The Greatest Plays of William Somerset Maugham. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

want out of me, and now I can go. The fine lady comes along, and you send me away like a housemaid. D'you think I can't see that you're in love with her? You'd sacrifice me without a thought to save her a moment's unpleasantness. And because you love her you hate me.

      Basil.

      It's not true.

      Jenny.

      Can you deny that you're in love with her?

      Basil.

      You're simply mad. Good heavens, I've done nothing that could give you the least cause to be jealous.

      Jenny.

      [Passionately.] Will you swear that you're not in love with her? Swear it on your honour?

      Basil.

      You're mad.

      Jenny.

      [With growing excitement.] Swear it. You can't. You're simply madly in love with her.

      Basil.

      Nonsense.

      Jenny.

      Swear it. Swear it on your honour. Swear you don't care for her.

      Basil.

      [Shrugging his shoulders.] I swear it ... on my honour.

      Jenny.

      [Scornfully.] It's a lie!... And she's just as much in love with you as you are with her.

      Basil.

      [Seizing her wrists.] What d'you mean?

      Jenny.

      D'you think I haven't got eyes in my head? I saw it that day she came here. D'you suppose she came to see me? She despises me. I'm not a lady. She came here to please you. She was polite to me to please you. She asked me to go and see her to please you.

      Basil.

      [Trying to compose himself.] It's absurd. She was an old friend of mine. Of course she came.

      Jenny.

      I know that sort of friend. D'you think I didn't see the way she looked at you, and how she followed you with her eyes? She simply hung on every word you said. When you smiled, she smiled. When you laughed, she laughed. Oh, I should think she was in love with you; I know what love is, and I felt it. And when she looked at me I know she hated me because I'd robbed her of you.

      Basil.

      [Unable to contain himself.] Oh, what a dog's life it is we lead! We've been both utterly wretched. It can't go on—and I only see one way out.

      Jenny.

      That's what you've been brooding over this last week, is it? Separation! I knew there was something, and I couldn't find out what it was.

      Basil.

      I do my best to hold myself in, but sometimes I feel it's impossible. I shall be led to saying things that we shall both regret. For Heaven's sake let us part.

      Jenny.

      No.

      Basil.

      We can't go on having these awful quarrels. It's too degrading. It was a horrible mistake that we ever married.

      Jenny.

      [Horror-stricken.] Basil!

      Basil.

      Oh, you must see that as well as I. We're utterly unsuited to one another. And the baby's death removed the only necessity that held us together.

      Jenny.

      You talk as if we only remained together because it was convenient.

      Basil.

      [Passionately.] Let me go, Jenny. I can't stand it any more. I feel as if I shall go mad.

      Jenny.

      [Full of pain and anguish.] It's nothing at all to you.

      Basil.

      Jenny, I did my best for you a year ago. I gave you all I had to give. It was little enough in all conscience. Now I ask you to give me back my freedom.

      Jenny.

      [Distracted.] You only think of yourself. What is to become of me?

      Basil.

      You'll be much happier. It's the best thing for both of us. I'll do all I can for you, and you can have your mother and sister to live here.

      Jenny.

      [With a cry of grief and passion.] But I love you, Basil.

      Basil.

      You!! Why, you've tortured me for six months beyond all endurance. You've made all my days a burden to me. You've made my life a perfect hell.

      Jenny.

      [Gives a long groan of horror and dismay.] Oh!

      [They stand facing one another, when the housemaid, Fanny, comes in.

      Fanny.

      Mr. Halliwell.

      [John comes in. Jenny, after taking his hand, sinks down on a chair, paying no attention to the following conversation; she stares in front of her, quite distraught. Basil tries with all his might to appear calm and natural.

      Basil.

      Hulloa, what are you doing in these parts?

      John.

      How d'you do, Mrs. Kent? I've been having an early lunch at Richmond, and I thought I'd just drop in on my way back. As it was Saturday afternoon I thought I might find you.

      Basil.

      I'm sure we're delighted to see you. [John gives a side-glance at Jenny, and slightly raises his eyebrows.] But you've only just come in time, because I've got to go up to town. We might travel up together.

      John.

      Certainly.

      Jenny.

      Where are you going, Basil?

      Basil.

      To Chancery Lane, to see my agent on business.

      Jenny.

      [Suspiciously.] On Saturday afternoon? Why, he won't be there.

      Basil.

      I have an appointment with him.

      [Jenny does not answer, but is obviously unconvinced. John, somewhat embarrassed, exerts himself to make conversation.

      John.

      I was thinking as I came along that one must lead quite an idyllic existence in the suburbs—with the river—and one's little garden.

      Basil.

      [Ironically.] And the spectacle of the fifty little houses opposite all exactly like one another.

      John.

      And the quiet is perfectly enchanting.

      Basil.

      Oh, yes. The only vehicles that disturb the peaceful seclusion are the milk-cart and the barrel-organs. It's quite idyllic.

      Jenny.

      I think it's a very nice neighbourhood. And you get such a superior class of people here.

      Basil.

      I'll just go and change. [Looking at his watch. There's a train at 4.15.

      John.

      All right, hurry up.

      [Basil goes out of the room. Jenny at once springs to her feet and goes towards John. She is distracted and hardly knows what she says.

      Jenny.