The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith Part 20

AGNES. Suddenly, after our interview this afternoon; after what you said--

ST. OLPHERTS. Oh--!

AGNES. [With a little s.h.i.+ver.] An impulse.

ST. OLPHERTS. Impulse doesn't account for the possession of those gorgeous trappings.

AGNES. These rags? A surprise gift from Lucas, today.

ST. OLPHERTS. Really, my dear, I believe I've helped to bring about my own defeat. [Laughing softly.] Ho, ho, ho! How disgusted the Cleeve family will be! Ha, ha! [Testily.] Come, why don't you smile--laugh?

You can afford to do so! Show your pretty white teeth! Laugh!

AGNES. [Hysterically.] Ha, ha, ha! Ha!

ST. OLPHERTS. That's better! [Pus.h.i.+ng the cigarette-box towards him, she takes a cigarette and places it between her lips. He also takes a cigarette gaily. They smoke--she standing, with an elbow resting upon the top of the stove, looking down upon him.]

ST. OLPHERTS. [As he lights his cigarette.] This isn't explosive, I hope? No nitric and sulphuric acid, with glycerine--eh? [Eyeing her wonderingly and admiringly.] By jove! Which is you--the shabby, shapeless rebel who entertained me this afternoon or--[kissing the tips of his fingers to her]--or that?

AGNES. This--this. [Seating herself, slowly and thoughtfully, facing the stove, her back turned to him.] My s.e.x has found me out.

ST. OLPHERTS. Ha! tsch! [Between his teeth.] d.a.m.n it, for your sake I almost wish Lucas was a different sort of feller!

AGNES. [Partly to herself, with intensity.] Nothing matters now--not even that. He's mine. He would have died but for me. I gave him life.

He is my child, my husband, my lover, my bread, my daylight--all-- everything. Mine! Mine!

ST. OLPHERTS. [Rising and limping over to her.] Good luck, my girl.

AGNES. Thanks!

ST. OLPHERTS. I'm rather sorry for you. This sort of triumph is short-lived, you know.

AGNES. [Turning to him.] I know. But I shall fight for every moment that prolongs it. This is my hour.

ST. OLPHERTS. Your hour--?

AGNES. There's only one hour in a woman's life.

ST. OLPHERTS. One--?

AGNES. One supreme hour. Her poor life is like the arch of a crescent; so many years lead up to that hour, so many weary years decline from it. No matter what she may strive for, there is a moment when Circ.u.mstance taps her upon the shoulder and says "Woman, this hour is the best that Earth has to spare you." It may come to her in calm or in temper, lighted by a steady radiance or by the glitter of evil stars; but however it comes, be it good or evil, it is her hour--let her dwell upon every second of it!

ST. OLPHERTS. And this little victory of yours--the possession of this man; you think this is the best that Earth can spare you? [She nods slowly and deliberately, with fixed eyes.] Dear me, how amusin' you women are! And in your dowdy days you had ambitions? [She looks at him suddenly.] They were of a queer, gunpowder-and-f.a.ggot sort--but they were ambitions.

AGNES. [Starting up.] Oh--! [Putting her hands to her brows.] Oh--!

[Facing him.] Yes, yes! You're right! Once, long ago, I hoped that my hour would be very different from this. Ambitions! I have seen myself, standing, humbly-clad, looking down upon a dense, swaying crowd--a scarlet flag for my background. I have seen the responsive look upon thousands of white, eager, hungry faces, and I've heard the great hoa.r.s.e shout of welcome as I have seized my flag and hurried down amongst the people--to be given a place among their leaders! I! With the leaders, the leaders! Yes, that is what I once hoped would be my hour! [Her voice sinking.] But this is my hour.

ST. OLPHERTS. Well, my dear, when it's over, you'll have the satisfaction of counting the departing footsteps of a ruined man.

AGNES. Ruined--!

ST. OLPHERTS. Yes, there's great compensation in that--for women.

AGNES. [Sitting.] Why do you suggest he'll be ruined through me?

[Uneasily.] At any rate, he'd ended his old career before we met.

ST. OLPHERTS. Pardon me; it's not now too late for him to resume that career. The threads are not quite broken yet.

AGNES. Oh, the scandal in London--

ST. OLPHERTS. Would be dispelled by this sham reconciliation with his wife.

AGNES. [Looking at him.] Sham--?

ST. OLPHERTS. Why, of course. All we desired to arrange was that for the future their household should be conducted strictly a la mode.

AGNES. A la mode?

ST. OLPHERTS. [Behind the settee, looking down upon her.] Mr. Cleeve in one quarter of the house, Mrs. Cleeve in another.

AGNES. Oh, yes.

ST. OLPHERTS. A proper aspect to the world, combined with freedom on both sides. It's a more decorous system than the aggressive Free Union you once advocated; and it's much in vogue at my end of town.

AGNES. Your plan was a little more subtle than I gave you credit for.

This was to be your method of getting rid of me!

ST. OLPHERTS. No, no. Don't you understand? With regard to yourself, we could have arrived at a compromise.

AGNES. A compromise?

ST. OLPHERTS. It would have made us quite happy to see you placed upon a--upon a somewhat different footing.

AGNES. What kind of--footing?

ST. OLPHERTS. The suburban villa, the little garden, a couple of discreet servants--everything a la mode.

[There is a brief pause. The she rises and walks across the room, outwardly calm but twisting her hands.]

AGNES. Well, you've had Mr. Cleeve's answer to that.

ST. OLPHERTS. Yes.

AGNES. Which finally disposes of the whole matter--disposes of it--

ST. OLPHERTS. Completely. [Struck by an idea.] Unless you--

AGNES. [Turning to him.] Unless I--

ST. OLPHERTS. Unless you--