You Never Can Tell · Act III (2/2) (1/3)
Mrs. Clandon* sits at the writing table, correcting proofs. Gloria* is standing at the window, looking out in a tormented revery.
The clock on the mantelpiece strikes five with a sickly clink, the bell being unable to bear up against the black marble cenotaph in which it is immured.
Mrs. Clandon Five! I don’t think we need wait any longer for the children. The are sure to get tea somewhere.
Gloria Wearily. Shall I ring?
Mrs. Clandon Do, my dear. Gloria goes to the hearth and rings. I have finished these proofs at last, thank goodness!
Gloria Strolling listlessly across the room and coming behind her mother’s chair. What proofs?
Mrs. Clandon The new edition of Twentieth Century Women.
Gloria With a bitter smile. There’s a chapter missing.
Mrs. Clandon Beginning to hunt among her proofs. Is there? Surely not.
Gloria I mean an unwritten one. Perhaps I shall write it for you⁠—when I know the end of it. She goes back to the window.
Mrs. Clandon Gloria! More enigmas!
Gloria Oh, no. The same enigma.
Mrs. Clandon Puzzled and rather troubled; after watching her for a moment. My dear.
Gloria Returning. Yes.
Mrs. Clandon You know I never ask questions.
Gloria Kneeling beside her chair. I know, I know. She suddenly throws her arms about her mother and embraces her almost passionately.
Mrs. Clandon Gently, smiling but embarrassed. My dear: you are getting quite sentimental.
Gloria Recoiling. Ah, no, no. Oh, don’t say that. Oh! She rises and turns away with a gesture as if tearing herself.
Mrs. Clandon Mildly. My dear: what is the matter? What⁠—The waiter enters with the tea tray.
Waiter Balmily. This was what you rang for, ma’am, I hope?
Mrs. Clandon Thank you, yes. She turns her chair away from the writing table, and sits down again. Gloria crosses to the hearth and sits crouching there with her face averted.
Waiter Placing the tray temporarily on the centre table. I thought so, ma’am. Curious how the nerves seem to give out in the afternoon without a cup of tea. He fetches the tea table and places it in front of Mrs. Clandon, conversing meanwhile. The young lady and gentleman have just come back, ma’am: they have been out in a boat, ma’am. Very pleasant on a fine afternoon like this⁠—very pleasant and invigorating indeed. He takes the tray from the centre table and puts it on the tea table. Mr. McComas will not come to tea, ma’am: he has gone to call upon Mr. Crampton. He takes a couple of chairs and sets one at each end of the tea table.
Gloria Looking round with an impulse of terror. And the other gentleman?
Waiter Reassuringly, as he unconsciously drops for a moment into the measure of “I’ve been roaming,” which he sang as a boy. Oh, he’s coming, miss, he’s coming. He has been rowing the boat, miss, and has just run down the road to the chemist’s for something to put on the blisters. But he will be here directly, miss⁠—directly. Gloria, in ungovernable apprehension, rises and hurries towards the door.
Mrs. Clandon Half rising. Glo⁠—Gloria* goes out. Mrs. Clandon looks perplexedly at the waiter*, whose composure is unruffled.
Waiter Cheerfully. Anything more, ma’am?
Mrs. Clandon Nothing, thank you.
Waiter Thank you, ma’am. As he withdraws, Phil and Dolly, in the highest spirits, come tearing in. He holds the door open for them; then goes out and closes it.
Dolly Ravenously. Oh, give me some tea. Mrs. Clandon pours out a cup for her. We’ve been out in a boat. Valentine will be here presently.
Philip He is unaccustomed to navigation. Where’s Gloria?
Mrs. Clandon Anxiously, as she pours out his tea. Phil: there is something the matter with Gloria. Has anything happened? Phil* and Dolly* look at one another and stifle a laugh. What is it?
Philip Sitting down on her left. Romeo⁠—
Dolly Sitting down on her right.⁠—and Juliet.
Philip Taking his cup of tea from Mrs. Clandon. Yes, my dear mother: the old, old story. Dolly: don’t take all the milk. He deftly takes the jug from her. Yes: in the spring⁠—
Dolly —a young man’s fancy⁠—
Philip —lightly turns to⁠—thank you to Mrs. Clandon, who has passed the biscuits⁠—thoughts of love. It also occurs in the autumn. The young man in this case is⁠—
Dolly Valentine.
Philip And his fancy has turned to Gloria to the extent of⁠—
Dolly —kissing her⁠—
Philip —on the terrace⁠—
Dolly Correcting him.⁠—on the lips, before everybody.
Mrs. Clandon Incredulously. Phil! Dolly! Are you joking? They shake their heads. Did she allow it?
Philip We waited to see him struck to earth by the lightning of her scorn;⁠—
Dolly —but he wasn’t.
Philip She appeared to like it.
Dolly As far as we could judge. Stopping Phil, who is about to pour out another cup. No: you’ve sworn off two cups.
Mrs. Clandon Much troubled. Children: you must not be here when Mr. Valentine comes. I must speak very seriously to him about this.
Philip To ask him his intentions? What a violation of Twentieth Century principles!
Dolly Quite right, mamma: bring him to book. Make the most of the nineteenth century while it lasts.
Philip Sh! Here he is. Valentine comes in.
Valentine Very sorry to be late for tea, Mrs. Clandon. She takes up the teapot. No, thank you: I never take any. No doubt Miss Dolly and Phil have explained what happened to me.
Philip Momentously rising. Yes, Valentine: we have explained.
Dolly Significantly, also rising. We have explained very thoroughly.
Philip It was our duty. Very seriously. Come, Dolly. He offers Dolly his arm, which she takes. They look sadly at him, and go out gravely, arm in arm. Valentine stares after them, puzzled; then looks at Mrs. Clandon for an explanation.
Mrs. Clandon Rising and leaving the tea table. Will you sit down, Mr. Valentine. I want to speak to you a little, if you will allow me. Valentine* sits down slowly on the ottoman, his conscience presaging a bad quarter of an hour. Mrs. Clandon takes Phil’s* chair, and seats herself deliberately at a convenient distance from him. I must begin by throwing myself somewhat at your consideration. I am going to speak of a subject of which I know very little⁠—perhaps nothing. I mean love.
Valentine Love!
Mrs. Clandon Yes, love. Oh, you need not look so alarmed as that, Mr. Valentine: I am not in love with you.
Valentine Overwhelmed. Oh, really, Mrs.⁠—Recovering himself. I should be only too proud if you were.
Mrs. Clandon Thank you, Mr. Valentine. But I am too old to begin.
Valentine Begin! Have you never⁠—?
Mrs. Clandon Never. My case is a very common one, Mr. Valentine. I married before I was old enough to know what I was doing. As you have seen for yourself, the result was a bitter disappointment for both my husband and myself. So you see, though I am a married woman, I have never been in love; I have never had a love affair; and to be quite frank with you, Mr. Valentine, what I have seen of the love affairs of other people has not led me to regret that deficiency in my experience. Valentine, looking very glum, glances sceptically at her, and says nothing. Her color rises a little; and she adds, with restrained anger, You do not believe me?
Valentine Confused at having his thought read. Oh, why not? Why not?
Mrs. Clandon Let me tell you, Mr. Valentine, that a life devoted to the Cause of Humanity has enthusiasms and passions to offer which far transcend the selfish personal infatuations and sentimentalities of romance. Those are not your enthusiasms and passions, I take it? Valentine, quite aware that she despises him for it, answers in the negative with a melancholy shake of the head. I thought not. Well, I am equally at a disadvantage in discussing those so-called affairs of the heart in which you appear to be an expert.
Valentine Restlessly. What are you driving at, Mrs. Clandon?
Mrs. Clandon I think you know.
Valentine Gloria?
Mrs. Clandon Yes. Gloria.
Valentine Surrendering. Well, yes: I’m in love with Gloria. Interposing as she is about to speak. I know what you’re going to say: I’ve no money.
Mrs. Clandon I care very little about money, Mr. Valentine.
Valentine Then you’re very different to all the other mothers who have interviewed me.
Mrs. Clandon Ah, now we are coming to it, Mr. Valentine. You are an old hand at this. He opens his mouth to protest: she cuts him short with some indignation. Oh, do you think, little as I understand these matters, that I have not common sense enough to know that a man who could make as much way in one interview with such a woman as my daughter, can hardly be a novice!
Valentine I assure you⁠—
Mrs. Clandon Stopping him. I am not blaming you, Mr. Valentine. It is Gloria’s business to take care of herself; and you have a right to amuse yourself as you please. But⁠—
Valentine Protesting. Amuse myself! Oh, Mrs. Clandon!
Mrs. Clandon Relentlessly. On your honor, Mr. Valentine, are you in earnest?
Valentine Desperately. On my honor I am in earnest. She looks searchingly at him. His sense of humor gets the better of him; and he adds quaintly, Only, I always have been in earnest; and yet⁠—here I am, you see!
Mrs. Clandon This is just what I suspected. Severely. Mr. Valentine: you are one of those men who play with women’s affections.
Valentine Well, why not, if the Cause of Humanity is the only thing worth being serious about? However, I understand. Rising and taking his hat with formal politeness. You wish me to discontinue my visits.
Mrs. Clandon No: I am sensible enough to be well aware that Gloria’s best chance of escape from you now is to become better acquainted with you.
Valentine Unaffectedly alarmed. Oh, don’t say that, Mrs. Clandon. You don’t think that, do you?
Mrs. Clandon I have great faith, Mr. Valentine, in the sound training Gloria’s mind has had since she was a child.
Valentine Amazingly relieved. O-oh! Oh, that’s all right. He sits down again and throws his hat flippantly aside with the air of a man who has no longer anything to fear.
Mrs. Clandon Indignant at his assurance. What do you mean?
Valentine Turning confidentially to her. Come: shall I teach you something, Mrs. Clandon?
Mrs. Clandon Stiffly. I am always willing to learn.
Valentine Have you ever studied the subject of gunnery⁠—artillery⁠—cannons and warships and so on?
Mrs. Clandon Has gunnery anything to do with Gloria?
Valentine A great deal⁠—by way of illustration. During this whole century, my dear Mrs. Clandon, the progress of artillery has been a duel between the maker of cannons and the maker of armor plates to keep the cannon balls out. You build a ship proof against the best gun known: somebody makes a better gun and sinks your ship. You build a heavier ship, proof against that gun: somebody makes a heavier gun and sinks you again. And so on. Well, the duel of sex is just like that.
Mrs. Clandon The duel of sex!
Valentine Yes: you’ve heard of the duel of sex, haven’t you? Oh, I forgot: you’ve been in Madeira: the expression has come up since your time. Need I explain it?
Mrs. Clandon Contemptuously. No.
Valentine Of course not. Now what happens in the duel of sex? The old fashioned mother received an old fashioned education to protect her against the wiles of man. Well, you know the result: the old fashioned man got round her. The old fashioned woman resolved to protect her daughter more effectually⁠—to find some armor too strong for the old fashioned man. So she gave her daughter a scientific education⁠—your plan. That was a corker for the old fashioned man: he said it wasn’t fair⁠—unwomanly and all the rest of it. But that didn’t do him any good. So he had to give up his old fashioned plan of attack⁠—you know⁠—going down on his knees and swearing to love, honor and obey, and so on.
Mrs. Clandon Excuse me: that was what the woman swore.
Valentine Was it? Ah, perhaps you’re right⁠—yes: of course it was. Well, what did the man do? Just what the artillery man does⁠—went one better than the woman⁠—educated himself scientifically and beat her at that game just as he had beaten her at the old game. I learnt how to circumvent the Women’s Rights woman before I was twenty-three: it’s all been found out long ago. You see, my methods are thoroughly modern.
Mrs. Clandon With quiet disgust. No doubt.
Valentine But for that very reason there’s one sort of girl against whom they are of no use.
Mrs. Clandon Pray which sort?
Valentine The thoroughly old fashioned girl. If you had brought up Gloria in the old way, it would have taken me eighteen months to get to the point I got to this afternoon in eighteen minutes. Yes, Mrs. Clandon: the Higher Education of Women delivered Gloria into my hands; and it was you who taught her to believe in the Higher Education of Women.
Mrs. Clandon Rising. Mr. Valentine: you are very clever.
Valentine Rising also. Oh, Mrs. Clandon!
Mrs. Clandon And you have taught me nothing. Goodbye.
Valentine Horrified. Goodbye! Oh, mayn’t I see her before I go?
Mrs. Clandon I am afraid she will not return until you have gone Mr. Valentine. She left the room expressly to avoid you.
Valentine Thoughtfully. That’s a good sign. Goodbye. He bows and makes for the door, apparently well satisfied.
Mrs. Clandon Alarmed. Why do you think it a good sign?
Valentine Turning near the door. Because I am mortally afraid of her; and it looks as if she were mortally afraid of me. He turns to go and finds himself face to face with Gloria, who has just entered. She looks steadfastly at him. He stares helplessly at her; then round at Mrs. Clandon; then at Gloria again, completely at a loss.
Gloria White, and controlling herself with difficulty. Mother: is what Dolly told me true?
Mrs. Clandon What did she tell you, dear?
Gloria That you have been speaking about me to this gentleman.
Valentine Murmuring. This gentleman! Oh!
Mrs. Clandon Sharply. Mr. Valentine: can you hold your tongue for a moment? He looks piteously at them; then, with a despairing shrug, goes back to the ottoman and throws his hat on it.
Gloria Confronting her mother, with deep reproach. Mother: what right had you to do it?
Mrs. Clandon I don’t think I have said anything I have no right to say, Gloria.
Valentine Confirming her officiously. Nothing. Nothing whatever. Gloria looks at him with unspeakable indignation. I beg your pardon. He sits down ignominiously on the ottoman.
Gloria I cannot believe that anyone has any right even to think about things that concern me only. She turns away from them to conceal a painful struggle with her emotion.
Mrs. Clandon My dear, if I have wounded your pride⁠—
Gloria Turning on them for a moment. My pride! My pride!! Oh, it’s gone: I have learnt now that I have no strength to be proud of. Turning away again. But if a woman cannot protect herself, no one can protect her. No one has any right to try⁠—not even her mother. I know I have lost your confidence, just as I have lost this man’s respect;⁠—She stops to master a sob.
Valentine Under his breath. This man! Murmuring again. Oh!
Mrs. Clandon In an undertone. Pray be silent, sir.