The time is the present.
The scene is Sorrento, in Southern Italy.
THE FIRST ACT
SCENE: The terrace of the Hotel Regina Margherita, on the cliff at
Sorrento, overlooking the Bay of Naples.
There is a view of the bay and its semi-circular coast-line, dotted with
villages; Vesuvius gray in the distance. Across the stage at the rear
runs a marble balustrade about three feet high, guarding the edge of the
cliff. Upon the left is seen part of one wing of the hotel, entrance to
which is afforded by wide-open double doors approached by four or five
marble steps with a railing and small stoop. The hotel is of pink and
white stucco, and striped awnings shield the windows. Upon the right is
a lemon grove and shrubberies. There are two or three small white wicker
tea-tables and a number of wicker chairs upon the left, and a square
table laid with white cloth on the right.
As the curtain rises mandolins and guitars are heard, and the
"Fisherman's Song," the time very rapid and gay, the musicians being
unseen.
MARIANO, maître d'hôtel, is discovered laying the table down R.C. with
eggs, coffee, and rolls for two. He is a pleasant-faced, elderly man,
stout, swarthy, clean shaven; wears dress-clothes, white waist-coat, and
black tie. He is annoyed by the music.
MARIANO [calling to the unseen musicians crossly]. Silenzio!
[MICHELE enters from the hotel. He is young, clean-shaven except for a
dark mustache, wears a white tie, a blue coat, cut like dress-coat, blue
trousers with red side stripes, brass buttons; his waistcoat is of
striped red and blue.]
MICHELE [speaking over his shoulder]. Par ici, Monsieur Ribiere, pour le
maître d'hôtel.
[RIBIERE enters from the hotel.]
[MICHELE immediately withdraws.]
[RIBIERE is a trim, business-like young Frenchman of some distinction of
appearance. He wears a well-made English dark "cutaway" walking-suit, a
derby hat, and carries a handsome leather writing-case under his arm.]
RIBIERE. [as he enters]. Ah, Mariano!
MARIANO. [bowing and greeting him gayly]. Monsieur Ribiere! J'espère que
vous êtes--
[He breaks off, turns on his heel toward the invisible musicians, and
shouts.]
Silenzio!
[He turns again quickly to RIBIERE.]
RIBIERE. [with a warning glance toward hotel]. Let us speak English.
There are not so many who understand.
MARIANO. [politely]. I hope Monsieur still occupy the exalt' position of
secretar' to Monseigneur the Grand-Duke.
RIBIERE. [sits and opens writing-case, answers gravely]. We will not
mention the name or rank of my employer.
MARIANO. [with gesture and accent of despair]. Again incognito! Every
year he come to our hotel for two, three day, but always incognito.
[He finishes setting the table.]
We lose the honor to have it known.
RIBIERE. [looking at his watch]. He comes in his automobile from Naples.
Everything is to be as on my employer's former visits--strictly
incognito. It is understood every one shall address him as Herr von
Gröllerhagen--
MARIANO [repeating the name carefully]. Herr von Gröllerhagen--
RIBIERE. He wishes to be thought a German.
[Takes a note-book from case.]
MARIANO. Such a man! of caprice? Excentrique? Ha!
RIBIERE. You have said it. Last night he talked by chance to a singular
North American in the hotel at Napoli. To-day he has that stranger for
companion in the automobile. I remonstrate. What use? He laugh for half
an hour!
MARIANO. He is not like those cousin of his at St. Petersburg an'
Moscowa. An' yet though Monseigneur is so good an' generoso, will not
the anarchist strike against the name of royalty himself? You have not
the fear?
RIBIERE [opening his note-book]. I have. He has _not_. I take what
precaution I can secretly from him. You have few guests?
MARIANO [smiling]. It is so early in the season. Those poor musician'
[nodding off right] they wait always at every gate, to play when they
see any one coming. There is only seex peoples in the 'ole house! All of
one party.
RIBIERE. Good! Who are they?
MARIANO. There is Milor', an English Excellency--the Earl of Hawcastle;
there is his son, the Excellency Honorabile Almeric St. Aubyn; there is
Miladi Creeshe, an English Miladi who is sister-in-law to Milor'
Hawcastle.
RIBIERE [taking notes]. Three English.
MARIANO. There is an American Signorina, Mees Granger-Seempsone. Miladi
Creeshe travel with her to be chaperone. [Enthusiastically.] She is
young, generosa, she give money to every one, she is multa bella, so
pretty, weeth charm--
RIBIERE [puzzled]. You speak now of Lady Creeshe?
MARIANO [taken aback]. Oh no, no, no! Miladi Creeshe is ol' lady
[tapping his ears]. Not hear well. Deaf. No pourboires. Nothing. I speak
of the young American lady, Mees Granger-Seempsone who the English
Honorabile son of Milor' Hawcastle wish to espouse, I think.
RIBIERE. Who else is there?
MARIANO. There is the brother of Mees Granger-Seempsone, a young
gentleman of North America. He make the eyes [laughing] all day at
another lady who is of the party, a French lady, Comtesse de Champigny.
Ha, ha! That amuse' me!
RIBIERE. Why?
MARIANO. Beckoss I think Comtesse de Champigny is a such good friend of
the ol' English Milor' Hawcastle. A maître d'hôtel see many things, an'
I think Milor' Hawcastle and Madame de Champigny have know each other
from long, perhaps. This déjeuner is for them.
RIBIERE. And who else?
MARIANO. It is all.
RIBIERE. Good! no Russians?
MARIANO. I think Milor' Hawcastle and Madame de Champigny have been in
Russia sometime.
RIBIERE [putting his note-book in his pocket]. Why?
MARIANO. Beckoss once I have hear them spik Russian togezzer.
RIBIERE. I think there is small chance that they recognize my employer.
His portrait is little known.
MARIANO. And this North American who come in the automobile--does _he_
know who he travel wiz? Does he know his Highness?
RIBIERE. No more than the baby which is not borned.
MARIANO [lifting his eyes to heaven]. Ah!
RIBIERE [looking at his watch]. Set déjeuner on the terrace instantly
when he arrive: a perch, petit pois, iced figs, tea. I will send his own
caviar and vodka from the supplies I carry.
MARIANO. I set for one?
RIBIERE. For two. He desires that the North American breakfast with him.
Do not forget that the incognito is to be absolute.
[Exit into hotel.]
MARIANO. Va bene, Signore!
[Puts finishing-touches to the table.]
[Enter from the grove, LORD HAWCASTLE. He is a well-preserved man of
fifty-six with close-clipped gray mustache and gray hair; his eyes are
quick and shrewd; his face shows some slight traces of high living; he
carries himself well and his general air is distinguished and high-bred.
He wears a suit of thinly striped white flannel and white shoes, a
four-in-hand tie of pale old-rose crape, a Panama hat with broad ribbon
striped with white and old-rose of the same shade as his tie. His accent
is that of a man of the world, and quite without affectation. He comes
at once upon his entrance to a chair at the table.]
[MICHELE enters at same time up left, with a folded newspaper.]
HAWCASTLE [as he enters]. Good-morning, Mariano!
MARIANO [bowing]. Milor' Hawcastle is serve.
[Takes HAWCASTLE'S hat and places it upon a stool behind table.]
MICHELE [hands HAWCASTLE newspaper from under his arm]. _Il Mattino_,
the morning journal from Napoli, Milor'.
HAWCASTLE [accepting paper and unfolding it]. No English papers?
MICHELE. Milor', the mail is late.
[Exit up left.]
HAWCASTLE [sitting]. And Madame de Champigny?
[MARIANO serves coffee, etc.]
[As HAWCASTLE speaks the COMTESSE DE CHAMPIGNY enters from hotel. She is
a pretty Frenchwoman of thirty-two. She wears a fashionable summer
Parisian morning dress, light and gay in color, a short-sleeved little
Empire jacket, and long gloves. She carries a parasol. Her elaborately
dressed hair is surmounted by a jaunty Parisian toque.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [lifting her hand gayly as she enters, and striking
a little attitude before she descends the steps]. Me voici!
HAWCASTLE [half rising and bowing]. My esteemed relative is still
asleep?
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [speaking gayly, with a very slight accent, as she
crosses to a chair at the table]. I trust your beautiful son has found
much better employment--as our hearts would wish him to.
HAWCASTLE. He has. He's off on a canter with the little American, thank
God!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [interjecting the word]. Bravo!
[She turns the hands of her gloves back and sips coffee, MARIANO
serving.]
HAWCASTLE [continuing]. But I didn't mean Almeric. I meant my august
sister-in-law.
[He reads the paper.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [smiling]. The amiable Lady Victoria Hermione
Trevelyan Creech has déjeuner in her apartment. What you find to read?
HAWCASTLE. I'm such a duffer at Italian, but apparently the people
along the coast are having a scare over an escaped convict--a Russian.
MARIANO [starting slightly, drops a spoon noisily upon a plate on the
table]. Pardon, Milor'!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [setting down her coffee abruptly]. A Russian?
HAWCASTLE [translating with difficulty]. "An escaped Russian bandit has
been traced to Castellamare--"
[Pauses.]
MARIANO [awe-struck]. Castellamare--not twelve kilometres from here!
HAWCASTLE [continuing]. "--and a confidential agent"--[looking
up]--secret-service man, I dare say--"has requested his arrest. But the
brigand tore himself"--[repeating slowly]--"tore himself"--What the
deuce does that mean?
MARIANO [bowing]. Pardon, Milor'--if I might--
HAWCASTLE. Quite right, Mariano!
[Handing him the paper.]
Translate for us.
MARIANO [reading rapidly, but with growing agitation which he tries to
conceal]. "The brigan' tore himself from the hands of the carabiniere
and without the doubts he conceal himself in some of those grotto near
Sorrento and searchment is being execute'. The agent of the Russian
embassy have inform' the bureau that this escaped one is a mos'
in-fay-mose robber and danger brigand."
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [quickly]. What name does the journal say he has?
MARIANO [hurriedly]. It has not to say. That is all. Will Milor' and
Madame la Comtesse excuse me? And may I take the journal? There is one
who should see it.
HAWCASTLE [indifferently]. Very well.
MARIANO. Thank you, Milor'!
[Bows hastily and hurries out up left.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [gravely, drawing back from the table.] I should
like much to know his name.
HAWCASTLE [smiling, and eating composedly]. You may be sure it isn't
Ivanoff.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [not changing her attitude]. How can one know it is
not [pauses and speaks the name very gravely] Ivanoff?
HAWCASTLE [laughing]. He wouldn't be called an infamous brigand.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [very gravely]. That, my friend, may be only Italian
journalism.
HAWCASTLE. Pooh! This means a highwayman--[finishes his coffee
coolly]--not--not an embezzler, Hélène.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [taking a deep breath and sinking back in her chair
with a fixed gaze]. I am glad to believe it, but I care for no more to
eat. I have some foolish feeling of unsafety. It is now two nights that
I dream of him--of Ivanoff--bad dreams for us both, my friend.
HAWCASTLE [laughing]. What rot! It takes more than a dream to bring a
man back from Siberia.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Then I pray there has been no more than dreams.
[Music of mandolins and guitars heard off to the right with song--"The
Fisherman's Song."]
[Enter ETHEL gayly and quickly from the grove, her face radiant. She is
a very pretty American girl of twenty. She wears a light-brown linen
skirted coat, fitting closely, and a country riding-skirt of the same
material and color, with boots, a shirt-waist, collar and tie, and
three-cornered hat. She carries a riding-crop. She is followed by three
musicians (two mandolins and a guitar), who laughingly continue the
song. They are shabby fellows, two of them barefooted, wearing shabby,
patched velveteen trousers and blue flannel shirts open at the throat,
with big black hats, old and shapeless. One makes a low and sweeping bow
before ETHEL; she takes money from her glove and gives it to him, the
other two not discontinuing the song; the three immediately 'bout face
and go out gleefully, capering and still singing.]
HAWCASTLE [who has risen]. The divine Miss Granger-Simpson!
ETHEL [with a pronounced "English accent"]. The divinely happy Miss
Granger-Simpson!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [rising, running to her, and kissing her]. Oh, I
hope you mean--
HAWCASTLE [with some excitement in his voice]. You mean you have made my
son divinely happy?
[ETHEL, as he speaks, extricates herself laughingly from MADAME DE
CHAMPIGNY.]
ETHEL. Is not every one happy in Sorrento--[with a wave of her
riding-crop]--even your son?
[Exit laughingly and hurriedly into the hotel.]
[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY goes to stool behind table and gets her parasol, as
HAWCASTLE resumes his seat.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah! that is good. Listen!
[A piano sounds from the room ETHEL has just entered, breaking loudly
and gayly into Chaminade's "Elevation." ETHEL'S voice is heard for a
moment, also, singing.]
She has flown to her piano. It looks well, indeed--our little
enterprise.
HAWCASTLE [grimly]. It's time. If Almeric had been anything but a clumsy
oof he'd have made her settle it weeks ago!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [quickly]. You are invidious, mon ami! My affair is
not settled--am _I_ a clumsy oof?
HAWCASTLE [leaning toward her across the table and speaking sharply and
earnestly]. No, Hélène. _Your_ little American, brother Horace, is so in
love with you, if you asked him suddenly, "Is this day or night?" he
would answer, "It's Hélène." But he's too shy to speak. You're a
woman--you can't press matters; but Almeric's a man--he can. He can urge
an immediate marriage, which means an immediate settlement, and a direct
one.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [seriously, quickly]. It will not be small, that
settlement?
[He shakes his head grimly, leaning back to look at her. She continues
eagerly.]
You have decide' what sum?
[He nods decidedly.]
What?
HAWCASTLE [sharply, with determination, yet quietly]. A hundred and
fifty thousand pounds!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excited and breathless]. My friend! Will she?
[Turns and stares toward ETHEL'S room, where the piano is still heard
softly playing.]
HAWCASTLE. Not for Almeric, but to be the future Countess of Hawcastle.
My sister-in-law hasn't been her chaperone for a year for nothing. And,
by Jove, she hasn't done it for nothing, either!
[He laughs grimly, moving back from the table.]
But she's deserved all I shall allow her.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [coldly]. Why?
HAWCASTLE [rising]. It was she who found these people. Indeed, we might
say that both you and I owe her something also. [Comes around behind
table to MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY.] Even a less captious respectability than
Lady Creech's might have looked askance at the long friendship [kisses
her hand] which has existed between us. Yet she has always countenanced
us, though she must have guessed--a great many things. And she will help
us to urge an immediate marriage. You know as well as I do that unless
it is immediate, there'll be the devil to pay. Don't miss _that_
essential: something must be done at once. We're at the
breaking-point--if you like the words--a most damnable insolvency.
[Enter ALMERIC from the grove. He is a fair, fresh-colored Englishman of
twenty-five, handsome in a rather vacuous way. He wears white duck
riding-breeches, light-tan leather riding-gaiters and shoes, a
riding-coat of white duck, a waistcoat light tan in shade, and a high
riding-stock, the collar of which is white, the "puffed" tie pink; a
Panama hat with a fold of light tan and white silk round the crown.
Carries a riding-crop.]
ALMERIC [as he enters]. Hello, Governor!
[His voice is habitually loud and his accent somewhat foppish, having a
little of the "Guardsman" affectation of languor and indifference.]
Howdy, Countess!
[He drops into a chair at the breakfast-table with a slight effect of
sprawling.]
HAWCASTLE [sharply]. Almeric!
ALMERIC. Out riding a bit ago, you know, with Miss Granger-Simpson.
Rippin' girl, _isn't_ she?
HAWCASTLE [leaning across the table toward him, anxiously]. Go on!
ALMERIC [continuing, slapping his gaiters carelessly with his crop].
Didn't stop with her, though.
HAWCASTLE [angrily]. Why not?
ALMERIC. A sort of man in the village got me to go look at a
bull-terrier pup. Wonderful little beast for points. Jolly
luck--_wasn't_ it? He's got a _head_ on him--
HAWCASTLE [bitterly]. We'll concede his _tremendous_ advantage over you
in that respect.
[Throws his cigar disgustedly into one of the coffee-cups on the table.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [eagerly]. Is that _all_ you have to tell us?
ALMERIC. Oh no! She accepted me.
[HAWCASTLE drops into a chair with a long breath of relief.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [waving her parasol]. Enfin! Bravo! And will she let
it be soon?
ALMERIC [sincerely]. I dare say there'll be no row about that; I've made
her aw'fly happy.
HAWCASTLE. On my soul, I believe you're right--and thank God you are!
[Rises as he speaks and walks up centre. Breaks off short as he sees
HORACE.]
[Illustration: "OH NO! SHE ACCEPTED ME"]
Here's the brother--attention now!
[HORACE enters the hotel. He is a boyish-looking American of twenty-two,
smooth-shaven. He wears white flannels, the coat double-breasted and
buttoned, the tie is light blue "puffing" fastened with a large pearl.
He wears light-yellow chamois gloves, white shoes, a small, stiff
English straw hat with blue-and-white ribbon. When he speaks it is with
a strong "English accent," which he sometimes forgets. At present he is
flushed and almost overcome with happy emotion. As he comes down the
steps MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY rushes toward him, taking both his hands.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excitedly]. Ah, my dear Horace Granger-Simpson! Has
your sister told you?
HORACE [radiant, but almost tearful]. She has, indeed. I assure you I'm
quite overcome.
[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, dropping his hands, laughs deprecatingly, and
steps back from him.]
Really, I assure you.
HAWCASTLE [shaking hands with him very heartily]. My dear young friend,
not at all, not at all.
HORACE [fanning himself with his hat and wiping his brow]. I assure you
I am, I assure you I am--it's quite overpowering--_isn't_ it?
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah, poor Monsieur Horace!
ALMERIC. I say, don't take it that way, you know. She's very happy.
HORACE [crossing and grasping his hand]. She's worthy of it--she's
worthy of it. I know she is. And when will it be?
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Enchanting.
HAWCASTLE. Oh, the date? I dare say within a year--two years--
[COMTESSE starts to exclaim, but HAWCASTLE checks her.]
HORACE. Oh, but I say, you know! Isn't that putting it jolly far off?
The thing's settled, isn't it? Why not say a month instead of a year?
HAWCASTLE. Oh, if you like, I don't know that there is any real
objection.
HORACE. I do like, indeed. Why not let them marry here in Italy?
HAWCASTLE. Ah, the dashing methods of you Americans! Next you'll be
saying, "Why not here at Sorrento?"
HORACE. Well, and why not, indeed?
HAWCASTLE. And then it will be, "Why not within a fortnight?"
HORACE. And why should it not be in a fortnight?
HAWCASTLE. Ah, you wonderful people, you are whirlwinds, yet I see no
reason why it should not be in a fortnight.
ALMERIC [passively]. Just as you like, Governor, just as you like.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Enchanting.
HAWCASTLE. My son is all impatience!
ALMERIC [genially]. Quite so!
HAWCASTLE [gayly]. Shall we dispose at once of the necessary little
details, the various minor arrangements, the--the settlement?
[Interrupts himself with a friendly laugh.]
Of course, as a man of the world, of _our_ world, you understand there
_are_ formalities in the nature of a settlement.
HORACE [interrupting eagerly and pleasantly, laughing also]. Quite so,
of course, I know, certainly, perfectly!
HAWCASTLE [heartily]. We'll have no difficulty about _that_, my boy.
I'll wire my solicitor immediately, and he'll be here within two days.
If you wish to consult your own solicitor you can cable him.
HORACE [with some embarrassment]. Fact is, I've a notion our
solicitor--Ethel's man of business, that is--from Kokomo, Indiana, where
our Governor lived--in fact, a sort of guardian of hers--may be here
almost any time.
HAWCASTLE [taken aback]. A sort of guardian--_what_ sort?
HORACE [apologetically]. I really can't say. Never saw him that I know
of. You see, we've been on this side so many years, and there's been no
occasion for this fellow to look us up, but he's never opposed anything
Ethel wrote for; he seems to be an easygoing old chap.
HAWCASTLE [anxiously]. But would his consent to your sister's
marriage--or the matter of a settlement--be a necessity?
HORACE [easily]. Oh, I dare say; but if he has the slightest sense of
duty toward my sister, he'll be the first to welcome the alliance, won't
he?
HAWCASTLE [reassured]. Then when my solicitor comes, he and your man can
have an evening over a lot of musty papers and the thing will be done.
Again, my boy [taking HORACE'S hand], I welcome you to our family. God
bless you!
HORACE. I'm overpowered, you know--really overpowered.
[Fans himself again and wipes his forehead.]
HAWCASTLE. Come, Almeric.
[Aside to MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, whom he joins for a moment.]
Let him know it's a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
[Exit into hotel, followed immediately by ALMERIC.]
[HORACE turns toward MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY; she gives him both hands.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [smiling]. My friend, I am happy for you.
HORACE [joyously]. Think of it, at the most a fortnight, and dear old
Ethel will be the Honorable Mrs. St. Aubyn, future Countess of
Hawcastle!
[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, lightly, at the same time withdrawing her hands
and picking up her parasol from the chair where she has left it.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Yes, there is but those little arrangement over the
settlement paper between your advocate and Lord Hawcastle's; but you
Americans--you laugh at such things. You are big, so big, like your
country!
HORACE. Ah, believe me, the great world, the world of yourself,
Countess, has thoroughly alienated me.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [coming close to him, looking at him admiringly].
Ah, you retain one quality! You are big, you are careless, you are
free.
[She lays her right hand on his left arm. He takes her hand with his
right hand. They stand facing each other.]
HORACE [smiling]. Well, perhaps, in _those_ things I am American, but in
others I fancy I should be thought something else, shouldn't I?
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [earnestly]. You are a debonair man of the great
world; and yet you are still American, in that you are ab-om-i-nab-ly
rich. [She laughs sweetly.] The settlement--Such matter as that, over
which a Frenchman, an Italian, an Englishman might hesitate, you laugh!
Such matter as one-hundred-fifty thousand pounds--you set it aside; you
laugh! You say, "Oh yes--take it!"
HORACE [his eyes wide with surprise]. A hundred and fifty thousand
pounds! Why, that's seven hundred and fifty thous--[He pauses, then
finishes decidedly.] She couldn't use the money to better advantage.
[Enter ETHEL from the hotel. She has one thick book under her arm,
another in her hand.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [to HORACE, with deep admiration]. My friend, how
wise you are!
[She perceives ETHEL'S entrance over HORACE'S shoulder, and at once runs
to her, embraces her, and kisses her, crying.]
Largesse, sweet Countess of Hawcastle! Largesse! and au revoir! Adieu! I
leave you with your dear brother. A rivederci.
[She runs gayly out, waving her parasol to them as she goes.]
HORACE [going to ETHEL]. Dear old sis, dear old pal!
[Affectionately gives her hand a squeeze and drops it.]
ETHEL [radiant]. Isn't it glorious, Hoddy!
HORACE. The others are almost as pleased as we are.
[He leans back in chair, knees crossed, hands clasped over knees, and
regards her proudly.]
ETHEL [opens the books she carries, laying them on one of the
tea-tables]. This is Burke's _Peerage_, and this is Froissart's
_Chronicles_. I've been reading it all over again--the St. Aubyns at
Crecy and Agincourt [with an exalted expression], and St. Aubyn will be
_my_ name!
HORACE [smiling]. They want it to be your name _soon_, sis.
ETHEL [suddenly thoughtful, speaks appealingly]. _You're_ fond of
Almeric, aren't you, Hoddy--_you_ admire him, don't you?
HORACE. Certainly. Think of all he represents.
ETHEL [enthusiastically]. Ah, yes! Crusader's blood flows in his veins.
It is to the nobility that _must_ be within him that I have plighted my
troth. I am ready to marry him when they wish.
HORACE. Then as soon as the settlement is arranged. It'll take about all
your share of the estate, sis, but it's worth it--a hundred and fifty
thousand pounds.
ETHEL [earnestly]. What better use could be made of a fortune than to
maintain the state and high condition of so ancient a house?
HORACE. Doesn't it seem impossible that we were born in Indiana!
[He speaks seriously, as if the thing were incredible.]
ETHEL [smiling]. But isn't it good that the pater "made his pile," as
the Americans say, and let us come over here when we were young to find
the nobler things, Hoddy--the _nobler_ things!
HORACE. The nobler things--the nobler things, sis. When old Hawcastle
dies I'll be saying, quite off-hand, you know, "My sister, the Countess
of Hawcastle--"
ETHEL [thoughtfully]. You don't suppose that father's friend, my
guardian, this old Mr. Pike, will be--will be QUEER, do you?
HORACE. Well, the governor himself was rather _raw_, you know. This is
probably a harmless enough old chap--easy to handle--
ETHEL. I wish I knew. I shouldn't like Almeric's family to think we had
queer connections of any sort--and he might turn out to be quite
shockingly American [with genuine pathos]. I--I couldn't bear it, Hoddy.
HORACE. Then keep him out of the way. That's simple enough. None of
them, except the solicitor, need see him.
[Instantly upon this there is a tremendous though distant commotion
beyond the hotel--wild laughter and cheers, the tarantella played by
mandolins and guitars, also sung, shouts of "Bravo Americano!" and
"Yanka Dooda!" The noise continues and increases gradually.]
ETHEL [as the uproar begins]. What is that?
HORACE. Must be a mob.
[LADY CREECH, flustered and hot, enters from the hotel. She is a
haughty, cross-looking woman in the sixties.]
ETHEL [going to LADY CREECH, speaks close to her ear and loudly]. Lady
Creech--dear Lady Creech--what is the trouble?
LADY CREECH. Some horrible people coming to this hotel! They've made a
riot in the village.
[The noise becomes suddenly louder. MARIANO, immediately upon LADY
CREECH'S entrance, appears in hotel doors, makes a quick gesture toward
breakfast-table, and withdraws.]
[MICHELE, laughing, immediately enters by same doors, goes rapidly to
the breakfast-table and clears it. The others pay no attention to this.]
HORACE [at steps up left]. It's not a riot--it's a revolution.
LADY CREECH [sinking into a chair, angrily]. One of your horrid
fellow-countrymen, my dear. Your Americans are really too--
ETHEL [proudly]. Not _my_ Americans, Lady Creech!
HORACE. Not _ours_, you know. One could hardly say that, _could_ one?
ALMERIC [heard outside laughing]. Oh, I say, what a go! [Enters from the
hotel, laughing.] Motor-car breaks down on the way here; one of the
Johnnies in it, a German, discharges the chauffeur; and the other Johnny
[he throws himself sprawling into a chair], one of your Yankee chaps,
Ethel, hires two silly little donkeys, like rabbits, you know, to pull
the machine the rest of the way here. Then as they can't make it, by
Jove, you know, he puts himself in the straps with the donkeys, and
proceeds, attended by the populace. Ha, ha! I say!
[HORACE, gloomy, comes down and sits at tea-table.]
LADY CREECH [angrily, to ALMERIC]. Don't mumble your words, Almeric. I
never understand people when they mumble their words.
[RIBIERE, who looks anxious, appears in the hotel doorway, then stands
aside on the stoop for MARIANO and MICHELE; they enter and pass him with
trays, fresh cloth, etc., for table down right, which they rapidly
proceed to set. A valet de chambre enters up left, following them
immediately. He carries a tray with a silver dish of caviar and a
bottle of vodka. As he enters he hesitates for one moment, looking
inquiringly at RIBIERE, who motions him quickly toward MARIANO and
MICHELE, and withdraws. Valet rapidly crosses right to table, sets
caviar and vodka on the table, and exits up left. The others pay no
attention to any of this.]
ALMERIC. I went up to this Yankee chap, I mean to say--he was pullin'
and tuggin' along, you see, don't you?--and I said, "There you are,
three of you all in a row, _aren't_ you?"--meanin' him and the two
donkeys, Ethel, you see.
LADY CREECH [who has been leaning close to ALMERIC to listen]. Dreadful
person!
ALMERIC [continuing]. All he could answer was that he'd picked the best
company in sight.
ETHEL [annoyed, half under her breath]. Impertinent!
ALMERIC. No meanin' to it. I had him, you know, I rather think, didn't
I?
[HAWCASTLE enters with MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, a number of folded
newspapers under his arm. Simultaneously loud cheers are heard from the
village and a general renewal of the commotion.]
HAWCASTLE. Disgusting uproar!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [to ETHEL]. But we know that such Americans are not
of your class, cherie.
ETHEL. A dreadful person, I quite fear.
HAWCASTLE. The English papers.
[Lays papers on one of the tea-tables.]
ALMERIC. I'll take the _Pink 'Un_, Governor. I'm off.
[Starts to go, the _Pink 'Un_ under his arm.]
ETHEL [rather shyly]. For a stroll, Almeric? Would you like me to go
with you?
ALMERIC [somewhat embarrassed]. Well, I rather thought I'd have a quiet
bit of readin', you know.
ETHEL [coldly]. Oh!
[Exit ALMERIC rapidly up left.]
LADY CREECH [in a deep and gloomy voice]. The _Church Register_!
[HAWCASTLE gives her a paper. HORACE takes the London _Mail_. HAWCASTLE
takes the _Times_.]
[ETHEL and MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY walk back to the terrace railing,
chatting. The others seat themselves about the tea-tables to read.]
HORACE [unfolding his paper, speaks crossly to MARIANO]. Mariano, how
long is this noise to continue?
MARIANO [distractedly]. How can I know? We can do nothing.
MICHELE [smilingly, looking up from table where he has continued to
work]. The people outside will not go while they think there is once
more a chance to see the North American who pull the automobile with
those donkeys.
MARIANO. He have confuse' me; he have confuse' everybody. He will not be
content with the déjeuner till he have the ham and the eggs. And he will
have the eggs cooked only on one side, and how in the name of heaven can
we tell which side?
RIBIERE [appearing in the hotel doorway, speaks sharply but not loudly].
Garçon!
[MICHELE and MARIANO instantly step back from table and stand at
attention, facing front, like soldiers. RIBIERE exits quickly again into
hotel.]
HAWCASTLE [looking up from paper]. Upon my soul, who's all this?
MARIANO [not turning his head, replies in an awed undertone]. It is Herr
von Gröllerhagen, a German gentleman, Milor'.
HAWCASTLE [amused, to HORACE]. Man that owned the automobile. Probably
made a fortune in sausages.
VASILI [heard within the hotel, approaching]. Nein, nein, Ribiere! 'S
macht nichts!
[He enters from the hotel. He is a portly man of forty-five, but rather
soldierly than fat. His hair, pompadour, is reddish blond, beginning to
turn gray, like his mustache and large full beard; the latter somewhat
"Henry IV." and slightly forked at bottom. His dress produces the effect
rather of carelessness than of extreme fashion. He wears a
travelling-suit of gray, neat enough but not freshly pressed, the
trousers showing no crease, the coat cut in "walking-coat style," with
big, slanting pockets, in which he carries his gloves, handkerchief,
matches, and a silver cigarette-case full of Russian cigarettes. On his
head is a tan-colored automobile cap with buttoned flaps. He is followed
by RIBIERE, who, anxious and perturbed, wishes to call his attention to
the item in the Neapolitan morning paper.]
VASILI [waving both RIBIERE and the paper aside, in high good-humor].
Las' mich, las' mich! Geh'n sie weg!
[RIBIERE bows submissively, though with a gesture of protest, and exit
into the hotel. The group about the tea-table watch VASILI with
hostility.]
LADY CREECH. What a dreadful person!
[VASILI crosses to his seat at the breakfast-table in front of MARIANO
and MICHELE, who bows profoundly as he passes.]
VASILI [lifting his hand in curt, semi-military salute, to acknowledge
the waiters' bows]. See to my American friend.
[MICHELE immediately hastens into the hotel. VASILI sits, and MARIANO
serves him.]
HAWCASTLE [to LADY CREECH, in her ear]. Quite right; but take care, he
speaks English.
LADY CREECH [glaring at VASILI]. Many thoroughly objectionable persons
do!
VASILI [apparently oblivious to her remark, to MARIANO]. My American
friend wishes his own national dish.
MARIANO [deferentially, and serving VASILI to caviar]. Yes, Herr von
Gröllerhagen, he will have the eggs on but one of both sides and the
hams fried. So he go to cook it himself.
[Loud shouts and wild laughter from the street. HORACE, ALMERIC, and
LADY CREECH set their papers down in their laps and turn toward the
door.]
MARIANO. Ha! He return from the kitchen with those national dish.
ETHEL [glancing in the doorway]. How horrid!
[MICHELE backs out on the stoop from the doorway laughing, carrying a
platter of ham and eggs.]
MICHELE. He have gone to wash himself at the street fountain.
[Tumult outside reaches its height, the shouts of "Yanka Dooda!"
predominating.]
VASILI [laughing, clapping his hands]. Bravo! Bravo!
ETHEL. Horrible!
[PIKE enters from the hotel. He is a youthful-looking American of about
thirty-five, good-natured, shrewd, humorous, and kindly. His voice has
the homely quality of the Central States, clear, quiet, and strong, with
a very slight drawl at times when the situation strikes him as humorous,
often exhibiting an apologetic character. He does not speak a dialect.
His English is the United States language as spoken by the average
citizen to be met on a daycoach anywhere in the Central States. He is
clean-shaven, and his hair, which shows a slight tendency to gray, is
neatly parted on the left side. His light straw hat is edged with a
strip of ribbon. The hat, like the rest of his apparel, is neither new
nor old. His shirt, "lay-down" collar, and cuffs are of white,
well-laundered linen. He wears a loosely knotted tie. A linen
motor-duster extends to his knees. His waistcoat is of a gray mixture,
neither dark nor light. His trousers are of the same material and not
fashionably cut, yet they fit him well and are neither baggy at the
knees nor "high-water." His shoes are plain black Congress gaiters and
show a "good shine." In brief, he is just the average well-to-do but
untravelled citizen that you might meet on an accommodation train
between Logansport and Kokomo, Indiana. As he enters he is wiping his
face, after his ablutions, with a large towel, his hat pushed far back
on his head. The sleeves of his duster are turned back, and his
detachable cuffs are in his pocket. He comes through the doors rubbing
his face with the towel, but, pausing for a moment on the stoop, drops
the towel from his face to dry his hands. All except VASILI and the
waiters stare at him with frowns of annoyance.]
PIKE [beamingly unconscious of this, surprised, and in a tone of
cheerful apology, believing all the world to be as good-natured and
sensible as Kokomo would be under the circumstances]. Law! I didn't know
there was folks here. I reckon you'll have to excuse me.
[As he speaks he dries his hands quickly.]
Here, son!
[He hands the towel to MICHELE. PIKE rapidly descends the steps, goes to
the breakfast-table, joining VASILI and taking the seat opposite him.]
VASILI [gayly]. You're a true patriot, my friend. You allow no profane
hand to cook your national dish. I trust you will be as successful with
that wicked motor of mine.
PIKE [chuckling]. Lord bless your soul, I've put a self-binder together
after a pony-engine had butted it half-way through a brick deepoe!
[Tucks his napkin in collar of his waistcoat and applies himself to the
meal.]
[HORACE and HAWCASTLE read their papers, now and then casting glances of
great annoyance at PIKE.]
[LADY CREECH lets her periodical rest in her lap, and without any
abating or concealment, fixes PIKE with a basilisk glare which
continues. He is unconscious of all this, his back being three-quarters
to their group.]
VASILI [no pause]. You have studied mechanics at the University?
PIKE [smiling]. University? Law, no! On the old man's farm.
[VASILI nods gravely.]
HAWCASTLE [blandly, to HORACE]. Without any disrespect to you, my dear
fellow, what terrific bounders most of your fellow-countrymen are!
HORACE [greatly irritated]. Do you wonder sis and I have emancipated
ourselves?
HAWCASTLE. Not at all, my dear lad.
VASILI [to PIKE]. Can I persuade you to accept a little of one of my own
national dishes--caviar?
PIKE. Caviar? I've heard of it. I thought it was Rooshian.
VASILI [disturbed, but instantly recovering, himself]. It is German,
also. Will you not?
[He motions MARIANO to serve PIKE. MARIANO places a spoonful of caviar
on a silver dish at PIKE'S right.]
PIKE. I expect I'd never get to the legislature again if the boys heard
about it. Still, I reckon I'm far enough from home to take a _few_
risks.
[He loads a fork with caviar, and with a smile places it in his mouth.
The smile slowly fades, his face becomes thoughtful, then grave; he
slowly sets the fork upon his plate, his eyes turn toward VASILI with a
look both puzzled and plaintive, his mouth firmly closed, his jaw moving
slightly.]
VASILI. I fear you do not like it. A few swallows of vodka will take
away the taste.
[Gives him a glass, which PIKE accepts, drinking a mouthful in haste,
VASILI watching him, sincerely concerned and troubled. PIKE swallows the
vodka, quietly sets the glass down on the table, his eyelids begin to
flutter, he bends a look of suffering and distrust upon VASILI, slowly
rises and closes his eyes, then slowly sits and opens them. Gradually a
faint, distrustful smile appears on his face.]
PIKE [in the voice of a convalescent]. I never had any business to leave
Indiana!
VASILI. I am sorry, my friend.
[PIKE takes another large forkful of caviar.]
VASILI [observing this]. But I thought you did not like the caviar?
PIKE. It's to take away the taste of the vodka.
VASILI [laughing]. I lift my hat to you.
PIKE. You never worked on a farm in your own country, Doc?
VASILI. That has been denied me.
PIKE. I expect so. Talk about things to drink! Harvest-time, and the
women folks coming out from the house with a two-gallon jug of ice-cold
buttermilk!
[Sets down the glass and whistles softly with delight.]
[HORACE shows increasing signs of annoyance.]
VASILI. You still enjoy those delights?
PIKE. Not since I moved up to our county-seat ten years ago and began to
practice law. Things don't taste the same in the city.
VASILI. You do not like your city?
PIKE [not with braggadocio, but earnestly, almost pathetically]. Like
it? Well, sir, for public buildings and architecture, I wouldn't trade
our State insane asylum for the worst-ruined ruin in Europe--not for
hygiene and real comfort.
VASILI. And your people?
PIKE. The best on earth. Out _my_ way folks are neighbors.
[HORACE snaps his paper sharply.]
VASILI. But you have no leisure class.
[VASILI is looking keenly at HAWCASTLE and HORACE as he speaks.]
PIKE. Got a pretty good-sized colored population.
VASILI. I mean no aristocracy--no great old families such as we have,
that go back and back to the Middle Ages.
PIKE [genially]. Well, I expect if they go back that far they might just
as well set down and stay there. No, sir, the poor in my country don't
have to pay taxes for a lot of useless kings and earls and first grooms
of the bedchamber and second ladies in waiting, and I don't know what
all. If anybody wants _our_ money for nothin' he has to show energy
enough to steal it. I wonder a man like you doesn't emigrate.
VASILI. Bravo!
HAWCASTLE [to HORACE]. Your countryman seems to be rather down on us!
HORACE. This fellow is distinctly of the lower orders. We should cut him
as completely in the States as here.
VASILI. I wonder you make this long journey, my friend, instead of to
spend your holiday at home.
PIKE. Holiday! Why, _I_ never had time even to go to Niagara Falls!
VASILI [to MARIANO]. Finito!
[Sets his napkin carelessly on table and lights a Russian cigarette.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. What is it he does with his serviette?
PIKE [moving his chair back from the table slightly, and folding his
napkin]. No, _sir_, you wouldn't catch me puttin' in any time in these
old kingdoms unless I had to.
LADY CREECH [loudly, to HAWCASTLE]. Hawcastle, can you tell me how much
longer these persons intend to remain here listening to our
conversation?
[PIKE half turns to LADY CREECH, innocently puzzled.]
HAWCASTLE. Oh, it isn't that; but it's somewhat annoying not to be
allowed to read one's paper in peace.
HORACE. Quite beastly annoying!
LADY CREECH. I had a distinct impression that the management had
reserved this terrace for our party.
VASILI [quietly]. I fear we have disturbed these good people.
PIKE [in wonder]. Do you think they're hinting at us?
VASILI. I fear so.
PIKE [gently and with sincere amazement]. Why, _we_ haven't done
anything to 'em.
VASILI. No, my friend.
PIKE [smiling]. Well, I guess there ain't any bones broken.
HORACE [throws down paper angrily on tea-table]. I can't stand this. I
shall go for a stroll.
PIKE [rising]. I expect it's about time for me to go and find the two
young folks I've come to look after.
VASILI. You are here for a duty, then?
PIKE [with gravity, yet smiling faintly]. I shouldn't be surprised if
that was the name for it. Yes, sir, all the way from Indiana.
[ETHEL utters a low cry of fear.]
[HORACE, having secured his hat, is just rising to go, drops back into
his chair with a stifled exclamation of dismay.]
[HAWCASTLE lays his paper flat on table. All this instantaneous.]
HAWCASTLE. By Jove!
[They all stare at PIKE.]
PIKE [continuing]. I expect, prob'ly, Doc, I won't be able to eat with
you this evening. You see--[he pauses, somewhat embarrassed]--you see,
I've come a mighty long ways to look after her, and she, prob'ly--that
is, _they'll_ prob'ly want me to have supper with _them_.
[The latter part of this speech is spoken rather breathlessly, though
not rapidly, and almost tremulously, and with a growing smile that is
like a confession.]
VASILI. Do not trouble for me. Your young people, they have a villa?
PIKE. No; they're right here in this hotel.
HORACE. I must get away!
[He says this huskily, almost in a whisper, as if to himself. His face
is tense with anxiety.]
VASILI [with a gesture of dismissal, though graciously]. Seek them. I
finish my cigarette.
PIKE. Guess I better ask.
[HORACE is crossing, meaning to get away through the grove.]
PIKE [addressing him]. Hey, there! Can you--
[HORACE, proceeding, pays no attention.]
PIKE [lifting his voice]. Excuse me, son, ain't you an American?
[More decidedly, to MARIANO.]
Waiter, tell that gentleman I'm speaking to him.
MARIANO [to HORACE]. M'sieu', that gentleman speak with you.
HORACE [agitated and angry]. What gentleman?
[MARIANO bows toward PIKE.]
PIKE [at same time genially]. I thought from your looks you must be an
American.
HORACE [turning haughtily]. Are you speaking to _me_?
PIKE [good-humoredly]. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. Ain't you an
American?
HORACE. I happen to have been born in the States.
PIKE [amiably]. Well, that _was_ luck!
HORACE [turning as if to go]. Will you kindly excuse me?
PIKE. Hold on a minute! I'm looking for some Americans here, and I
expect you know 'em--boy and girl named Simpson.
HORACE. Is there any possibility that you mean Granger-Simpson?
[His tone is both alarmed and truculent.]
PIKE [much pleased]. No, sir; just plain Simpson. Granger's their middle
name. That's for old Jed Granger, grandfather on their ma's side.
[He pronounces "ma" with the broad Hoosier accent--"maw."]
I want to see 'em both, but it's the girl I'm rilly looking for.
HORACE [trembling, but speaking even more haughtily]. Will you be good
enough to state any possible reason why Miss Granger-Simpson should see
you?
PIKE [in profound surprise, yet mildly]. Reason--why, yes--I'm her
guardian.
[ETHEL lifts her hand to her forehead as if dizzy. MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY
puts an arm around her. ETHEL recovers herself and stands rigidly,
staring at PIKE.]
HORACE [staggered]. What!
PIKE [smiling]. Yes, sir, Daniel Voorhees Pike, attorney at law, Kokomo,
Indiana.
[HORACE falls back from him in horror.]
[HAWCASTLE, excited but cool, makes a quick, imperative gesture to LADY
CREECH, who majestically sweeps up to ETHEL, kisses her on the forehead
in lofty pity, and sweeps out.]
[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY kisses ETHEL compassionately on cheek and follows
LADY CREECH off.]
[MARIANO and MICHELE, having cleared the table, exeunt.]
HORACE [hoarse with shame, to PIKE; slight pause after PIKE'S last
speech.] I shall ask her if she will consent to an interview.
PIKE [at same time, astounded]. "Consent to an interview"? Why, I want
to _talk_ to her!
HAWCASTLE [quickly and earnestly to ETHEL]. This shall make no
difference to _us_, my child. Speak to him at once.
[Exit into the hotel.]
PIKE [to HORACE]. Don't you understand? I'm her _guardian_.
HORACE [with a desperate gesture]. I shall never hold up my head again!
[Rushes off.]
VASILI [gravely, to PIKE]. When you have finished your affairs, my
friend, remember my poor car yonder.
[Illustration: "YES, SIR, DANIEL VOORHEES PIKE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, KOKOMO,
INDIANA"]
PIKE [with a melancholy smile]. All right, Doc, I'm kind of confused
just now, but I reckon I can still put a plug back in a gear-box.
VASILI [at same time]. Then _au revoir_, my friend.
[Strolls off through the grove.]
PIKE [watching him go, thoughtfully]. Yes, _sir_!
ETHEL [haughtily, yet with the air of confessing a humiliating truth,
her eyes cast down]. I am Miss Granger-Simpson.
[As she speaks he turns and lifts his hand toward her as if suddenly
startled. He has not seen her until now. He stands for a moment in
silence, looking at her with great tenderness and pride.]
PIKE [with both wonder and pathos in his voice]. Why, I knew your pa
from the time I was a little boy till he died, and I looked up to him
more'n I ever looked up to anybody in my life, but I never thought he'd
have a girl like you!
[She turns from him; he takes a short step nearer her.]
He'd 'a' been mighty proud if he could see you now.
ETHEL [quickly, and with controlled agitation]. Perhaps it will be as
well if we avoid personal allusions.
PIKE [mildly]. I don't see how that's possible.
ETHEL [sitting]. Will you please sit down?
PIKE. Yes, ma'am!
[ETHEL shivers at the "ma'am."]
[He sits in the chair which HORACE has occupied, still holding his hat
in his hand.]
ETHEL [tremulously, her eyes cast down]. As you know, I--I--
[She stops, as if afraid of breaking down; then, turning toward him,
cries sharply.]
Oh, are you _really_ my guardian?
PIKE [smiling]. Well, I've got the papers in my grip. I expect--
ETHEL. Oh, I KNOW it! It is only that we didn't fancy, we didn't
expect--
PIKE. I expect you thought I'd be considerable older.
ETHEL. Not only _that_--
PIKE [interrupting gently]. I expect you thought I'd neglected you a
good deal [remorsefully], and it _did_ LOOK like it--never comin' to see
you; but I couldn't hardly manage the time to get away. You see, bein'
trustee of your share of the estate, I don't hardly have a fair show at
my law practice. But when I got your letter, eleven days ago, I says to
myself: "Here, Daniel Voorhees Pike, you old shellback, you've just got
to _take_ time. John Simpson trusted you with his property, and he's
done more [his voice rises, but his tone is affectionate and shows deep
feeling]--he's trusted you to look out for _her_, and now she's come to
a kind of jumpin'-off place in her life--she's thinking of gettin'
married; and you just pack your grip-sack and hike out over there and
stand _by_ her!"
ETHEL [frigidly]. I quite fail to understand your point of view. Perhaps
I had best make it at once clear to you that I am no longer _thinking_
of marrying.
PIKE [leaning back in his chair and smiling on her]. Well, Lord-a-Mercy!
ETHEL. I mean I have decided upon it. The ceremony is to take place
within a fortnight.
PIKE. Well, I declare!
ETHEL. We shall dispense with all delays.
PIKE [slowly and a little sadly]. Well, I don't know as I could rightly
say anything against that. He must be a mighty nice fellow, and you must
think a heap _of_ him!
[With a suppressed sigh.]
That's the way it should be.
[He smiles again and leans toward her in a friendly way.]
And you're happy, are you?
ETHEL [with cold emphasis, sitting very straight in her chair].
Distinctly!
[PIKE'S expression becomes puzzled, he passes his hand over his chin,
looks at her keenly. Then his eyes turn to the spot where HORACE stood
during their interview, and he starts, as though shocked at a sudden
thought.]
PIKE. It ain't that fellow I was talkin' to yonder?
ETHEL [indignantly]. That was my _brother_!
PIKE [relieved, but somewhat embarrassed]. Lord-a-Mercy!
[Recovering himself immediately and smiling.]
But, naturally, I wouldn't remember him. He couldn't have been more than
twelve years old last time you were home. Of course, I'd 'a' known
_you_--
ETHEL. How? You couldn't have seen me since I was a child.
PIKE. From your picture. Though now I see--it _ain't_ so much like you.
ETHEL. You have a photograph of _me_?
PIKE [very gently]. The last time I saw your father alive he gave me
one.
ETHEL [frowning]. _Gave_ it to you?
PIKE. Gave it to me to look at.
ETHEL. And you remembered--
PIKE [apologetically]. Yes, ma'am!
ETHEL [incredulously]. Remembered well enough to _know_ me?
PIKE. Yes, ma'am!
ETHEL. It does not strike me as possible. We may dismiss the subject.
PIKE. Well, if you'd like to introduce me to your [laughing feebly and
tentatively, hesitates]--to your--
ETHEL. To my brother?
PIKE. No, ma'am; I mean to your--to the young man.
ETHEL. To Mr. St. Aubyn? I think it quite unnecessary.
PIKE. I'm afraid I can't see it just that way [with an apologetic
laugh]. I'll _have_ to have a couple of talks with him--sort of look him
over, so to speak. I won't stay around here spoilin' your fun any longer
than I can help. Only just for that, and to get a letter I'm expectin'
here from England. Don't you be afraid.
ETHEL. I do not see that you need have come at all. [Her lip begins to
tremble.] We could have been spared this mortification.
PIKE [sadly]. You mean _I_ mortify you? Why, I--I can't see how.
ETHEL. In a hundred ways--every way. That common person who is with
you--
PIKE [gently]. _He_ ain't common. You only think so because he's with
_me_.
ETHEL [sharply]. Who is he?
PIKE. He told me his name, but I can't remember it. I call him "Doc."
ETHEL. It doesn't _matter_! What _does_ matter is that you needn't have
come. You could have _written_ your consent.
PIKE [mildly]. Not without seeing the young man.
ETHEL. And you could have arranged the settlement in the same way.
PIKE [smiling]. Settlement? You seem to have _settled_ it pretty well
without me.
ETHEL. You do not understand. An alliance of this sort always entails a
certain settlement.
PIKE. Yes, ma'am--when folks get married they generally settle down
considerable.
ETHEL [impatiently]. Please listen. If you were at all a man of the
world, I should not have to explain that in marrying into a noble house
I bring my _dot_, my dowry--
PIKE [puzzled]. _Money_, you mean?
ETHEL. If you choose to put it that way.
PIKE. You mean you want to put aside something of your own to buy a lot
and fix up a place to start housekeeping--
ETHEL. No, _no_! I mean a settlement upon Mr. St. Aubyn directly.
PIKE. You mean you want to _give_ it to him?
ETHEL. If that's the only way to make you understand--_yes_!
PIKE [amused]. How much do you want to give him?
ETHEL [coldly]. A hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
PIKE [incredulously]. Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars!
ETHEL. _Precisely_ that!
PIKE [amazed]. Well, he _has_ made you care for him! I guess he must be
the Prince of the World, honey! He must be a great man. I expect you're
right about me not meetin' _him_! I prob'ly wouldn't stack up very high
alongside of a man that's big enough for you to think as much of as you
do of him. [Smiling.] Why, I'd have to squeeze every bit of property
your pa left you.
ETHEL. Is it _your_ property?
PIKE [gently]. I've worked pretty hard to take care of it for you.
ETHEL [rising impulsively and coming to him]. Forgive me for saying
that.
PIKE [smiling]. Pshaw!
ETHEL. It was unworthy of me, unworthy of the higher and nobler things
that life calls me to live up to [proudly]--that I _shall_ live up to.
The money means nothing to me--I am not thinking of that. It is merely a
necessary form.
PIKE. Have you talked with Mr. St. Aubyn about this settlement--this
present you want to make him?
ETHEL. Not with him.
PIKE [amused]. I thought not! You'll see--he wouldn't take it if I'd let
you give it to him. A fine man like that wants to make his own way, of
course. Mighty few men like to have fun poked at 'em about livin' on
their wife's money.
ETHEL [despairingly]. Oh, I _can't_ make you understand! A settlement
isn't a gift.
PIKE [as if humoring her]. How'd you happen to decide that just a
hundred and fifty thousand pounds was what you wanted to give him?
ETHEL. It was Mr. St. Aubyn's father who fixed the amount.
PIKE. His _father_? What's _he_ got to do with it?
ETHEL. He is the Earl of Hawcastle, the head of the ancient house.
PIKE. And he asks you for your property--asks you for it in so many
words?
ETHEL. As a _settlement_!
PIKE [aghast]. And your young man _knows_ it?
ETHEL. I tell you I have not discussed it with Mr. St. Aubyn.
PIKE [emphatically]. I reckon not! Well, sir, do you know what's the
first thing Mr. St. Aubyn will do when he hears his father's made such a
proposition to you? He'll take the old man out in the back lot and give
him a thrashing he won't forget to the day of his death!
[The roll of drums is heard, distant, as if sounding below the cliff;
bugle sounds at the same time.]
[MARIANO and MICHELE run hurriedly from the hotel and lean over
balustrade at back, as if watching something below the cliff.]
[RIBIERE enters quickly with them, takes one quick glance in same
direction, and hurries off.]
[PIKE and ETHEL, surprised, turn to look.]
MARIANO [calling to ETHEL as he enters]. A bandit of Russia,
Mademoiselle! The soldiers think he hide in a grotto under the cliff!
[ALMERIC comes on rapidly from the hotel, carrying a shot-gun.]
ALMERIC [enthusiastically, as he enters]. Oh, I _say_, fair sport, by
Jove! Fair sport!
PIKE [to ETHEL, indicating ALMERIC, chuckling]. I saw _him_ on the road
here--what's he meant for?
ALMERIC. Think I'll have a chance to pot the beggar, Michele?
[He joins MICHELE at balustrade.]
MICHELE. No, Signore, there are two companies of carabiniere.
[PIKE, delighted, chuckles aloud.]
ETHEL [angry, calling]. Almeric!
ALMERIC [turning]. Hallo!
ETHEL [frigidly]. I wish to present my guardian to you. [To PIKE.]
_This_ is Mr. St. Aubyn.
[Illustration: _THIS_ IS MR. ST. AUBYN]
ALMERIC [coming down]. Hallo, though! It's the donkey man, isn't it? How
very odd! You'll have to see the Governor and our solicitor about the
settlement. I've some important business here. The police are chasing a
bally convict chap under the cliffs over yonder, so you'll have to
excuse me. I'll have to be toddling.
[Goes up to terrace wall overlooking cliffs.]
You know there's nothing like a little convict shooting to break the
blooming monotony--what?
[The bugle sounds. ALMERIC turns and rushes off.]
Wait for me, you fellows! Don't hurt him till _I_ get there!
[His voice dies away in the distance.]
PIKE [turning to ETHEL with slow horror]. _Seven hundred and fifty
thousand dollars for_--How much do they charge over here for a _real_
man?
[She is unable to meet his eye. She turns, with flaming cheeks, and runs
into the hotel. He stands staring after her, incredulous, dumfounded, in
a frozen attitude.]
END OF THE FIRST ACT
THE SECOND ACT
Scene: Entrance garden of the hotel.
In the distance are seen the green slopes of vineyards, a ruined castle,
and olive orchards leading up the mountainside.
An old stone wall seven feet high runs across the rear of the stage.
This wall is almost covered with vines, showing autumn tints, crowning
the crest of the wall and hanging from it in profusion. There is a broad
green gate of the Southern Italian type, closed. A white-columned
pergola runs obliquely down from the wall on the right. The top of the
pergola is an awning formed by a skeleton of green-painted wooden strips
thickly covered by entwining lemon branches bearing ripening lemons.
Between the columns of the pergola are glimpses of a formal Italian
garden: flowers, hedges, and a broad flat marble vase on a slender
pedestal, etc. On the left a two-story wing of the hotel meets the wall
at the back and runs square across to the left; a lemon grove lies to
the left also. The wall of the hotel facing the audience shows open
double doors, with windows up-stairs and below, all with lowered
awnings. There is a marble bench at the left among shrubberies; an open
touring-car upon the right under the awning formed by the overhang of
the pergola; a bag of tools, open, on the stage near by, the floor
boards of the car removed, the apron lifted.
As the curtain rises, PIKE, in his shirt-sleeves, his hands dirty, and
wearing a workman's long blouse buttoned at neck, is bending over the
engine, working and singing, at intervals whistling "The Blue and the
Gray." His hat, duster, and cuffs are on the rear seat of the tonneau.
[Enter HORACE from the garden. He is flushed and angry; controls himself
with an effort, trying to speak politely.]
HORACE. Mr. Pike!
PIKE [apparently not hearing him, hammering at a bolt-head with a
monkey-wrench and singing].
"One lies down at Appomattox--"
HORACE [sharply]. Mr. Pike! Mr. Pike, I wish a word with you.
PIKE [looks up mildly]. Hum!
[He moves to the other side of the engine, rubbing handle of
monkey-wrench across his chin as if puzzled.]
HORACE. I wish to tell you that the surprise of this morning so upset me
that I went for a long walk. I have just returned.
PIKE [regarding the machine intently, sings softly].
"One wore clothes of gray--."
[Then he whistles the air. Throughout this interview he maintains almost
constantly an air of absorption in his work and continues to whistle and
sing softly.]
HORACE [continuing]. I have been even more upset by what I have just
learned from my sister.
PIKE [absently]. Why, that's too bad.
HORACE. It _is_ too bad--absurdly--monstrously bad! She tells me that
she has done you the honor to present you to the family with which we
are forming an alliance--to the Earl of Hawcastle--her fiancé's father--
PIKE [with cheerful absent-mindedness--working]. Yes, sir!
HORACE [continuing]. To her fiancé's aunt, Lady Creech--
PIKE. Yes, sir! the whole possetucky of them. [Singing softly.] "She was
my hanky-panky-danky from the town of Kalamazack!" Yes, sir--that French
lady, too.
[He throws a quick, keen glance at HORACE, then instantly appears
absorbed in work again, singing,]
"She ran away with a circus clown--she never did come back--Oh, Solomon
Levi!"
[Continues to whistle the tune softly.]
HORACE. And she introduced you to her fiancé--to Mr. St. Aubyn himself.
PIKE [looking up, monkey-wrench in hand]. Yes, sir [chuckles]; _we_ had
quite a talk about shootin' in Indiana; said he'd heard of Peru, in his
school history. Wanted to come out some day, he said, and asked what our
best game was. I told him we had some Incas still preserved in the
mountains of Indiana, and he said he'd like a good Inca head to put up
in his gun-room. He _ought_ to get one, _oughtn't_ he?
[Starts to work again, busily.]
HORACE [indignantly]. My sister informs me that in spite of Lord
Hawcastle's most graciously offering to discuss her engagement with you,
you refused.
PIKE. Well, I didn't see any need of it.
HORACE. Furthermore, you allege that you will decline to go into the
matter with Lord Hawcastle's solicitor.
PIKE. What matter?
HORACE [angrily]. The matter of the settlement.
PIKE [quietly]. Your sister kind of let it out to me awhile ago that you
think a good deal of this French widow lady. Suppose you make up your
mind to take her for richer or poorer--what's _she_ going to give _you_?
HORACE [roaring]. Nothing! What do you mean?
PIKE. Well, I thought you'd probably charge her [with a slight drawl] a
_little_, anyhow. Ain't that the way over here?
[Turns to work again, humming "Dolly Gray."]
HORACE. It is impossible for you to understand the motives of my sister
and myself in our struggle _not_ to remain in the vulgar herd. But can't
you try to comprehend that there is an Old-World society, based not on
wealth, but on that indescribable something which comes of ancient
lineage and high birth? [With great indignation.] You presume to
interfere between us and the fine flower of Europe!
PIKE [straightening up, but speaking quietly]. Well, I don't know as the
folks around Kokomo would ever have spoke of your father as a "fine
flower," but we thought a heap of him, and when he married your ma he
was so glad to get her--well, I never heard yet that he asked for any
_settlement_!
HORACE. You are quite impossible.
PIKE. The fact is, when she took him he was a poor man; but if he'd a
had seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, I'll bet he'd 'a' given
it for her.
[Starts to hammer vigorously, humming "Dolly Gray."]
HORACE. There is no profit in continuing the discussion.
[Turns on his heel, but immediately turns again toward PIKE, who is
apparently preoccupied.]
And I warn you we shall act without paying the slightest attention to
you. [Triumphantly.] What have you to say to that, sir?
[PIKE'S answer is conveyed by the motor-horn, which says: "Honk! Honk!"
HORACE throws up his hands despairingly. PIKE'S voice becomes audible in
the last words of the song: "Good-bye, Dolly Gray."]
[Enter LADY CREECH and ALMERIC through the gates.]
HORACE [meeting them]. The fellow is hopeless.
LADY CREECH [not hearing, and speaking from habit, automatically].
Dreadful person!
[PIKE continues his work, paying no attention.]
ALMERIC [to HORACE]. Better let him alone till the Governor's had time
to think a bit. Governor's clever. He'll fetch the beggar about somehow.
LADY CREECH [with a Parthian glance at the unconscious PIKE]. I sha'h't
stop in the creature's presence--I shall go up to my room for my forty
winks.
[Exit into the hotel.]
ALMERIC [as she goes out]. Day-day, aunt! [To HORACE.] I'm off to look
at that pup again. You trust the Governor.
HORACE [as ALMERIC goes]. I do, I do. It is insufferable, but I'll wait.
[Exit into the garden.]
[PIKE stands for a moment, contemplating the car in some despondency,
still humming or whistling.]
[LADY CREECH, after a few moments, appears at a window in the upper
story of the hotel. Unseen by PIKE, she pulls up the awning for a better
view, and drops lace curtains inside of window so as to screen herself
from observation. Sits watching.]
[Immediately upon HORACE'S exit MARIANO, flustered, enters hurriedly
from the hotel, goes to the gates, and fumbles with the lock. At the
same time VASILI enters from the garden, smoking.]
VASILI. You make progress, my friend?
PIKE. Your machine's like a good many people--got sand in its gear-box.
VASILI [to MARIANO]. Are you locking us in?
MARIANO [excitedly coming down and showing a big key which he has taken
from the lock]. No, Herr von Gröllerhagen, I lock some one _out_--that
bandit who have not been capture. The carabiniere warn us to close all
gates for an hour. They will have that wicked one soon. There are two
companies. [In a lower tone to VASILI.] Monsieur Ribiere has much fears.
VASILI. Monsieur Ribiere is sometimes a fool.
MARIANO [in a hoarse whisper]. Monsieur, this convict is a Russian.
[VASILI waves him away somewhat curtly.]
[Exit MARIANO, shaking his head, carrying the key with him.]
PIKE. Two companies of soldiers! A town marshal out my way would 'a' had
him yesterday.
VASILI. My friend, you are teaching me to respect your country, not by
what you brag, but by what you do.
PIKE. How's that.
VASILI [significantly]. I see how a son of that great democracy can
apply himself to a dirty machine, while his eyes are full of visions of
one of its beautiful daughters.
PIKE [slowly and sadly, peering into the machine]. Doc, there's sand in
your gear-box.
VASILI [laughing]. So?
PIKE. You go down to the kitchen and make signs for some of the help to
give you a nice clean bunch of rags.
VASILI [surprised into hauteur]. What is it you ask me to do?
PIKE. I need some more rags.
VASILI [amused]. My friend, I obey.
[Makes a mock-serious bow and starts.]
PIKE. I won't leave the machine--'twouldn't be safe.
VASILI [halting, laughs]. You fear this famous bandit would steal it?
PIKE. No; but there's parties around here might think it was a
settlement.
VASILI. I do not understand.
PIKE [chuckling]. Doc, that's where we're in the same fix.
VASILI. Weidersehn, my friend.
[Exit into hotel.]
[PIKE kneels on the foot-board of machine above gear-box, begins to
clean, using an old rag, singing "Sweet Genevieve." A distant shot is
heard. PIKE looks up at this, ceasing to sing. Then he continues his
work and music. LADY CREECH leans out from her window, staring off to
the right with opera-glasses. There is a noise at the gates as some one
hastily but cautiously tries to open them. PIKE looks up again, turns
toward the gates, and, after a short pause, again begins to sing and
work, but very softly.]
[IVANOFF appears on top of the wall at back, climbing up cautiously from
lane below. He creeps from the wall to the top of pergola and cautiously
along that through the foliage to above PIKE. He peers over the foliage
at PIKE.]
[PIKE looks up slowly, and, as slowly, stops "Sweet Genevieve," his
voice fading away on a half syllable as he encounters IVANOFF'S gaze.
They stare at each other, LADY CREECH observing unseen.]
[IVANOFF is a thin, very fragile-looking man of thirty-eight. His
disordered hair is prematurely gray, his beard is a grizzled four days'
stubble. He is exceedingly haggard and worn, but has the face and look
of a man of refinement and cultivation. He has lost his hat; his shoes
and trousers are splashed with dried mud, and brambles cling to him here
and there. He wears a soiled white shirt and collar, and a torn black
tie, black waistcoat and trousers. He is covered with dust from head to
foot; one sleeve of his shirt has been torn off at the elbow. He wears
no coat.]
IVANOFF [in a voice tremulous with tragic appeal]. Et ce que vous êtes
un homme de bon coeur? Je ne suis pas coupable--
PIKE [very gravely]. There ain't any use in the world your talkin' to me
like that!
IVANOFF [panting]. You are an Englishman?
PIKE [quietly, rising and stepping back]. That'll do for _that._ You
come down from there!
IVANOFF [in a voice that lifts, almost cracks, with sudden hope]. An
American?
PIKE. They haven't made me anything else yet.
IVANOFF [swinging himself down to the ground]. Thank God for that!
[He leans against the car, exhausted.]
PIKE. I do. What makes _you_ so glad about it?
IVANOFF. Because I have suffered in the cause your own forefathers gave
their lives for. I am a Russian political fugitive, and I can go no
farther. If you give me up I shall not be taken alive. I have no weapon,
but I can find a way to cut my throat.
PIKE [with humorous incredulity]. Are _you_ the bandit they're lookin'
for?
IVANOFF. They call me that. Do I look like a bandit?
PIKE. How close are they?
IVANOFF [with despairing gesture]. There!
PIKE. Did they see you climb that wall?
IVANOFF. I think not.
[There comes a loud ringing at the gates. At the sound IVANOFF starts
violently, throwing one arm up as if to shield his face from a blow.]
IVANOFF. Oh, my God! it is they!
[He staggers back against the machine.]
PIKE [hastily stripping off his working blouse]. Do you know anything
about gear-box plugs?
[The ringing continues.]
IVANOFF. Nothing in the world.
PIKE. Then you're a chauffeur. [Puts blouse on him.] Take a look at this
one. [With emphatic significance.] It's _underneath_ the machine.
[Quickly sets his hands on IVANOFF'S shoulders, having forced the blouse
on him, and pushes him beneath the car.]
MARIANO [within the hotel, calling]. Subito! Subito! Vengo, Signore!
Vengo!
[PIKE at same time rapidly wipes his hands on a rag, puts on his hat,
cuffs, and coat, which have been lying on the seat.]
MARIANO [running on, flustered]. Corpo de St. Costanzo! Non posso essere
dapertutto allo stesso tempo. Vengo, vengo!
[He hastens to the gates with his key, unfastening busily. Meanwhile
PIKE lights a cigar.]
MARIANO. Ecco! [Throws open gates and falls back in astonishment.] Dio
mio!
[Two carabiniere, good-looking, soldierly men in the carabiniere
uniform, cocked hats, white cross-belts, etc., are disclosed, their
carbines slung over their arms, their long cloaks thrown back. Behind
the carabiniere stand some fishermen in red caps, dirty flannel shirts,
and trousers rolled up to the knee; also a few ragged beggars.]
FIRST CARABINIERE [as gate is opened]. Buon giorno!
[The two carabiniere enter briskly.]
MARIANO. [springing forward and closing gate, calling to crowd outside].
No, no!
FIRST CARABINIERE. Ceerchimo l'assassino Russo.
MARIANO. Dio mio! Non nell' Albergo Regina Margherita.
SECOND CARABINIERE [coming to PIKE]. Avete visto un uomo scavalcare il
muro?
PIKE [genially]. Wishing you many happy returns, Colonel!
MARIANO [greatly excited]. It is the robber of Russia. They think he
climb the wall, the assassin. The other carabiniere, they surround all
yonder. [Gesturing right and left.] These two they search here. They ask
you, please, have you see him climb the wall.
PIKE. No.
FIRST CARABINIERE. Ae quelcuno passato de qui?
MARIANO. He say has any one go across here?
PIKE. No.
FIRST CARABINIERE [pointing under the car]. Chi costui?
MARIANO. He want to know who that is.
PIKE. The new chauffeur for the machine, from Naples.
MARIANO. E lo chauffeur di un illustre personaggio padrone dell'
automobile.
FIRST CARABINIERE [bowing to PIKE]. Grazia, Signore. [To MARIANO.]
Cerchereremo nel giardino.
[Exit swiftly FIRST CARABINIERE to the right through pergola; SECOND to
the left.]
MARIANO. Dio mio! but those are the brave men, Signore. Either one shall
meet in a moment this powerful assassin who may take his lifes.
[Murmur of voice from back arises, sounds of running feet and shrill
whistles and pounding on gates.]
[MARIANO runs back, opens the gates, showing excited and clamoring
fishermen and beggars in the lane. They try to come in. He drives them
back with a napkin, which has been hanging over his arm, crying: "Vate,
vate! Devo dire al maresciallo di cacciarvi?"]
[Meanwhile VASILI has entered from the hotel, a bundle of clean white
rags in his hand.]
VASILI. Is there a new eruption of Vesuvius?
PIKE [meeting him and taking the rags]. No; it's an eruption of colonels
trying to arrest a high-school professor. I've got him under your car
there.
VASILI [astounded]. What!
PIKE. I told them he's your new chauffeur.
VASILI. My friend, do you realize the penalty for protecting a criminal
from arrest?
PIKE. We'll be proud of the risk.
[Speaks in an undertone to IVANOFF.]
This man owns the car. You can trust him the same as your own father.
VASILI [remonstrating]. My friend, my friend!
[Illustration: "THE NEW CHAUFFEUR FOR THE MACHINE, FROM NAPLES"]
PIKE [quietly]. Look out, the Governor's staff is coming back.
MARIANO [closing the gates and wiping his face]. Lazzaroni!
[At the same time FIRST CARABINIERE enters from right; SECOND
CARABINIERE from left.]
SECOND CARABINIERE. Niente!
FIRST CARABINIERE. Niente la!
[The two CARABINIERE cross briskly to each other as they speak, and
stand conferring.]
MARIANO. Grazia Dio! He has gone some other place!
PIKE [very casually to VASILI]. You'll have to get a new off front tire,
Doc. That one is pretty near gone. Better have Jim, here, put on the
spare when he gets through.
[The CARABINIERE beckon to MARIANO and speak to him.]
VASILI [seriously, stepping toward PIKE]. Do you know what you are
asking me to do?
PIKE [watching CARABINIERE]. To put on a new tire.
[VASILI, with exclamation and gesture of despair grimly tinged with
humor, turns away, greatly disturbed.]
MARIANO [addressing PIKE with an embarrassed bow]. The carabiniere with
all excuses beg if you will command the chauffeur to step forth from the
automobile.
PIKE. _No_, sir; I worked on that machine myself for three hours. He's
got his hands full of nuts and screws and bolts half fastened. If he
lays them down now to come out I don't know how long it'll take to get
them back in place. We want to get this job finished. [Continues with a
plaintive uplift of voice.] This is _serious_! Tell them to go on up
Main Street with their Knights of Pythias parade, and come around some
day when we haven't got our hands full.
MARIANO [meekly]. I tell them--yes, sir.
[Turns and confers with the CARABINIERE.]
PIKE. It'll be your turn in a minute, Doc; be mighty careful what you
say.
MARIANO. Because the chauffeur have been engaged only to-day and have
just arrived, the carabiniere ask ten thousand pardons, but inquire how
long he have been known to his employer.
[He bows to VASILI with embarrassment.]
PIKE. How long? Why, he was raised on his father's farm.
[He faces VASILI, and stretches his arm out toward him as if for
corroboration.]
MARIANO [to VASILI]. Oh, if that is so!
PIKE. It _is_ so; ain't it, Doc?
VASILI [to. MARIANO, with dignity]. You have heard my friend say it.
MARIANO [to VASILI, in a serious undertone]. Monseigneur graciously
consents that I reveal his incognito to the carabiniere.
VASILI. Is it necessary?
MARIANO. Otherwise I fear they will not withdraw; they have suspicion.
VASILI [with a gesture of resignation]. Very well, tell them. I rely
upon them to preserve my incognito from all others.
MARIANO [bowing deeply]. Monseigneur, they will be discreet.
[Goes up to CARABINIERE and speaks to them.]
PIKE [aside to IVANOFF]. Make a noise--keep busy. [Then with more
emphasis.] But don't you unscrew anything!
MARIANO [to VASILI, smiling]. Monseigneur, they withdraw.
[The CARABINIERE, with great deference and gravity, salute VASILI. He
returns the salute curtly.]
FIRST CARABINIERE. Mille grazias, Signore!
[MARIANO throws the gates open, the two CARABINIERE go rapidly out,
sweeping the crowd away. MARIANO closes the gates.]
PIKE [giving MARIANO a coin]. You're pretty good. MARIANO. It required
but the slightest diplomacy, Signore. Thank you, Signore!
[Exit into the hotel.]
PIKE [puzzled]. He must have mesmerized the militia.
VASILI [glancing off]. It is quite safe for the time.
PIKE [going to the car]. It's all right, old man!
[Extends his hand to IVANOFF and helps him up from beneath the machine.]
IVANOFF. I will pray God for you all my life.
PIKE. Wait till we get you plumb out of the woods.
IVANOFF [to VASILI]. And you, sir, if I could speak my gratitude--
VASILI [crisply]. My American friend yonder has placed himself--and
myself--in danger of the penal code of Italy for protecting you. Perhaps
you will be so good as to let us know for what we have incriminated
ourselves.
IVANOFF [looking at him keenly]. You are a Russian?
PIKE. Don't be afraid--he's only a German.
IVANOFF [bitterly]. The Italian journals call me a brigand, inspired by
the Russian legation in Rome. My name is Ivanoff Ivanovitch.
PIKE [reassuringly]. All right, old man!
IVANOFF. I was condemned in Petersburg ten years ago. I was a professor
of the languages, a translator in the bureau of the Minister of Finance.
I was a member of the Society of the Blue Fifty, a constitutionalist.
PIKE. Good for you.
IVANOFF. I was able to do little for the cause, though I tried.
VASILI. How did you try?
IVANOFF. I transferred funds of the government to the Society of the
Blue Fifty. Never one ruble for myself. [Strikes himself on the breast.]
It was for Russia's sake--not mine!
VASILI [sharply]. But you committed the great Russian crime of getting
yourself caught?
IVANOFF. Through treachery. There was an Englishman who lived in
Petersburg. He had contracts with the government--I thought he was my
best friend. I had married in my student days in Paris--ah, it is the
old story [bitterly]! I knew that this Englishman admired my wife; but I
trusted him--as I trusted her--and he made my house his home. I had
fifty thousand rubles in my desk to be delivered to my society. The
police came to search; they found only me--but not my wife nor my
English friend--nor the fifty thousand rubles! I went to Siberia. Now I
search for those two.
VASILI [gravely]. Was it they who sent the police?
IVANOFF. After they had taken the money and were beyond the frontier
themselves. That is all I have against them.
PIKE [gently]. Looks to me like it would be enough.
VASILI. Then, by your own confession, you are an embezzler and a
revolutionist.