick: are you uneasy about him?
Sir Patrick Discreetly. I admire his drawings greatly, ma’am.
Mrs. Dubedat Yes; but I meant⁠—
Ridgeon You shall go away quite happy. He’s worth saving. He must and shall be saved.
Mrs. Dubedat* rises and gasps with delight, relief, and gratitude. They all rise except Sir Patrick and Schutzmacher*, and come reassuringly to her.
B.B. Certainly, cer-tainly.
Walpole There’s no real difficulty, if only you know what to do.
Mrs. Dubedat Oh, how can I ever thank you! From this night I can begin to be happy at last. You don’t know what I feel.
She sits down in tears. They crowd about her to console her.
B.B. My dear lady: come come! come come! Very persuasively. come come!
Walpole Don’t mind us. Have a good cry.
Ridgeon No: don’t cry. Your husband had better not know that we’ve been talking about him.
Mrs. Dubedat Quickly pulling herself together. No, of course not. Please don’t mind me. What a glorious thing it must be to be a doctor! They laugh. Don’t laugh. You don’t know what you’ve done for me. I never knew until now how deadly afraid I was⁠—how I had come to dread the worst. I never dared let myself know. But now the relief has come: now I know.
Louis Dubedat* comes from the hotel, in his overcoat, his throat wrapped in a shawl. He is a slim young man of 23, physically still a stripling, and pretty, though not effeminate. He has turquoise blue eyes, and a trick of looking you straight in the face with them, which, combined with a frank smile, is very engaging. Although he is all nerves, and very observant and quick of apprehension, he is not in the least shy. He is younger than Jennifer; but he patronizes her as a matter of course. The doctors do not put him out in the least: neither Sir Patrick’s years nor Bloomfield Bonington’s* majesty have the smallest apparent effect on him: he is as natural as a cat: he moves among men as most men move among things, though he is intentionally making himself agreeable to them on this occasion. Like all people who can be depended on to take care of themselves, he is welcome company; and his artist’s power of appealing to the imagination gains him credit for all sorts of qualities and powers, whether he possesses them or not.
Louis Pulling on his gloves behind Ridgeon’s chair. Now, Jinny-Gwinny: the motor has come round.
Ridgeon Why do you let him spoil your beautiful name like that, Mrs. Dubedat?
Mrs. Dubedat Oh, on grand occasions I am Jennifer.
B.B. You are a bachelor: you do not understand these things, Ridgeon. Look at me They look. I also have two names. In moments of domestic worry, I am simple Ralph. When the sun shines in the home, I am Beedle-Deedle-Dumkins. Such is married life! Mr. Dubedat: may I ask you to do me a favor before you go. Will you sign your name to this menu card, under the sketch you have made of me?
Walpole Yes; and mine too, if you will be so good.
Louis Certainly. He sits down and signs the cards.
Mrs. Dubedat Won’t you sign Dr. Schutzmacher’s for him, Louis?
Louis I don’t think Dr. Schutzmacher is pleased with his portrait. I’ll tear it up. He reaches across the table for Schutzmacher’s menu card, and is about to tear it. Schutzmacher makes no sign.
Ridgeon No, no: if Loony doesn’t want it, I do.
Louis I’ll sign it for you with pleasure. He signs and hands it to Ridgeon. I’ve just been making a little note of the river tonight: it will work up into something good. He shows a pocket sketchbook. I think I’ll call it the Silver Danube.
B.B. Ah, charming, charming.
Walpole Very sweet. You’re a nailer at pastel.
Louis coughs, first out of modesty, then from tuberculosis.
Sir Patrick Now then, Mr. Dubedat: you’ve had enough of the night air. Take him home, ma’am.
Mrs. Dubedat Yes. Come, Louis.
Ridgeon Never fear. Never mind. I’ll make that cough all right.
B.B. We will stimulate the phagocytes. With tender effusion, shaking her hand. Good night, Mrs. Dubedat. Good night. Good night.
Walpole If the phagocytes fail, come to me. I’ll put you right.
Louis Good night, Sir Patrick. Happy to have met you.
Sir Patrick ’Night. Half a grunt.
Mrs. Dubedat Good night, Sir Patrick.
Sir Patrick Cover yourself well up. Don’t think your lungs are made of iron because they’re better than his. Good night.
Mrs. Dubedat Thank you. Thank you. Nothing hurts me. Good night.
Louis* goes out through the hotel without noticing Schutzmacher. Mrs. Dubedat hesitates, then bows to him. Schutzmacher rises and bows formally, German fashion. She goes out, attended by Ridgeon*. The rest resume their seats, ruminating or smoking quietly.
B.B. Harmoniously. Dee-lightful couple! Charming woman! Gifted lad! Remarkable talent! Graceful outlines! Perfect evening! Great success! Interesting case! Glorious night! Exquisite scenery! Capital dinner! Stimulating conversation! Restful outing! Good wine! Happy ending! Touching gratitude! Lucky Ridgeon⁠—
Ridgeon Returning. What’s that? Calling me, B.B.? He goes back to his seat next Sir Patrick.
B.B. No, no. Only congratulating you on a most successful evening! Enchanting woman! Thorough breeding! Gentle nature! Refined⁠—
Blenkinsop* comes from the hotel and takes the empty chair next Ridgeon*.
Blenkinsop I’m so sorry to have left you like this, Ridgeon; but it was a telephone message from the police. They’ve found half a milkman at our level crossing with a prescription of mine in its pocket. Where’s Mr. Dubedat?
Ridgeon Gone.
Blenkinsop Rising, very pale. Gone!
Ridgeon Just this moment⁠—
Blenkinsop Perhaps I could overtake him⁠—he rushes into the hotel.
Walpole Calling after him. He’s in the motor, man, miles off. You can⁠—giving it up. No use.
Ridgeon They’re really very nice people. I confess I was afraid the husband would turn out an appalling bounder. But he’s almost as charming in his way as she is in hers. And there’s no mistake about his being a genius. It’s something to have got a case really worth saving. Somebody else will have to go; but at all events it will be easy to find a worse man.
Sir Patrick How do you know?
Ridgeon Come now, Sir Paddy, no growling. Have something more to drink.
Sir Patrick No, thank you.
Walpole Do you see anything wrong with Dubedat, B.B.?
B.B. Oh, a charming young fellow. Besides, after all, what could be wrong with him? Look at him. What could be wrong with him?
Sir Patrick There are two things that can be wrong with any man. One of them is a cheque. The other is a woman. Until you know that a man’s sound on these two points, you know nothing about him.
B.B. Ah, cynic, cynic!
Walpole He’s all right as to the cheque, for a while at all events. He talked to me quite frankly before dinner as to the pressure of money difficulties on an artist. He says he has no vices and is very economical, but that there’s one extravagance he can’t afford and yet can’t resist; and that is dressing his wife prettily. So I said, bang plump out, “Let me lend you twenty pounds, and pay me when your ship comes home.” He was really very nice about it. He took it like a man; and it was a pleasure to see how happy it made him, poor chap.
B.B. Who has listened to Walpole with growing perturbation. But⁠—but⁠—but⁠—when was this, may I ask?
Walpole When I joined you that time down by the river.
B.B. But, my dear Walpole, he had just borrowed ten pounds from me.
Walpole What!
Sir Patrick Grunts. !
B.B. Indulgently. Well, well, it was really hardly borrowing; for he said heaven only knew when he could pay me. I couldn’t refuse. It appears that Mrs. Dubedat has taken a sort of fancy to me⁠—
Walpole Quickly. No: it was to me.
B.B. Certainly not. Your name was never mentioned between us. He is so wrapped up in his work that he has to leave her a good deal alone; and the poor innocent young fellow⁠—he has of course no idea of my position or how busy I am⁠—actually wanted me to call occasionally and talk to her.
Walpole Exactly what he said to me!
B.B. Pooh! Pooh pooh! Really, I must say. Much disturbed, he rises and goes up to the balustrade, contemplating the landscape vexedly.
Walpole Look here, Ridgeon! this is beginning to look serious.
Blenkinsop, very anxious and wretched, but trying to look unconcerned, comes back.
Ridgeon Well, did you catch him?
Blenkinsop No. Excuse my running away like that. He sits down at the foot of the table, next Bloomfeld Bonington’s chair.
Walpole Anything the matter?
Blenkinsop Oh no. A trifle⁠—something ridiculous. It can’t be helped. Never mind.
Ridgeon Was it anything about Dubedat?
Blenkinsop Almost breaking down. I ought to keep it to myself, I know. I can’t tell you, Ridgeon, how ashamed I am of dragging my miserable poverty to your dinner after all your kindness. It’s not that you won’t ask me again; but it’s so humiliating. And I did so look forward to one evening in my dress clothes (They’re still presentable, you see) with all my troubles left behind, just like old times.
Ridgeon But what has happened?
Blenkinsop Oh, nothing. It’s too ridiculous. I had just scraped up four shillings for this little outing; and it cost me one-and-fourpence to get here. Well, Dubedat asked me to lend him half-a-crown to tip the chambermaid of the room his wife left her wraps in, and for the cloakroom. He said he only wanted it for five minutes, as she had his purse. So of course I lent it to him. And he’s forgotten to pay me. I’ve just tuppence to get back with.
Ridgeon Oh, never mind that⁠—
Blenkinsop Stopping him resolutely. No: I know what you’re going to say; but I won’t take it. I’ve never borrowed a penny; and I never will. I’ve nothing left but my friends; and I won’t sell them. If none of you were to be able to meet me without being afraid that my civility was leading up to the loan of five shillings, there would be an end of everything for me. I’ll take your old clothes, Colly, sooner than disgrace you by talking to you in the street in my own; but I won’t borrow money. I’ll train it as far as the twopence will take me; and I’ll tramp the rest.
Walpole You’ll do the whole distance in my motor. They are all greatly relieved; and Walpole hastens to get away from the painful subject by adding. Did he get anything out of you, Mr. Schutzmacher?
Schutzmacher Shakes his head in a most expressive negative.
Walpole You didn’t appreciate his drawing, I think.
Schutzmacher Oh yes I did. I should have liked very much to have kept the sketch and got it autographed.
B.B. But why didn’t you?
Schutzmacher Well, the fact is, when I joined Dubedat after his conversation with Mr. Walpole, he said the Jews were the only people who knew anything about art, and that though he had to put up with your Philistine twaddle, as he called it, it was what I said about the drawings that really pleased him. He also said that his wife was greatly struck with my knowledge, and that she always admired Jews. Then he asked me to advance him fifty pounds on the security of the drawings.
All exclaiming together:
B.B. No, no. Positively! Seriously!
Walpole What! Another fifty!
Blenkinsop Think of that!
Sir Patrick Grunts. !
Schutzmacher Of course I couldn’t lend money to a stranger like that.
B.B. I envy you the power to say No, Mr. Schutzmacher. Of course, I knew I oughtn’t to lend money to a young fellow in that way; but I simply hadn’t the nerve to refuse. I couldn’t very well, you know, could I?
Schutzmacher I don’t understand that. I felt that I couldn’t very well lend it.
Walpole What did he say?
Schutzmacher Well, he made a very uncalled-for remark about a Jew not understanding the feelings of a gentleman. I must say you Gentiles are very hard to please. You say we are no gentlemen when we lend money; and when we refuse to lend it you say just the same. I didn’t mean to behave badly. As I told him, I might have lent it to him if he had been a Jew himself.
Sir Patrick With a grunt. And what did he say to that?
Schutzmacher Oh, he began trying to persuade me that he was one of the chosen people⁠—that his artistic faculty showed it, and that his name was as foreign as my own. He said he didn’t really want fifty pounds; that he was only joking; that all he wanted was a couple of sovereigns.
B.B. No, no, Mr. Schutzmacher. You invented that last touch. Seriously, now?
Schutzmacher No. You can’t improve on Nature in telling stories about gentlemen like Mr. Dubedat.
Blenkinsop You certainly do stand by one another, you chosen people, Mr. Schutzmacher.
Schutzmacher Not at all. Personally, I like Englishmen better than Jews, and always associate with them. That’s only natural, because, as I am a Jew, there’s nothing interesting in a Jew to me, whereas there is always something interesting and foreign in an Englishman. But in money matters it’s quite different. You see, when an Englishman borrows, all he knows or cares is that he wants money; and he’ll sign anything to get it, without in the least understanding it, or intending to carry out the agreement if it turns out badly for him. In fact, he thinks you a cad if you ask him to carry it out under such circumstances. Just like the Merchant of Venice, you know. But if a Jew makes an agreement, he means to keep it and expects you to keep it. If he wants money for a time, he borrows it and knows he must pay it at the end of the time. If he knows he can’t pay, he begs it as a gift.
Ridgeon Come, Loony! do you mean to say that Jews are never rogues and thieves?
Schutzmacher Oh, not at all. But I was not talking of criminals. I was comparing honest Englishmen with honest Jews.
One of the hotel maids, a pretty, fair-haired woman of about 25, comes from the hotel, rather furtively. She accosts Ridgeon.
The Maid I beg your pardon, sir⁠—
Ridgeon Eh?