THE COLLECTED PLAYS OF W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

      [With a movement of despair.] I really think you loathe me.

      Basil.

      For Heaven's sake, Jenny, let us finish with it. I'm very sorry. I don't wish to be unkind to you. But you must have seen that—that I didn't care for you. What's the good of going on humbugging, and pretending, and making ourselves utterly wretched?

      Jenny.

      Yes, I've seen it. But I wouldn't believe it. When I've put my hand on your shoulder, I've seen that you could hardly help shuddering. And sometimes when I've kissed you, I've seen you put out all your strength to prevent yourself from pushing me away.

      Basil.

      Jenny, I can't help it if I don't love you. I can't help it if I—if I love some one else.

      Jenny.

      [Dazed and cowed.] What are you going to do?

      Basil.

      I'm going away.

      Jenny.

      Where?

      Basil.

      God knows.

      [There is a knock at the door.

      Basil.

      Come in.

      [The Butler enters with a note, which he gives to Basil.

      Butler.

      Mrs. Murray told me to give you this note, Sir.

      Basil.

      [Taking it.] Thank you.

      [He opens and reads it as the Servant goes out of the room, then looks up at Jenny, who is anxiously watching him.

      [Reading.] "You may tell your wife that I've made up my mind to marry Mr. Brackley. I will never see you again."

      Jenny.

      What does she mean?

      Basil.

      [Bitterly.] Isn't it clear? Some one has asked her to marry him, and she means to accept.

      Jenny.

      But you said she loved you.

      [He shrugs his shoulders without answering. Jenny goes up to him imploringly.

      Jenny.

      Oh, Basil, if it's true, give me another chance. She doesn't love you as I love you. I've been selfish and quarrelsome and exacting, but I've always loved you. Oh, don't leave me, Basil. Let me try once more if I can't make you care for me.

      Basil.

      [Looking down, hoarsely.] I'm very sorry. It's too late.

      Jenny.

      [Despairingly.] Oh, God, what shall I do? And even though she's going to marry somebody else, you care for her better than any one else in the world?

      Basil.

      [In a whisper.] Yes.

      Jenny.

      And even if she does marry that other man she'll love you still. There's no room for me between you. I can go away like a discharged servant.... Oh, God! oh, God! what have I done to deserve it?

      Basil.

      [Touched by her utter misery.] I'm very sorry to make you so unhappy.

      Jenny.

      Oh, don't pity me. D'you think I want your pity now?

      Basil.

      You had better come away, Jenny.

      Jenny.

      No. You've told me you don't want me any more. I shall go my own way.

      Basil.

      [Looks at her for a moment, hesitating; then shrugs his shoulders.] Then good-bye.

      [He goes out, and Jenny, looking after him, passes her hand wearily over her forehead.

      Jenny.

      [With a sigh.] He's so glad to go.... [She gives a little sob.] They've got no room for me.

      [She takes up from the floor the photograph on which she stamped, and looks at it; then sinks down, burying her face in her hands, and bursts into a passion of tears.

      END OF THE THIRD ACT.

      THE FOURTH ACT

       Table of Contents

       The Next Morning.

      [The scene is the same as in the Second Act, the drawing-room at Basil's house in Putney. Basil is sitting at the table, with his head in his hands. He looks tired and worn; his face is very white, and there are great black lines under his eyes. His hair is dishevelled. On the table lies a revolver.

      [A knock at the door.

      Basil.

      [Without looking up.] Come in.

      [Fanny enters.]

      Fanny.

      [Subdued and pale.] I came to see if you wanted anything, sir.

      Basil.

      [Looking up at her slowly, his voice is dull and hoarse.] No.

      Fanny.

      Shall I open the windows, Sir? It's a beautiful morning.

      Basil.

      No, I'm cold. Make up the fire.

      Fanny.

      Wouldn't you like a cup of tea? You ought to 'ave something after not going to bed all night.

      Basil.

      I don't want anything.... Don't worry, there's a good woman.

      [Fanny puts coals on the fire, while BASIL listlessly watches her.

      Basil.

      How long is it since you sent the telegrams?

      Fanny.

      I took them the moment the office was opened.

      Basil.

      What's the time?

      Fanny.

      Well, sir, it must be 'alf-past nine by now.

      Basil.

      Good Heavens, how slowly the hours go. I thought the night would never end.... Oh, God, what shall I do?

      Fanny.

      I'll make you a strong cup of tea. If you don't 'ave something to pull you together—I don't know what'll 'appen to you.

      Basil.

      Yes, make it quickly, I'm thirsty.... And I'm so cold.

      [A ring at the front door is heard.

      Basil.

      [Jumping up.] There's some one at the door, Fanny. Hurry up.

      [She goes out, and he follows her to the door of the room.

      Basil.

      Fanny, don't let any one up beside Mr. Halliwell. Say I can see no one. [He waits for a moment, anxiously.] Is that you, John?

      John.

      [Outside.] Yes.

      Basil.

      [To himself.] Thank God!

      [John comes in.

      Basil.