The Profligate 13

The Profligate 13

[_IRENE and MRS. STONEHAY look at each other._]

 

IRENE.

 

We were driving out to Fiesole--and----

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

The coachman told us we ought to see Michael Angelo’s cartoon.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Oh, of course--delighted--we’re awfully pleased----

 

LESLIE.

 

We didn’t mean that we don’t like showing the--the----

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

What a magnificent view you command here!

 

LESLIE.

 

[_Whispering to DUNSTAN._] Oh, darling, what a muddle!

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Don’t fret about it, sweetheart. I must go and dress for my journey.

You will drive with me to the railway station?

 

LESLIE.

 

No, no. I couldn’t part from you with people standing by. Not that I

mean to cry.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Cry! You must never shed tears. [_He kisses her fondly while the others

are looking at the view._] Why, there’s old Wilfrid asleep. Make him

help you with these Stonehenges.

 

[_He leaves her and she wakes WILFRID._]

 

LESLIE.

 

Will! Will!

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

Eh! What is it? I think I must have dropped off to sleep.

 

LESLIE.

 

We’ve accidentally hurt some people’s feelings. Assist me in being very

nice to them.

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

Yes--but wait a minute. I’m not quite sure--where----

 

[_She drags WILFRID over to MRS. STONEHAY and IRENE._]

 

LESLIE.

 

This is my brother, Wilfrid. [_Quietly to WILFRID._] Rattle on, Will,

dear. Wilfrid, you recollect meeting Miss Stonehay at Helmstead.

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

[_Only half awake, seizing MRS. STONEHAY’S hand._] O yes, I recollect

you perfectly. You left school some time ago, I suppose?

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

Yes--five-and-twenty years ago.

 

LESLIE.

 

Wilfrid! I want some more teacups. And brush your hair. You’ve made it

worse!

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

I’m afraid I am not quite awake.

 

[_He retires, the rest sit at the tea-table._]

 

IRENE.

 

You make me feel quite old, Leslie--to see you so much a woman.

 

LESLIE.

 

I am trying to be a woman, but I don’t get on very quickly.

 

IRENE.

 

Why try?

 

LESLIE.

 

Because I am ashamed that my husband’s wife should be so insignificant.

 

IRENE.

 

You seem very fond of him.

 

LESLIE.

 

Fond of him! Fond is a poor weak word. If I could realize my dearest

desire I would be my husband’s slave.

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

All new wives who have money and many domestic servants say that.

 

LESLIE.

 

Ah, but I would, truly. Do you know what it is to suffer keenly from

over-kindness?

 

IRENE.

 

I thought that was a malady the Faculty had succeeded in stamping out.

 

LESLIE.

 

I suppose it lingers yet in some odd old-world corners; it is within

the crumbling walls of this Villa, for instance. My husband is too

devoted to me. I fear to have a wish because I know he cannot rest till

it is gratified. If I look here, or there, his dear eyes imitate mine;

if I rise, he starts up; if I walk on, he follows me. When he takes my

hand he holds it as if it were a flower with a delicate bloom upon it;

when he speaks to me he lowers his voice like one whispering into some

rare shell that would break from too much sound. And all for one who is

half a school-girl and half a woman, and so little of either.

 

[_A man is heard singing a characteristic Italian air to the

accompaniment of a mandolin._]

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

What’s that?

 

[_LESLIE runs to the balustrade and waves her hand._]

 

LESLIE.

 

That’s Pietro Donigo, one of my husband’s _protégés_. Dunstan wishes

him to sing to me every day.

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

[_Sotto voce._] Good gracious, what next! What is there in this girl to

be sung at!

 

LESLIE.

 

Dun has been very good to Pietro, who is poor, with an old blind

mother. Oh, he is good to everybody--good to everybody!

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

But, my dear Mrs. Renshaw, a wife ought not to be astonished at her

husband’s good-nature in the early days of their marriage. What else

did you expect for the first month?

 

IRENE.

 

Hush, mamma dear; all Leslie means is that she is proud of her

husband’s goodness. What wife would not be?

 

LESLIE.

 

Yes, that is it--I am both proud and humble. Why, look! Directly we

came here he sought out all the poor; in a few days they have learnt

to bless his name, and when I pray for him I think I hear their chant

echoing me. I tell you, sometimes I hide myself away to shed tears of

gratitude, and it’s then that I think a woman’s heart might be broken

less easily by cruelty than by too much kindness!

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

[_To herself._] This girl’s parade of her model husband is

insufferable; it is time I ended it.

 

[_WILFRID returns._]

 

MRS. STONEHAY.

 

By the way, Mrs. Renshaw, I hope that out of your vast contentment you can spare some congratulations for my daughter.