Chapter IV: Act I: In another chair is the FIRST YOUNG MAN. They are smoking after

dinner._

FIRST YOUNG MAN. You say Lord Belvoir shot himself. Was it in this
room?

SECOND YOUNG MAN. It isn’t known whether it was here or in his
bedroom.

FIRST YOUNG MAN. What was the reason?

SECOND YOUNG MAN. There were all sorts of stories about his having
eaten a Popomack and smelling horribly; it was a most mysterious
affair.

FIRST YOUNG MAN. I wonder you care to live here.

SECOND YOUNG MAN. I didn’t intend it. But I had always wanted that
picture. You remember how annoyed I was when we went back to the
gallery and discovered that it had just been bought. Then when I
heard all his things were to be sold I came here to see it, and when
I was here looking at it, I suddenly thought why shouldn’t I buy
everything, and live here myself?

FIRST YOUNG MAN. What a strange idea!

SECOND YOUNG MAN. Not at all. I had always been attracted by what I
had heard of Lord Belvoir, although I had never met him; the very
fact that he had bought that picture seemed to be a link between us,
and the impulse came over me so suddenly and was so strong it was
just as if I was doing something that had always been inevitable.

FIRST YOUNG MAN [_with a shudder_]. I shouldn’t like to live here.
There’s something queer about the place, I should feel it was
haunted.

SECOND YOUNG MAN [_leaning forward_]. It _is_ haunted.

FIRST YOUNG MAN [_startled_]. Good God! What do you mean?

SECOND YOUNG MAN [_in a strange voice_]. I have been trying to
understand what happened to Lord Belvoir, and I often sit at night
looking at that picture, and slowly, as I sit there, I feel that I
am getting very near to what happened. I feel it is all round me,
printed as it were indelibly upon the air, and that it requires only
a very little to make it all suddenly visible. [_In a lower tone._]
That is why I have moved nothing since I came here. Everything is
exactly as it was when he went out for the last time, or stood in
this room and shot himself. And I’ll tell you something more. I
believe I know exactly where he shot himself.

FIRST YOUNG MAN. Good God!

SECOND YOUNG MAN. He came and stood in front of this picture and shot
himself there [_rising and continuing with suppressed excitement_].
He stood just here, do you see? Now why did he do that?

[_He clasps his head and paces up and down._

FIRST YOUNG MAN. But how do you know all this?

SECOND YOUNG MAN [_resuming his seat_]. I suddenly saw it as I sat
looking at that picture. I believe if we look at it long enough and
surrender ourselves to the influence of this place, we shall see all
that happened in this room [_in a whisper_]. Can’t you feel that it
is all here?

FIRST YOUNG MAN [_shivering_]. There’s something strange about this
place.

SECOND YOUNG MAN. It’s Belvoir! He’s here! Everything that passed
through his mind as he stood gazing at that picture before he shot
himself! He lived it all over again that last day, and we shall see
it. Look there! Look! It’s Belvoir.

[_The lights go out and then rise again on the same scene. There is
no one in the room but_ BELVOIR _and he is reading. Presently he
looks at his watch and goes to the telephone._

BELVOIR. Mayfair 2713, yes, please. Hallo! Is that Mayfair 2713? I
want to speak to Miss Raub; will you put me through? Hallo! Is that
you, Muriel?... Yes, the same as usual! What have you been doing
to-day?... Did you enjoy it?... Who was there?... Yes.... Was
Clavelly there?... Oh, did he?... Yes, but I felt nervous, going out
for the first time for weeks. However, it was splendidly arranged.
There was not even a commissionaire at the door. I had the whole
gallery to myself. Nosegay waited downstairs for me. I stayed there
a couple of hours, and looked at all my favourite pictures. The
English loan collection is admirable. There are some beautiful early
Johns. One, a dark gipsyish girl in a blue and yellow spotted frock,
dark blue blouse, and a curious bluish grey hat, lying by a mountain
lake. Extraordinarily rich, but strangely still and reposeful. That
alone was worth the trouble. They’ve got the _Smiling Woman_ in
there and a lot of other good things. I saw the Orpen your father
lent them.... I thought it extremely clever, but unsatisfying,
rather like him. Yes, several water-colours: you know the Cotman I
keep in this room and a couple of others I had sent up from Belvoir.
I suppose you’re going to-morrow to the private view.... Who’s going
with you?... Oh! How is your mother?... No, not one so far. Phaoron
tells me our advertisement for the popomack has been appearing in
the Chinese papers for a good many weeks now, but that’s no reason
to be despondent. There are not likely to be many people alive even
in China who have ever heard of it, and the news that someone is
advertising will only get about slowly ... [_he looks at his
watch_]. It’s just on half-past seven.... Must you? Where are you
dining?... Yes, I’ve met them once, about a year ago.... Good-bye,
darling. You’ve something to say to me! What is it! Tell me now! Oh,
very well, I’ll ring up when you get back. About eleven, will that
do?

[_He rings off, walks about the room for a few minutes, and then
returns to his armchair and takes up the book he was reading.
Presently he seems to have fallen asleep._ [_Enter_ NOSEGAY.

NOSEGAY. There’s a man downstairs, my lord, who says he has come about
an advertisement. Did you expect anyone?

BELVOIR. About an advertisement. It must be about the popomack!
[_Eagerly._] Show him up. Wait a moment. What sort of a man is he?

NOSEGAY. He’s a man of about fifty, my lord, and looks rather like a
sailor.

BELVOIR. Very well, show him up.

[NOSEGAY _goes out and presently returns with_ CAPTAIN ANTHONY, _who
is carrying a large handkerchief which he holds to his nose. He
wears the soft loose clothes of the_ OLD MAN _in Act I, whom he
exactly resembles except that he has a white beard_.

NOSEGAY. Captain Anthony. [_Exit._

BELVOIR [_rising and holding out his hand_]. How do you do? My name is
Belvoir, Lord Belvoir.

ANTHONY. Very pleased to meet you, Lord Belvoir.

BELVOIR. Will you have a cigar? Do you mind helping yourself? They’re
in that box. Take a chair. That’s a comfortable one.

ANTHONY [_takes one_]. Thank you.

BELVOIR. I suppose it was the advertisement in the _Times_ you saw?

ANTHONY. No, I never see the _Times_. I only got in yesterday.

BELVOIR. Then you’ve no doubt come from the East?

ANTHONY. Yes. Shanghai.

BELVOIR. Did you see the advertisement there?

ANTHONY. Well, not exactly, but I heard of it, and as I was coming
home, I found out all the particulars. I thought I might come and
see the person. That advertisement did not say much.

BELVOIR. It said a high price would be paid to anyone who could
procure, or could inform the advertiser how to procure a popomack
fruit. That seems to me quite enough.

ANTHONY. No doubt, no doubt, if it were a matter of ordinary business.
But the popomack is not ordinary business. I am curious to discover
how you came to know anything about it. I am astonished that you
came to eat it.

BELVOIR. Well, there is very little to tell. A friend of mine received
from China, where he has a business house, a popomack, and having
heard how rare a delicacy it was, he invited myself and others to
dinner some three months ago. One other guest beside myself ate this
fruit with the unfortunate result of which you are no doubt
conscious, and we simply want to obtain another popomack. That is
the purpose of our advertisement.

ANTHONY. I see. I suppose you know all about the popomack by now.

BELVOIR. Well, no one seems to know very much about it. Few people in
the world have ever heard of it, and it seems highly probable that
my friend and I are the only people living who have tasted one.

ANTHONY. No, that is not so!

BELVOIR. Ah! then you know where this fruit can be got?

ANTHONY. Do you mind telling me why you want another popomack?

BELVOIR. I am engaged to the daughter of the man who gave that dinner.
When she has eaten it, we are going to get married.

ANTHONY. Twenty years ago, when I was before the mast, I was in a brig
engaged in the island trade of the China sea. We had with us a young
man who had run away from home to be a sailor; his name was
Marjoribanks, but he called himself Marchbanks, same as your name is
Belvoir, but you call it Beaver. We had been driven out of our
course in a storm, and at daybreak one morning we found ourselves
near a small island. As we wanted water we manned a boat and landed
a party who scoured about to find a spring. Presently Marjoribanks
returned with a huge blue fruit which he had found growing. We
decided to cut it and try it, but on opening it there came forth
such a stench that no one could touch it except young Marjoribanks,
who ate the whole thing under our eyes before you could say Jack
Robinson. When the fruit was all gone, however, the stench remained,
and seemed to come from Marjoribanks. We ducked him in the sea, but
still he smelt. We didn’t know what to do with him, it was almost
impossible to go near him, and so we left him on the island.

BELVOIR. You mean to say you left him alone on the island?

ANTHONY. Yes, we sailed away, and for all I know he’s there to this
day.

BELVOIR. Could you find that island again?

ANTHONY. I daresay I could.

BELVOIR. Well, will you take my yacht _Adventuress_, and bring back a
popomack, or as many as you can?

ANTHONY. Well, that’s a proposition; but I dare say I might accept it.
When shall I start?

BELVOIR. O, you can start at once.

ANTHONY. Excellent! Do you know I should rather like to see poor
Marjoribanks again. I have often thought about him.

BELVOIR. Well, I’ll give you a letter to the officer in charge of the
_Adventuress_ at Southampton, he will supply you with all you
require, and when you return wire me and come straight here with the
popomack.

ANTHONY. I will. [_The scene fades. When it becomes visible again_,
BELVOIR _is still in his chair. The door opens, and_ NOSEGAY
_appears_.

NOSEGAY. Captain Anthony has arrived, my lord.

BELVOIR [_excitedly_]. Show him up!

[_The door opens and_ CAPTAIN ANTHONY _enters_.

ANTHONY. I hope you got my wire, sir.

BELVOIR. Yes, have you got it?

ANTHONY. Yes, here it is. [_He takes from a large bag a popomack and
places it on the table._

BELVOIR. I have told Miss Raub; she will be here to eat it in a few
moments, and then, Anthony, we shall be married the day after
to-morrow, and you must come to our wedding.

ANTHONY. I shall be delighted. [_Enter_ NOSEGAY.

NOSEGAY. Miss Raub, my lord.

BELVOIR. Show her up; and, Nosegay, bring a knife and plate.

NOSEGAY. Yes, my lord.

[_Exit. The door opens and_ MURIEL _enters_.

BELVOIR. Muriel! Allow me to introduce you to Captain Anthony.

[_They shake hands, and_ BELVOIR _walks about the room in a state of
great excitement_. MURIEL _is pale and obviously distressed_.

MURIEL [_hesitatingly_]. Reggie!

[_At this moment the door opens and_ NOSEGAY _enters with a knife
and plate which he places on the table. He goes out_. BELVOIR _at
once takes the knife and is about to insert it in the popomack_.

MURIEL [_imploringly_]. Stop, Reggie! I came to tell you. Oh, do
forgive me, but I can’t!

[ANTHONY _creeps out into the shadow_.

BELVOIR [_thunderstruck_]. Muriel! What do you mean?

MURIEL [_clenching her gloved hands_]. I simply can’t do it. I can’t!
I can’t!

BELVOIR [_helplessly_]. But, Muriel, you promised. We’ve been months
waiting for this day. I don’t understand you!

MURIEL. I don’t understand myself.

BELVOIR. But why this sudden change?

MURIEL. It isn’t a sudden change. I’ve known all the time in my heart
that I couldn’t do it, but I’ve been too great a coward to tell you.

BELVOIR. But ... Muriel, don’t you love me?

MURIEL. I’m very fond of you, Reggie, but I can’t marry you.

BELVOIR. Can’t marry me? Muriel darling, you’re frightened, but it’s
nothing. Now just eat this, and all will be well.

MURIEL [_firmly_]. Reggie, it’s no good. I’m not going to marry you.

BELVOIR. I don’t understand. What is the matter? Muriel! [_He moves
towards her to take her in his arms, but she recoils._

MURIEL. Don’t make it harder for me, Reggie!

BELVOIR [_furiously_]. Hard for you, but what about me? Do you expect
me to take any notice of such nonsense. [_He seizes her and kisses
her passionately, but she resists strenuously and at last he lets
her go._

MURIEL. Give me some brandy quick!

[_He rushes to a cupboard and pours out some in a tumbler. She
drinks it._

MURIEL. [_coldly_]. Now will you let me go?

BELVOIR [_imploringly_]. Muriel, what’s the matter with you? Why have
you changed?

MURIEL. I am awfully sorry, Reggie, but I have found that my feelings
are not what I thought they were.

BELVOIR [_scornfully_]. Well, your father was right. He said you’d
never be able to stand me now.

MURIEL. It isn’t that, I assure you.

BELVOIR. Oh, yes, it is.

MURIEL. You’re wrong! Even if I ate the popomack it would make no
difference really!

BELVOIR [_laughing almost hysterically_]. Oh, wouldn’t it? Do you
think the fellow you want to marry would have you then?

MURIEL [_flushing_]. I don’t want to marry anyone.

BELVOIR [_coldly_]. Let me tell you you’re a liar! Don’t you think I
haven’t known this would happen? Here while I have been cooped up
unable to take you about, other men have been seeing you, talking to
you, dancing with you, riding with you! My God, to think what I’ve
suffered! Day after day I have had to sit here absolutely helpless,
knowing that every minute I was losing you, and [_with a change in
tone_] losing you for ever to some worthless bounder who smells of
tobacco instead of popomack!

MURIEL. I am sorry, Reggie, really!

BELVOIR. Are you quite sure you love this one? Do you know anything
about love at all? How long do you think it will last?

MURIEL. I’ve told you before I’m not in love with anyone.

BELVOIR. I believe you. But now and then you want a man, and you’re
not going to take a man who will be a nuisance as I shall be.
Neither are you going to sacrifice the pleasures you’ve been
accustomed to in order to go away and live with him. You haven’t got
it in you to make yourself a new life with me.

MURIEL [_desperately_]. _Will_ you believe me! I am acting on
instinct. Do you think I’d let anything stop me if I loved you?

BELVOIR. But, Muriel, you loved me; I know you loved me.

MURIEL. Perhaps I did. I don’t understand it.

BELVOIR. You’ll find you love me still. It is merely this unfortunate
affair. Everything will come right if you take this [_offering her
the popomack_]. Do, Muriel!

MURIEL. It’s no use, Reggie, I can’t.

BELVOIR. Well, there’s nothing more to be said. I wonder if you know
what you do want.

MURIEL. I don’t think what I want exists.

BELVOIR. No, and if it did, you wouldn’t know it!

MURIEL. But I feel I ought not to do anything that I can resist doing.
Why can’t you make me want you so badly, Reggie, that I should eat
the popomack, or do anything for you?

BELVOIR. Yes; blame me that you don’t love me.

MURIEL. Well, you are to blame. There must be something lacking in
you.

BELVOIR. My God! Why do I love you?

MURIEL. Perhaps you don’t, perhaps you only think you do! [_Holding
out her hand_] Good-bye!

BELVOIR [_speechless_]. Oh ... er—good-bye.

[_She goes immediately._ BELVOIR _stands motionless for a moment and
then walks about the room kicking everything that is light enough to
be kicked painlessly_.] Damnation! [_He rings furiously._ NOSEGAY
_enters_.] Where’s Captain Anthony?

NOSEGAY. I don’t know....

ANTHONY [_emerging from the shadows_]. Here I am.

[NOSEGAY _vanishes_.

BELVOIR [_looking towards the popomack_]. She won’t touch it.
[_Furiously._] She’s got hold of some other man now! She’s a
heartless minx! Her father was right, damn him!

ANTHONY [_ironically_] I thought she’d be a wonder if she took it.

BELVOIR. But she never seemed more desirable! Why did I let her go!
Fool! Why didn’t I force her to eat it? My God! I am an idiot! She
doesn’t know her own mind. Force is what she wants. My God, I am a
fool!

ANTHONY. You can easily do the trick if you want to!

BELVOIR. What’s that you’re saying?

ANTHONY. You can easily get your own back on these folk.

BELVOIR. What do you mean? How?

ANTHONY. Give out that you’re cured by an antidote I’ve brought back
from China. Invite them to a celebration dinner and give them the
popomack disguised in the soup. Then you’ll all be in the same boat,
and she’ll have to have you.

BELVOIR [_staring in astonishment_]. Splendid! My God, you’re a
marvel! What an idea! I’ll fix it up at once. [_He goes to the bell
and rings it._

[NOSEGAY _appears at the doorway. The scene fades. When the lights
go up the table in_ BELVOIR’S _room is laid for a small
dinner-party. The room seems empty. Presently the door opens and_
NOSEGAY _ushers in_ SIR PHILO _and_ LADY PHAORON: SIR PHILO _is in
his diving-dress with helmet and trumpet_.

LADY PHAORON. Thank God he’s discovered an antidote. Now you’ll be
able to get rid of that ridiculous affair, and lead a decent life.

SIR PHILO [_through his trumpet_]. What’s that, you say, my dear?

LADY PHAORON. For God’s sake pull yourself together! You’re not deaf,
yet, are you?

SIR PHILO. No, but your voice reverberates so, my dear, in this
helmet, you have no idea.

LADY PHAORON. I said thank God he’s found an antidote, so that you’ll
be able to walk about like a civilized human being again.

SIR PHILO. Civilized?

LADY PHAORON. You heard quite well what I said.

SIR PHILO. I don’t want to be civilized. You wouldn’t have thought
Thotmes III civilized.

LADY PHAORON. You’re not Thotmes III. You’re a Georgian knight.

SIR PHILO. A what?

LADY PHAORON [_exasperated_]. A Georgian knight, you fool!

SIR PHILO [_shouting_]. What’s a Georgian knight, you fool?

LADY PHAORON. God knows why I married you!

SIR PHILO. God knows what? What does God know?

[LADY PHAORON _gives him up and sits down with a resigned shrug. She
helps herself to one of_ BELVOIR’S _cigars. They sit without
speaking._ SIR PHILO, _who is usually brisk and talkative, is
huddled up in a dejected mass of tubes and gadgets with his trumpet
dangling forlornly upon his breast. Presently the door opens and_
NOSEGAY _ushers in_ SIR SOLOMON _and_ LADY OLIVIA _and_ MURIEL.

SIR SOLOMON. How d’ye do, Lady Phaoron? [_Louder._] Well, Philo, this
is a most fortunate affair. Aren’t you looking forward to getting
out of that rig-out?

[SIR PHILO _shakes hands spiritlessly and mumbles something
unintelligible inside his helmet_.

LADY PHAORON. Of course, he is; it’s a godsend!

SIR PHILO [_shouting through his trumpet_]. I’m sick of God and what
He sends.

LADY PHAORON [_loudly_]. There’s no call for blasphemy. I thought you
couldn’t hear unless one shouted.

SIR PHILO [_shouting_]. I didn’t hear. I guessed.

LADY OLIVIA. I’m sure you must be delighted, Sir Philo. It must have
been awful for you these last three months.

LADY PHAORON. Awful! It’s been positively ghastly! We’ve been nowhere;
we’ve seen no one, and, what with shouting and being shouted at, my
nerves are all in pieces.

SIR PHILO [_to_ LADY OLIVIA]. I’ve had a delightful time, the best
time of my life.

[_Re-enter_ NOSEGAY _with another man-servant carrying soup-tureen_.

NOSEGAY. Will you please to be seated? His lordship has instructed me
to ask you to begin; he has just telephoned and will be here
presently. He was very particular that you should on no account
wait.

SIR SOLOMON [_to_ NOSEGAY _as they seat themselves where indicated_].
Where’s the antidote? Sir Philo Phaoron won’t be able to eat until
he has it.

NOSEGAY [_as he serves the soup_]. I don’t know, sir. Perhaps Lord
Belvoir will bring it with him.

SIR SOLOMON [_who is in a good humour_]. This is excellent soup,
Philo. It has a most delicious flavour. What is it, Nosegay? I’ve
never tasted it before.

NOSEGAY. It’s a new recipe, sir; we’ve never had it before.

SIR SOLOMON. You must get Belvoir to give it to you, Olivia; don’t you
think it’s quite remarkable?

LADY OLIVIA. It is excellent.

[_They all eat the soup except_ SIR PHILO.]

SIR SOLOMON [_shouting jovially to_ SIR PHILO]. Can’t you put one of
those tubes in the soup?

LADY OLIVIA. You’ll soon be able to enjoy a dinner-party again. I’m
surprised you’re not more excited about it. [_The soup is cleared
away._ NOSEGAY _and the waiter go out_.]

SIR PHILO. I think people should eat alone. I don’t know whatever
Belvoir wanted to find an antidote for. I was perfectly happy.

MURIEL. Well, you ask him. Here he is.

[_The door opens and_ BELVOIR _enters_.

BELVOIR. Good evening! How d’ye do, Lady Olivia. [_He shakes hands
with her and_ LADY PHAORON _and bows to_ MURIEL]. I must apologize
for asking you to sit down to dinner without me, but it was
unavoidable.

SIR SOLOMON. Congratulations, Belvoir. It’s a most wonderful bit of
fortune. How did it happen?

BELVOIR. I suppose you all notice that I’ve absolutely recovered.

SIR SOLOMON. Absolutely. [_The rest nod._

BELVOIR. You can ... smell nothing?

SIR SOLOMON. Nothing! It’s wonderful!

BELVOIR. You don’t seem very pleased, Sir Philo.

SIR SOLOMON. You know, I don’t believe he wants to take the antidote;
he likes going about in that fantastic get-up.

LADY PHAORON. Ridiculous! he must take it. Make him take it at once,
Lord Belvoir.

SIR PHILO [_lugubriously_]. If there’s an antidote I suppose I shall
have to take it. There’s no point in going about like this if you
can cure yourself any minute. You’d simply be a fraud, and no one
would take any interest in you.

BELVOIR [_quietly but very distinctly_]. Well, Sir Philo, allow me to
tell you that you are cured already. [_They all gasp in
astonishment._] I mean what I say! Take off that suit, and prove it.
[SIR SOLOMON _helps him off with his helmet_.

LADY PHAORON [_delighted_]. Cured! Oh, how can I thank you, my dear
Lord Belvoir?

[MURIEL, _who has been silently watching, suddenly changes colour,
the truth of the situation bursts upon her_.

MURIEL [_starting forward_]. My God, he’s tricked us!

SIR SOLOMON [_turning white_]. What do you mean?

LADY OLIVIA [_shocked_]. Muriel!

MURIEL. Can’t you see why we can’t smell him, and why we shan’t be
able to smell Sir Philo? He’s given us the popomack in the soup!

SIR SOLOMON. My God!

SIR PHILO [_dancing excitedly, his head bare_]. Hurray! Hurray!

SIR SOLOMON. Shut up, you blithering buffoon! [_To_ BELVOIR, _who is
standing calm but pale_] _Is_ this true?

BELVOIR [_deliberately_]. Yes, every one of us in this room stinks
worse than a skunk, and like the skunk, we alone are unconscious of
it.

LADY PHAORON [_as it slowly dawns on her_]. My God! [_She reels
backward into a chair, half-fainting._

SIR PHILO [_his expression changing from one of extreme joy to one of
disappointment and exasperation_]. What! she smells too now?

BELVOIR [_grimly_]. Yes; you’ll have to get another diving-suit for
her.

SIR PHILO [_beaming, as this new aspect dawns upon him_]. Of course!
Splendid! We’ll never be able to hear each other again!

LADY PHAORON [_blubbering_]. I’ll not wear one of those horrid things!
I think it’s wicked of you, Lord Belvoir, wicked! What have I done
to deserve such treatment? I’d rather die than go about like that.
[_She weeps._

SIR PHILO [_jumping excitedly about_]. Splendid! Splendid! Belvoir,
you’re a marvel! She’s human at last!

SIR SOLOMON [_violently_]. Do stop this idiotic jabber! You’ll drive
me mad! Belvoir, I think you’re a scoundrel!

BELVOIR [_coldly_]. Pardon me. I ate the popomack at your house; you
have now eaten it at mine. That is all.

SIR SOLOMON [_hotly_]. But I did not premeditate it. I acted in
ignorance; it was a pure accident!

BELVOIR. And it is now a pure accident that you have eaten it here.
The accident that Muriel no longer loves me [_pause_]. But I love
her and no one else is going to have her.

MURIEL [_passionately_]. Do you think I’d have anything to do with you
now? I’d rather die!

BELVOIR [_grimly_]. It is easy to say that, but wait until you have
had months of isolation as I have had, months without speaking to
anyone except through a telephone, and then you’ll change your mind.

MURIEL [_gloomily_]. Do you think that matters? Do you think you’ve
got me even if I am forced to live with you because there’s no one
else in all this world to live with? [_She clenches her hands._] No
one else in all this world!

BELVOIR [_bitterly_]. Yes, imagine that yesterday you had the whole
world to live with! What is this wonderful world? A mass of
squirming reptiles walking on their hind legs! There is not a single
man in this universe whom you could put in my place at this moment,
and say truly that you would be prepared to abandon everything for
him. You cannot forgive _me_ this trick, but there is no one, _no
one_ you could forgive, and there never will be!

MURIEL. I hate the sight of you!

BELVOIR. Perhaps I also hate you. I cannot think that love would act
like this. But this way I shall win you, and if I had really loved
you I should have lost you.

MURIEL. O how I hate this talk about love! I don’t want to love, I
want to live!

BELVOIR. Well, you shall live with me.

MURIEL. You will wish you were dead. Yes, perhaps I shall live with
you, a vile, hateful life because neither of us is free, bound to
each other by a hunger as basic as the need for food, yet only a
partial hunger, a hunger in which only a fragment of us takes part,
dragging the rest of us with it. Why couldn’t you let me go, and
wait?

BELVOIR. Wait! I’ve waited for thirty years, and now I should wait for
ever, for I should meet no one. Better have you than nothing.

MURIEL. You are wrong. This way you are not getting me! You are
getting nothing that will satisfy a _man_! You are no better than a
dog or a monkey!

BELVOIR. I am a monkey, an enlarged and more intelligent monkey. We
are all monkeys!

MURIEL [_looking at him steadily_]. Now I know why I couldn’t love
you. I never could understand it, but now I know.

BELVOIR. I suppose you think you are perfect, you think you could fall
in love with nothing less than a god. I am not so ambitious.

MURIEL [_scornfully_]. You! Anyone would do for you. You’d fall into
the first woman’s arms who would take pity on you.

BELVOIR. You underrate yourself. Do you think I would have taken this
trouble for anybody?

MURIEL. Oh, no doubt you have a good taste in clothes.

BELVOIR [_intensely_]. Do you know you are extraordinarily beautiful?

MURIEL. Oh, you’d be a judge of that too!

BELVOIR [_passionately_]. Muriel, I love you. Before your beauty God
would tremble. I cannot live without you.

MURIEL. That is another reason why I do not love you. I can love no
man who wants to find his life in me.

BELVOIR [_gloomily_]. I should find no life in you, but you would be
something.

MURIEL. I don’t want to be something. I want to be everything and
nothing.

SIR SOLOMON [_grimly_]. Well, Belvoir, you’ve got the best of us and
Muriel, too, for she’ll never be able to marry anyone else unless
she does the same as you’ve done, and—[_the idea suddenly striking
him_] why shouldn’t we? Have you any of that popomack left?

BELVOIR [_gloomily_]. I don’t know. I expect so.

SIR SOLOMON [_rubbing his hands_]. But of course, that’s the thing to
do. Why, it will solve all our difficulties. I’ll invite everyone I
know; we’ll have a regular banquet. By God! all my friends and all
my enemies too. There are dozens of people who’d give their souls to
be asked to dinner by us. Well, they shall all come! Ha! ha!

[_He laughs fiendishly._

SIR PHILO [_almost whining_]. And what’ll become of me when everyone’s
eaten the popomack?

[_No one takes any notice of him and he goes on mumbling
disconsolately._

SIR SOLOMON. Well, Muriel, you won’t need to marry our friend Belvoir
after all. You can invite the man you want.

MURIEL. Oh, you are all loathsome! I shall invite no one!

BELVOIR [_to_ SIR SOLOMON]. You seem to take it for granted that I am
going to give you the popomack.

SIR SOLOMON [_craftily_]. Why should you refuse? The more people there
are who have eaten it the better for all of us.

BELVOIR [_uneasily, evidently wrestling with himself_]. And I shall
lose Muriel. I know the craftiness of women. She won’t invite the
man she wants, but he’ll be there, oh yes, he’ll be there! [MURIEL
_says nothing, but throws one profound look at him. He continues,
turning to_ MURIEL] You think I am weak because I need you so badly,
but I tell you you are wrong. I cannot live without your beauty. I
cannot live without _you_, divine spirit that you are. For there is
no one who knows how beautiful you are, no one but me; no one who
will watch you fade day by day upon the air with such passion and
such pity. I want to possess you, for you are me. I want to find
myself, for you are myself. No one will know you; you will go about
the earth unrecognized, but I know you. And because you are
imperishable, and because no man will find you, I will let you go
free.

[_The scene slowly fades. When it is light again_, BELVOIR _is seen
seated in his chair with his book on his knee exactly as he sat down
after speaking on the telephone to_ MURIEL. _His eyes are closed,
but it is impossible to tell whether he is asleep. There is silence.
Presently a clock is heard striking._ BELVOIR _opens his eyes, and,
surprised, gazes round the room. He gets up and walks thoughtfully
across to the bell, which he rings_. NOSEGAY _enters_.

BELVOIR. Has a Captain Anthony been here, Nosegay?

NOSEGAY [_puzzled_]. No one of that name that I know of, my lord.

BELVOIR [_putting his hand to his head_]. Has no one been here, not
Sir Solomon and Miss Raub?

NOSEGAY. No one, my lord. [BELVOIR _walks away thoughtfully_.] Is
there anything else?

BELVOIR. No, very well. [NOSEGAY _goes out_.] Extraordinary! [_He
looks at his watch. He walks to the telephone. He takes off the
receiver eagerly in obvious uneasiness._] Mayfair 2713! Hullo! Is
that Mayfair 2713? I want to speak to Miss Raub, please. Hullo! Is
that you, Muriel, back safely?... Who brought you home?... Tell me
what was it you wanted to say to me? What! You’re going to marry
Clavelly! But, Muriel, you’re engaged to me!... Muriel, I don’t
understand.... [_He drops the receiver and walks into the centre of
the room._] I can do nothing, nothing!... [_He walks about the room,
stands a moment in reflection and then crosses to the bell and rings
it._

[NOSEGAY _enters_.

NOSEGAY [_after standing for a moment_]. You rang for me, my lord.

BELVOIR. Go and buy me a cheap revolver.

NOSEGAY [_surprised_]. But I can’t get one at this hour, my lord.

BELVOIR. What’s that? Oh, of course not! Never mind, in the morning
will do. [NOSEGAY _goes out_. [_The lights fade and go up again on
the two_ YOUNG MEN, _sitting gazing as if in a trance straight
before them_.

SECOND YOUNG MAN [_slowly moving and looking round with a shudder_].
Did you see?

FIRST YOUNG MAN [_whispering_]. Yes. My God! how awful! So that was
how it happened. But did I really see it, or have you been telling
it to me so vividly that I imagined it all happening as you spoke?

SECOND YOUNG MAN. But how did I know it? Did I imagine it? I wonder!

FIRST YOUNG MAN. I don’t understand at the end Belvoir’s waking up and
finding that no Captain Anthony had ever called and that there had
been no dinner-party.

SECOND YOUNG MAN. Well, you see, it’s quite simple. Belvoir had been
advertising for a popomack, and Muriel had promised to take it when
they got it and then marry him; but they have been advertising for
some time without success, and Belvoir has been getting more and
more depressed as he never sees Muriel and he hears of her going
about everywhere with other men, so that when she tells him to ring
her up when she gets back home as she has something important to
say, it makes him at once uneasy and works on his mind
sub-consciously to such an extent that when he falls asleep in his
chair he starts dreaming. When he wakes and discovers it is a dream
and telephones Muriel he finds that his fear that he had lost her,
which was the root of his dream, has proved correct.

FIRST YOUNG MAN. But why did he shoot himself before that picture?

SECOND YOUNG MAN. Do you remember the couple in the gallery that day
we saw that picture?

FIRST YOUNG MAN. I remember there was a couple sitting down.

SECOND YOUNG MAN. Yes, it was Belvoir and Miss Raub, and that picture
had evidently some cherished association for Belvoir.

FIRST YOUNG MAN [_going up to the picture and looking at it_]. I see
there’s a red paper disc stuck in the corner of the glass. I have
often seen it on pictures at shows. What does it mean?

SECOND YOUNG MAN. It means—[_he suddenly bursts into savage laughter,
then stops dead and continues with slow emphasis_] it means _Sold_.

CURTAIN

PRINTED AT THE SHAKESPEARE HEAD PRESS
STRATFORD-UPON-AVON
MACHINE-SET BY ARTHUR HINE
R. J. STEPHENS AND LIONEL TODMAN
THE HAND COMPOSITION BY W. W. DYER
THE PRESSWORK BY J. ROE H. EDMONDS
AND LESLIE LEE

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE BRITISH DRAMA LEAGUE LIBRARY OF MODERN BRITISH DRAMA

Mr Basil Blackwell, as Publisher to the Shakespeare Head Press, of Stratford-upon-Avon, has arranged with the British Drama League to publish a standard Library of new plays, the first four volumes of which are now ready.

Efforts are being made in various directions to improve the conditions of the English Theatre, but no real renaissance of our drama can take place without a new impulse towards the writing of plays. For authors write for an audience, and since, generally speaking and outside a few established reputations, plays cannot succeed in securing the judgment of the public in published form, and the difficulties in the way of their production on the stage are notorious, the Drama is being more and more abandoned as a medium of the literary craft.

The Drama League believes, therefore, that it can perform no more useful function than this of securing publication for the best examples of modern drama that come within its ken. Selections will not be confined to any branch of drama, nor governed by any consideration of a play’s commercial value. Each play to receive the League’s imprimatur will simply be one which seems to the Reading Committee, from whatever point of view, to be, in the first place, worthy of production and, in the second place, of preservation in book form, whether its author’s name is or is not known to the public. It is hoped that the Library will take its place as the recognized representative series of modern British Drama.

_Ask your Bookseller to advise you of all additions to the Library_

Oxford Basil Blackwell
Publisher _to the_ Shakespeare Head Press
_of_ Stratford-_upon_-Avon

The British Drama League Library of Modern British Drama

_The volumes already published of this Series with Authority (every play in which is selected for publication not by the publisher but by the Selection Committee of the League) are the following_:

1. False Premises _By_ LAURENCE HOUSMAN

Five one-act plays for three and four characters

2. The Man who ate the Popomack _By_ W. J. TURNER

A tragi-comedy of love, in four acts

3. Up Stream _By_ CLIFFORD BAX

A drama in three acts

4. Advertising April: or, The Girl who made the Sunshine Jealous _By_
HERBERT FARJEON & HORACE HORSNELL

A comedy in three acts

_Uniform, paper boards, with coloured cover design by_ GABRIEL PIPPET. _3s. 6d. net each_ _A limited and numbered edition (generally of from 50 to 100 copies), on hand-made paper, signed by the Author, in quarter vellum, with the coloured cover design of the series._ _10s. 6d. net each_ _Any of the above may be obtained from your bookseller, who will also, if requested, advise you of the publications of new volumes of the Library. In case of difficulty write to the Publisher_

Oxford Basil Blackwell
Publisher _to the_ Shakespeare Head Press
_of_ Stratford-_upon_-Avon

------------------------------------------------------------------------

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.