LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

natural. Biology is a dry subject for a girl; and I am a pretty dry old codger.[He sits down again resignedly].

      FRANKLYN. Brother: if that is so; if biology as you have worked at it, and religion as I have worked at it, are dry subjects like the old stuff they taught under these names, and we two are dry old codgers, like the old preachers and professors, then the Gospel of the Brothers Barnabas is a delusion. Unless this withered thing religion, and this dry thing science, have come alive in our hands, alive and intensely interesting, we may just as well go out and dig the garden until it is time to dig our graves. [The parlor maid returns. Franklyn is impatient at the interruption]. Well? what is it now?

      THE PARLOR MAID. Mr Joyce Burge on the telephone, sir. He wants to speak to you.

      FRANKLYN [astonished] Mr Joyce Burge!

      THE PARLOR MAID. Yes, sir.

      FRANKLYN [to Conrad] What on earth does this mean? I havnt heard from him nor exchanged a word with him for years. I resigned the chairmanship of the Liberal Association and shook the dust of party politics from my feet before he was Prime Minister in the Coalition. Of course, he dropped me like a hot potato.

      CONRAD. Well, now that the Coalition has chucked him out, and he is only one of the half-dozen leaders of the Opposition, perhaps he wants to pick you up again.

      THE PARLOR MAID [warningly] He is holding the line, sir.

      FRANKLYN. Yes: all right [he hurries out].

       The parlor maid goes to the hearthrug to make up the fire. Conrad rises and strolls to the middle of the room, where he stops and looks quizzically down at her.

      CONRAD. So you have only one life to live, eh?

      THE PARLOR MAID [dropping on her knees in consternation] I meant no offence, sir.

      CONRAD. You didn't give any. But you know you could live a devil of a long life if you really wanted to.

      THE PARLOR MAID [sitting down on her heels] Oh, dont say that, sir. It's so unsettling.

      CONRAD. Why? Have you been thinking about it?

      THE PARLOR MAID. It would never have come into my head if you hadnt put it there, sir. Me and cook had a look at your book.

      CONRAD. What!

      You and cookHad a lookAt my book!

      And my niece wouldn't open it! The prophet is without honor in his own family. Well, what do you think of living for several hundred years? Are you going to have a try for it?

      THE PARLOR MAID. Well, of course youre not in earnest, sir. But it does set one thinking, especially when one is going to be married.

      CONRAD. What has that to do with it? He may live as long as you, you know.

      THE PARLOR MAID. Thats just it, sir. You see, he must take me for better for worse, til death do us part. Do you think he would be so ready to do that, sir, if he thought it might be for several hundred years?

      CONRAD. Thats true. And what about yourself?

      THE PARLOR MAID. Oh, I tell you straight out, sir, I'd never promise to live with the same man as long as that. I wouldnt put up with my own children as long as that. Why, cook figured it out, sir, that when you were only 200, you might marry your own great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson and not even know who he was.

      CONRAD. Well, why not? For all you know, the man you are going to marry may be your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother's great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson.

      THE PARLOR MAID. But do you think it would ever be thought respectable, sir?

      CONRAD. My good girl, all biological necessities have to be made respectable whether we like it or not; so you neednt worry yourself about that.

      Franklyn returns and crosses the room to his chair, but does not sit down. The parlor maid goes out.

      CONRAD. Well, what does Joyce Burge want?

      FRANKLYN. Oh, a silly misunderstanding. I have promised to address a meeting in Middlesborough; and some fool has put it into the papers that I am 'coming to Middlesborough,' without any explanation. Of course, now that we are on the eve of a general election, political people think I am coming there to contest the parliamentary seat. Burge knows that I have a following, and thinks I could get into the House of Commons and head a group there. So he insists on coming to see me. He is staying with some people at Dollis Hill, and can be here in five or ten minutes, he says.

      CONRAD. But didn't you tell him that it's a false alarm?

      FRANKLYN. Of course I did; but he wont believe me.

      CONRAD. Called you a liar, in fact?

      FRANKLYN. No: I wish he had: any sort of plain speaking is better than the nauseous sham good fellowship our democratic public men get up for shop use. He pretends to believe me, and assures me his visit is quite disinterested; but why should he come if he has no axe to grind? These chaps never believe anything they say themselves; and naturally they cannot believe anything anyone else says.

      CONRAD [rising] Well, I shall clear out. It was hard enough to stand the party politicians before the war; but now that they have managed to half kill Europe between them, I cant be civil to them, and I dont see why I should be.

      FRANKLYN. Wait a bit. We have to find out how the world will take our new gospel. [Conrad sits down again.] Party politicians are still unfortunately an important part of the world. Suppose we try it on Joyce Burge.

      CONRAD. How can you? You can tell things only to people who can listen. Joyce Burge has talked so much that he has lost the power of listening. He doesnt listen even in the House of Commons.

      Savvy rushes in breathless, followed by Haslam, who remains timidly just inside the door.

      SAVVY [running to Franklyn] I say! Who do you think has just driven up in a big car?

      FRANKLYN. Mr Joyce Burge, perhaps.

      SAVVY [disappointed] Oh, they know, Bill. Why didnt you tell us he was coming? I have nothing on.

      HASLAM. I'd better go, hadnt I?

      CONRAD. You just wait here, both of you. When you start yawning, Joyce Burge will take the hint, perhaps.

      SAVVY [to Franklyn] May we?

      FRANKLYN. Yes, if you promise to behave yourself.

      SAVVY [making a wry face] That will be a treat, wont it?

      THE PARLOR MAID [entering and announcing] Mr Joyce Burge.

      Haslam hastily moves to the fireplace; and the parlor maid goes out and shuts the door when the visitor has passed in.

      FRANKLYN [hurrying past Savvy to his guest with the false cordiality he has just been denouncing] Oh! Here you are. Delighted to see you. [He shakes Burge's hand, and introduces Savvy] My daughter.

      SAVVY [not daring to approach] Very kind of you to come.

      Joyce Burge stands fast and says nothing; but he screws up his cheeks into a smile at each introduction, and makes his eyes shine in a very winning manner. He is a well-fed man turned fifty, with broad forehead, and grey hair which, his neck being short, falls almost to his collar.

      FRANKLYN. Mr Haslam, our rector.

      Burge conveys an impression of shining like a church window; and Haslam seizes the nearest library chair on the hearth, and swings it round for Burge between the stool and Conrad. He then retires to the window seat at the other side of the room, and is joined by Savvy. They sit there, side by side, hunched up with their elbows on their knees and their chins on their hands, providing Burge with a sort of Stranger's Gallery during the ensuing sitting.

      FRANKLYN. I forget whether you know my brother Conrad. He is a biologist.

      BURGE [suddenly bursting into energetic action and shaking

Скачать книгу