The Doctor’s Dilemma · Act III (2/2) (1/3)
Mrs. Dubedat Promise.
Louis Putting on a touch of paint with notable skill and care and answering quite perfunctorily. I promise, my darling.
Mrs. Dubedat When you want money, you will always come to me.
Louis But it’s so sordid, dearest. I hate money. I can’t keep always bothering you for money, money, money. That’s what drives me sometimes to ask other people, though I hate doing it.
Mrs. Dubedat It is far better to ask me, dear. It gives people a wrong idea of you.
Louis But I want to spare your little fortune, and raise money on my own work. Don’t be unhappy, love: I can easily earn enough to pay it all back. I shall have a one-man-show next season; and then there will be no more money troubles. Putting down his palette. There! I mustn’t do any more on that until it’s bone-dry; so you may come down.
Mrs. Dubedat Throwing off the drapery as she steps down, and revealing a plain frock of tussore silk. But you have promised, remember, seriously and faithfully, never to borrow again until you have first asked me.
Louis Seriously and faithfully. Embracing her. Ah, my love, how right you are! how much it means to me to have you by me to guard me against living too much in the skies. On my solemn oath, from this moment forth I will never borrow another penny.
Mrs. Dubedat Delighted. Ah, that’s right. Does his wicked worrying wife torment him and drag him down from the clouds? She kisses him. And now, dear, won’t you finish those drawings for Maclean?
Louis Oh, they don’t matter. I’ve got nearly all the money from him in advance.
Mrs. Dubedat But, dearest, that is just the reason why you should finish them. He asked me the other day whether you really intended to finish them.
Louis Confound his impudence! What the devil does he take me for? Now that just destroys all my interest in the beastly job. I’ve a good mind to throw up the commission, and pay him back his money.
Mrs. Dubedat We can’t afford that, dear. You had better finish the drawings and have done with them. I think it is a mistake to accept money in advance.
Louis But how are we to live?
Mrs. Dubedat Well, Louis, it is getting hard enough as it is, now that they are all refusing to pay except on delivery.
Louis Damn those fellows! they think of nothing and care for nothing but their wretched money.
Mrs. Dubedat Still, if they pay us, they ought to have what they pay for.
Louis Coaxing. There now: that’s enough lecturing for today. I’ve promised to be good, haven’t I?
Mrs. Dudebat Putting her arms round his neck. You know that I hate lecturing, and that I don’t for a moment misunderstand you, dear, don’t you?
Louis Fondly. I know. I know. I’m a wretch; and you’re an angel. Oh, if only I were strong enough to work steadily, I’d make my darling’s house a temple, and her shrine a chapel more beautiful than was ever imagined. I can’t pass the shops without wrestling with the temptation to go in and order all the really good things they have for you.
Mrs. Dubedat I want nothing but you, dear. She gives him a caress, to which he responds so passionately that she disengages herself. There! be good now: remember that the doctors are coming this morning. Isn’t it extraordinarily kind of them, Louis, to insist on coming? all of them, to consult about you?
Louis Coolly. Oh, I daresay they think it will be a feather in their cap to cure a rising artist. They wouldn’t come if it didn’t amuse them, anyhow. Someone knocks at the door. I say: it’s not time yet, is it?
Mrs. Dudebat No, not quite yet.
Louis Opening the door and finding Ridgeon there. Hello, Ridgeon. Delighted to see you. Come in.
Mrs. Dudebat Shaking hands. It’s so good of you to come, doctor.
Louis Excuse this place, won’t you? It’s only a studio, you know: there’s no real convenience for living here. But we pig along somehow, thanks to Jennifer.
Mrs. Dubedat Now I’ll run away. Perhaps later on, when you’re finished with Louis, I may come in and hear the verdict. Ridgeon bows rather constrainedly. Would you rather I didn’t?
Ridgeon Not at all. Not at all.
Mrs. Dubedat looks at him, a little puzzled by his formal manner; then goes into the inner room.
Louis Flippantly. I say: don’t look so grave. There’s nothing awful going to happen, is there?
Ridgeon No.
Louis That’s all right. Poor Jennifer has been looking forward to your visit more than you can imagine. She’s taken quite a fancy to you, Ridgeon. The poor girl has nobody to talk to: I’m always painting. Taking up a sketch. There’s a little sketch I made of her yesterday.
Ridgeon She showed it to me a fortnight ago when she first called on me.
Louis Quite unabashed. Oh! did she? Good Lord! how time does fly! I could have sworn I’d only just finished it. It’s hard for her here, seeing me piling up drawings and nothing coming in for them. Of course I shall sell them next year fast enough, after my one-man-show; but while the grass grows the steed starves. I hate to have her coming to me for money, and having none to give her. But what can I do?
Ridgeon I understood that Mrs. Dubedat had some property of her own.
Louis Oh yes, a little; but how could a man with any decency of feeling touch that? Suppose I did, what would she have to live on if I died? I’m not insured: can’t afford the premiums. Picking out another drawing. How do you like that?
Ridgeon Putting it aside. I have not come here today to look at your drawings. I have more serious and pressing business with you.
Louis You want to sound my wretched lung. With impulsive candor. My dear Ridgeon: I’ll be frank with you. What’s the matter in this house isn’t lungs but bills. It doesn’t matter about me; but Jennifer has actually to economize in the matter of food. You’ve made us feel that we can treat you as a friend. Will you lend us a hundred and fifty pounds?
Ridgeon No.
Louis Surprised. Why not?
Ridgeon I am not a rich man; and I want every penny I can spare and more for my researches.
Louis You mean you’d want the money back again.
Ridgeon I presume people sometimes have that in view when they lend money.
Louis After a moment’s reflection. Well, I can manage that for you. I’ll give you a cheque⁠—or see here: there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have your bit too: I’ll give you a cheque for two hundred.
Ridgeon Why not cash the cheque at once without troubling me?
Louis Bless you! they wouldn’t cash it: I’m overdrawn as it is. No: the way to work it is this. I’ll postdate the cheque next October. In October Jennifer’s dividends come in. Well, you present the cheque. It will be returned marked “refer to drawer” or some rubbish of that sort. Then you can take it to Jennifer, and hint that if the cheque isn’t taken up at once I shall be put in prison. She’ll pay you like a shot. You’ll clear fifty pounds; and you’ll do me a real service; for I do want the money very badly, old chap, I assure you.
Ridgeon Staring at him. You see no objection to the transaction; and you anticipate none from me!
Louis Well, what objection can there be? It’s quite safe. I can convince you about the dividends.
Ridgeon I mean on the score of its being⁠—shall I say dishonorable?
Louis Well, of course I shouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t want the money.
Ridgeon Indeed! Well, you will have to find some other means of getting it.
Louis Do you mean that you refuse?
Ridgeon Do I mean⁠—! Letting his indignation loose. Of course I refuse, man. What do you take me for? How dare you make such a proposal to me?
Louis Why not?
Ridgeon Faugh! You would not understand me if I tried to explain. Now, once for all, I will not lend you a farthing. I should be glad to help your wife; but lending you money is no service to her.
Louis Oh well, if you’re in earnest about helping her, I’ll tell you what you might do. You might get your patients to buy some of my things, or to give me a few portrait commissions.
Ridgeon My patients call me in as a physician, not as a commercial traveller.
A knock at the door. Louis goes unconcernedly to open it, pursuing the subject as he goes.
Louis But you must have great influence with them. You must know such lots of things about them⁠—private things that they wouldn’t like to have known. They wouldn’t dare to refuse you.
Ridgeon Exploding. Well, upon my⁠—
Louis* opens the door, and admits Sir Patrick, Sir Ralph, and Walpole*.
Ridgeon Proceeding furiously. Walpole: I’ve been here hardly ten minutes; and already he’s tried to borrow £150 from me. Then he proposed that I should get the money for him by blackmailing his wife; and you’ve just interrupted him in the act of suggesting that I should blackmail my patients into sitting to him for their portraits.
Louis Well, Ridgeon, if this is what you call being an honorable man! I spoke to you in confidence.
Sir Patrick We’re all going to speak to you in confidence, young man.
Walpole Hanging his hat on the only peg left vacant on the hatstand. We shall make ourselves at home for half an hour, Dubedat. Don’t be alarmed: you’re a most fascinating chap; and we love you.
Louis Oh, all right, all right. Sit down⁠—anywhere you can. Take this chair, Sir Patrick indicating the one on the throne. Up‑z‑z‑z! Helping him up: Sir Patrick grunts and enthrones himself. Here you are, B.B. Sir Ralph glares at the familiarity; but Louis, quite undisturbed, puts a big book and a sofa cushion on the dais, on Sir Patrick’s right; and B.B. sits down, under protest. Let me take your hat. *He takes B.B.’s hat unceremoniously, and substitutes it for the cardinal’s hat on the head of the lay figure, thereby ingeniously destroying the dignity of the conclave. He then draws the piano stool from the wall and offers it to Walpole. You don’t mind this, Walpole, do you? Walpole* accepts the stool, and puts his hand into his pocket for his cigarette case. Missing it, he is reminded of his loss.
Walpole By the way, I’ll trouble you for my cigarette case, if you don’t mind?
Louis What cigarette case?
Walpole The gold one I lent you at the Star and Garter.
Louis Surprised. Was that yours?
Walpole Yes.
Louis I’m awfully sorry, old chap. I wondered whose it was. I’m sorry to say this is all that’s left of it. He hitches up his smock; produces a card from his waistcoat pocket; and hands it to Walpole.
Walpole A pawn ticket!
Louis Reassuringly. It’s quite safe: he can’t sell it for a year, you know. I say, my dear Walpole, I am sorry. He places his hand ingenuously on Walpole’s shoulder and looks frankly at him.
Walpole Sinking on the stool with a gasp. Don’t mention it. It adds to your fascination.
Ridgeon Who has been standing near the easel. Before we go any further, you have a debt to pay, Mr. Dubedat.
Louis I have a precious lot of debts to pay, Ridgeon. I’ll fetch you a chair. He makes for the inner door.
Ridgeon Stopping him. You shall not leave the room until you pay it. It’s a small one; and pay it you must and shall. I don’t so much mind your borrowing ten pounds from one of my guests and twenty pounds from the other⁠—
Walpole I walked into it, you know. I offered it.
Ridgeon —they could afford it. But to clean poor Blenkinsop out of his last half-crown was damnable. I intend to give him that half-crown and to be in a position to pledge him my word that you paid it. I’ll have that out of you, at all events.
B.B. Quite right, Ridgeon. Quite right. Come, young man! down with the dust. Pay up.
Louis Oh, you needn’t make such a fuss about it. Of course I’ll pay it. I had no idea the poor fellow was hard up. I’m as shocked as any of you about it. Putting his hand into his pocket. Here you are. Finding his pocket empty. Oh, I say, I haven’t any money on me just at present. Walpole: would you mind lending me half-a-crown just to settle this.
Walpole Lend you half⁠—his voice faints away.
Louis Well, if you don’t, Blenkinsop won’t get it; for I haven’t a rap: you may search my pockets if you like.
Walpole That’s conclusive. He produces half-a-crown.
Louis Passing it to Ridgeon. There! I’m really glad that’s settled: it was the only thing that was on my conscience. Now I hope you’re all satisfied.
Sir Patrick Not quite, Mr. Dubedat. Do you happen to know a young woman named Minnie Tinwell?
Louis Minnie! I should think I do; and Minnie knows me too. She’s a really nice good girl, considering her station. What’s become of her?
Walpole It’s no use bluffing, Dubedat. We’ve seen Minnie’s marriage lines.
Louis Coolly. Indeed? Have you seen Jennifer’s?
Ridgeon Rising in irrepressible rage. Do you dare insinuate that Mrs. Dubedat is living with you without being married to you?
Louis Why not?
Echoing him in various tones of scandalized amazement:
B.B. Why not!
Sir Patrick Why not!
Ridgeon Why not!
Walpole Why not!
Louis Yes, why not? Lots of people do it: just as good people as you. Why don’t you learn to think, instead of bleating and bashing like a lot of sheep when you come up against anything you’re not accustomed to? Contemplating their amazed faces with a chuckle. I say: I should like to draw the lot of you now: you do look jolly foolish. Especially you, Ridgeon. I had you that time, you know.
Ridgeon How, pray?
Louis Well, you set up to appreciate Jennifer, you know. And you despise me, don’t you?
Ridgeon Curtly. I loathe you. He sits down again on the sofa.
Louis Just so. And yet you believe that Jennifer is a bad lot because you think I told you so.
Ridgeon Were you lying?
Louis No; but you were smelling out a scandal instead of keeping your mind clean and wholesome. I can just play with people like you. I only asked you had you seen Jennifer’s marriage lines; and you concluded straight away that she hadn’t got any. You don’t know a lady when you see one.
B.B. Majestically. What do you mean by that, may I ask?
Louis Now, I’m only an immoral artist; but if you’d told me that Jennifer wasn’t married, I’d have had the gentlemanly feeling and artistic instinct to say that she carried her marriage certificate in her face and in her character. But you are all moral men; and Jennifer is only an artist’s wife⁠—probably a model; and morality consists in suspecting other people of not being legally married. Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? Can one of you look me in the face after it?
Walpole It’s very hard to look you in the face, Dubedat; you have such a dazzling cheek. What about Minnie Tinwell, eh?
Louis Minnie Tinwell is a young woman who has had three weeks of glorious happiness in her poor little life, which is more than most girls in her position get, I can tell you. Ask her whether she’d take it back if she could. She’s got her name into history, that girl. My little sketches of her will be bought by collectors at Christie’s. She’ll have a page in my biography. Pretty good, that, for a still-room maid at a seaside hotel, I think. What have you fellows done for her to compare with that?
Ridgeon We haven’t trapped her into a mock marriage and deserted her.
Louis No: you wouldn’t have the pluck. But don’t fuss yourselves. I didn’t desert little Minnie. We spent all our money⁠—
Walpole All her money. Thirty pounds.