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CONQUEST
Or
A Piece of Jade
A New Play in Three Acts
by
MARIE C. STOPES
D.Sc., Ph.D., F.R.S.Litt., etc.
1/- net
Copyright 1917 by Dr. Marie C. Stopes
New York
Samuel French
Publisher
28-30 West 38th Street
London
Samuel French, Ltd.
26 Southampton Street
Strand
1917
LEATHERHEAD, SURREY,
ENGLAND.
DEAR MR. DELIGHTFULEST-MANAGER-IN-THE-WORLD,--
I am sending you this play printed instead of type-written because I
think you will find it much easier to slip into your pocket and read,
and also because I don’t know your address, and printed books have a
way of finding people without being addressed which typescripts have
not yet learnt. So instead of sending my play round, in what people
tell me is the usual way, to lots and lots of managers in typescript
and wasting ever so much valuable time while they don’t read it, I am
sending it to you direct, and hope you will like it. When you read it
you will find that there is still another reason why I am glad to see
it in print.
First let me have just one word in your ear, please: don’t look to
see how many pages long it is, and (reckoning “a page a minute”) say
it is too short to fill an evening, for I ought to tell you it is a
full-length play but the printer is war-economising and has printed it
all on fewer pages than he would have done in the days of Paper, Peace
and Plenty long ago.
While I was writing the leading part I pictured one of our finest
actresses in it, and she has read it and says the play is “simply
splendid”: if you want her to take the part I will tell you her name
and address, but she is such an angel she will forgive you if some one
you love better seems to you to be the heroine.
Yours sincerely,
MARIE C. STOPES.
_Registered Copyright by Marie C. Stopes._
_The Copyright of_ CONQUEST _is the sole property of the author, to
whom application should be made for a license to produce, translate,
place on the cinematograph or use in any other way._
_Addressing_: DR. MARIE STOPES,
_Craigvara, Leatherhead,
Surrey, England_.
“CONQUEST,” or “A PIECE OF JADE.”
A NEW PLAY IN THREE ACTS, BY
MARIE C. STOPES.
TIME: _1915_. PLACE: _New Zealand and London_.
ACT I.
An Out-station on the Hyde’s Sheep Farm,
New Zealand.
Afternoon.
ACT II.
The Hyde’s Homestead, New Zealand.
Morning.
Three or four months elapse between Acts I. and II.
ACT III.
The Duchess of Rainshire’s Drawing-room, London.
Evening.
About two months elapse between Acts II. and III.
“CONQUEST,” or “A PIECE OF JADE.”
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
_In the order of their appearance_:
FIRST SHEPHERD.
SECOND SHEPHERD.
GORDON HYDE, _New Zealand Sheep Farmer_.
ROTO, _an old Maori_.
NORA LEE, _A New Zealand Girl_.
LOVEDAY LEWISHAM, _Nora’s Cousin, out from England_.
ROBERT HYDE, _New Zealand Sheep Farmer, Gordon’s Brother_.
JOHN VARLIE _alias_ THE REV DR. CHAPMAN.
RECRUITING OFFICER.
THE DUCHESS OF RAINSHIRE.
A CABINET MINISTER.
SMITHERS.
ALSO (_Without words_):
TWO (OR PERHAPS THREE) YOUNG MEN _in New Zealand Khaki_.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, _Guests at the Duchess’ Evening Party_.
MAID, _Footman’s substitute in uniform_.
TWO PLAIN CLOTHES OFFICERS.
ONE OR TWO COLLIE DOGS.
SHEEP--ONE, OR MORE, _if convenient_.
“CONQUEST,”
OR
“A PIECE OF JADE.”
A NEW PLAY IN THREE ACTS BY
MARIE C. STOPES.
ACT I.
_THE SCENE is set in the hills of the sheep-raising part of the S.
Island of New Zealand._
_The back-cloth is painted with fine rocky and wooded hills and
lakes, rather like Scotland but with a clearer, bluer sky and keener
atmosphere._
_The stage represents a temporary camp in a clearing, for the
mustering and marking of sheep. There are boulders and groups of
luxuriant trees. The grass is trampled under foot. RIGHT CENTRE is
an open fire with cooking utensils. BACK RIGHT the corner of sheep
enclosures. On LEFT is a temporary cover, part canvas, part tree
branches._
_TWO SHEPHERDS are DISCOVERED near the fire, binding up the leg of a
sheep. The collie dogs prowl and lie around._
1ST SHEP. (_An old, wiry man._) A fine muster, this year.
2ND SHEP. (_A dour man, about 45 years old._) Aye.
1ST SHEP. The best season I mind for ten years. (_Working with sheep’s
leg._) Plague take it, it’s slipped. Lie still you bleatin’ fule ye!
And sheep s’d fetch a guid price this year and all.
2ND SHEP. Aye.
1ST SHEP. I’m thinkin’ these sheep will be making the fortune of the
young masters, but they do nought but make work for us.
2ND SHEP. (_Spits._) Aye.
1ST SHEP. The young masters must get an extra man, we never had to
handle so many sheep.
2ND SHEP. Men’ll be scarce now.
1ST SHEP. They will that. Do you hear they recruitin’ fellows are
scourin’ the country for likely lads?
2ND SHEP. Aye.
1ST SHEP. When did you know it?
2ND SHEP. ’Bout a week ago.
1ST SHEP. (_Reproachfully._) And ye kept a tale like that from me--and
me that glad of any bit of news in this lonesomeness. I call that nasty
of ye.
(_2ND SHEPHERD is silent; spits slowly._)
I call that nasty of ye.
2ND SHEP. Aye.
1ST SHEP. And what else do ye know ye might tell me if--if, well,
if I had a wee drop of something to loosen your lips--(_Pulls out a
flask and a tin cup and pours a small drink--the dogs come up._) Down
Jock--get out Scottie. What news have ye for this, eh?
(_2ND SHEPHERD reaches out his hand._)
1ST SHEP. Na-na. News first. It mayn’t be worth it all.
2ND SHEP. The new young lady from England is comin’ this afternoon.
1ST SHEP. What young lady? Why don’t I know a’ these wild doin’s?
What’s she like. Who’s she stayin’ with?
2ND SHEP. Old man Lee and his daughter.
1ST SHEP. Have you seen her? What’s she like?
2ND SHEP. (_Stretching out his hand for his drink._) I’ve earned it.
1ST SHEP. (_Drawing it away._) Ye’ll tell me what she’s like first.
2ND SHEP. A flower. You give it to me now.
1ST SHEP. (_Hands it grudgingly._) Well, perhaps you desarve it. That’s
news.
(_He slowly fills a kettle out of a pail of water which he observes
with annoyance is nearly empty and puts kettle on the fire._)
For why is she coming here?
2ND SHEP. London city was killin’ her. The doctor ordered six months of
healin’ air.
1ST SHEP. If she’s as bonny as you say it’ll be joyful doings for the
young masters. Lasses are scarce here.
2ND SHEP. There’s Nora Lee.
1ST SHEP. Well, fule. She’s only one. We’ve got two young masters, let
alone the other young chaps hereby.
2ND SHEP. Mister Gordon’s lame. What’d he do with a girl?
1ST SHEP. Only a bit lame, only a wee bit lame, like--and he’s got a
rare brain--look at the exchange o’ reapers and such like he rigged
up for the freeholders around here. He’s just chock full o’ ideas and
always dreamin’ and readin’ and talkin’ about ’em. That’s what girls
like. He’ll be as good in a girl’s eyes as his brother--better I
shouldn’t wonder.
2ND SHEP. He’s no good for the war.
1ST SHEP. And what matters that? Am I any good for the war? Down
Scottie, down will ye! Yourself is not much good for the war, and yet a
pretty girl or two don’t come amiss to your eyes even though they never
looked at ye. War! You’re crazy on the war. Why man it’s more’n ten
thousand miles off and it’s a game for the young chaps anyway.
2ND SHEP. It’s no game.
1ST SHEP. It’ll raise the price of sheep. That’s one thing I’m
thinking. And we have more sheep on this station to-day than there have
been in my memory. Aren’t there now?
2ND SHEP. Aye.
(_GORDON HYDE comes slowly on from right wing, a fishing rod and bag
of fish on his shoulder. He is slight, bronzed, and with a fine noble
face. He limps, his leg dragging. 1ST SHEPHERD takes up a tin of
salmon and slowly begins to prepare to open it._)
GORDON. There’s a good haul for supper, lads. (_Throws down fish._)
(_THE SHEPHERDS move a little from the fire respectfully, but don’t
touch their hats or get up._)
1ST SHEP. Aye, aye, Boss.
(_He is just about to insert the tin opener, GORDON suddenly notices
him._)
GORDON. What have you got there?
1ST SHEP. A tin of salmon, Boss.
GORDON. Stop opening it then. Use that fresh fish instead. Tinned stuff
is extra valuable nowadays. It can be sent to the front. We have time
to think out here on these hills. I have thought till my head reeled
and not yet found out what _big_ things we can do for our country,
but the little duties are clear enough, and one of ’em is not to be
wasteful.
2ND SHEP. Aye, Boss. That’s true.
(_1ST SHEPHERD shamefacedly lays down the tin._)
1ST SHEP. Eh, Boss, the sheep’s fine this year.
GORDON. What is the full tally?
1ST SHEP. Mr. Robert hasn’t come in yet, but from what I’ve heard, it
looks to be the best year on this station.
GORDON. Fine. We can’t have too much wool and mutton this year.
(_ROTO comes on from left second Entrance, somewhat staggering under
two pails of water. He is an old Maori, with straight black hair
turning white, and a few tatoo marks on his face. He has high cheek
bones, a broad nose, and full lips, but is light brown in colour and
very intelligent and fine in expression. He wears a short pair of
pants, and a piece of fine matting on his shoulders, his scanty shirt
is open at the neck and a string with a carved green jade charm is
partly seen._)
ROTO. Here is the water for Miss Nora’s tea, Boss.
1ST SHEP. (_To 2nd Shep._) She has an healthier thirst than yours.
GORDON. (_Busying himself smoothing a seat of fern._) She’ll be tired
after that long ride.
1ST SHEP. The other lady’ll be worse. She’s not native born like Miss
Nora.
GORDON. (_Quickly._) Her fine lady cousin! She’s coming, of course. I’d
forgotten! Here, you chaps, get that place straight. (_Indicates the
shelter, which shows a disorder of blankets, etc._) What is this sheep
doing here?
1ST SHEP. Her leg broke when she tried to push through over a rocky
bit. I have tethered her down. The young lady may like to pat her or
tie a ribbon round her neck perhaps.
GORDON. (_Grinning._) You old fool. All right. Leave her. Go and
straighten things up a bit in the shelter. ’Tis like a pig-stye.
(_A clatter of horses hoofs, shouts of “Whoa there, Nellie. Here we
are,” etc., is heard without. TWO GIRLS with riding hats and whips
ENTER front right wing._
_NORA LEE is dainty with light hair and a rather sunburnt face and
neck. She has pale lashes; she is petite and pretty and rather
self-assured. She advances laughing._)
NORA. Here we are!
GORDON. (_Springing up and limping hurriedly to meet her, taking off
his hat._) Oh, Nora, I’m glad you’ve come.
NORA. Where is Robert?
GORDON. Out with the men. He’ll be back by tea-time.
(_LOVEDAY stands a little back looking round and waiting. She is
taller than NORA; a splendidly built, dark-haired and beautiful woman,
with a clear skin, deep searching eyes, regular features. She walks
like a Queen and has a deep-toned, but soft and thrilling voice. She
is all in white._)
NORA. This is my cousin, Loveday Lewisham, Gordon.
(_LOVEDAY smiles, comes forward and shakes hands with GORDON._)
You know I told you all about her, and how she broke down with war-work
in England and is going to make her home with us for six months. _You_
know.
GORDON. I do know. (_Smiles._) I wish you welcome, Miss Lewisham.
NORA. Loveday.
GORDON. Yes. This is a friendly country. My name is Gordon.
LOVEDAY. How beautiful that view is. And _what_ a ride we had. Three
hours of fairyland!
NORA. Oh, that’s nothing! Let us show her everything. Where’s old Roto?
She wants to see a Maori. And where is Robert?
GORDON. I’ll coo-ee for Robert.
(_His coo-ee is long and penetrating so that it re-echoes._)
And there is Roto. Hi. Come along, Roto. Miss Nora wants to show you
off.
(_ROTO advances from shelter, which is now in better order, the
blankets piled up, etc._)
ROTO. (_Grinning._) Here, Miss Nora.
NORA. Good-day, Roto. See, Loveday. This is a real live Maori. Nothing
wonderful after all!
LOVEDAY. Oh, how do you do?
ROTO. Finely, Miss.
LOVEDAY. (_Smiling winningly._) You are not nearly so terrifying as I
expected!
ROTO. (_Grinning, pleased._) Maoris not allowed to be terrible now,
Miss.
LOVEDAY. That _is_ a shame. I’d so _much_ rather be a savage myself.
What do you do now they won’t let you be a savage any more?
ROTO. Help with the sheep and cook.
LOVEDAY. (_Stooping forward and taking hold of ROTO’S green jade charm
hanging on its long string round his neck._) And what is that queer
thing you wear round your neck?
NORA. (_Hastily._) A jade charm--these natives often wear them. They
are very superstitious.
GORDON. The Maoris believe in all sorts of charms and magic and
spirits. They have a legend about these forests, for instance, that a
goddess of wisdom lives in these hill tops and is a tree by day and a
white woman at night.
LOVEDAY. (_Her eyes sparkling_). Have you seen her?
GORDON. Not yet--but sometimes--
LOVEDAY. But sometimes--go on--do tell me--
GORDON. Sometimes after a day alone in these forests, at sunset, when
the heavens seem opening, one half imagines Wisdom is just behind one,
slipping between the trees--I (_hesitates_).
LOVEDAY. What an enchanting country. Tell me--
(_Sounds of arrival disturb them. ROBERT HYDE ENTERS. He is like
GORDON, but much sturdier. He is very strong and manly, with a more
sensual and less spiritual face. A very good fellow._)
NORA. Here’s Robert. Robert! I have brought Loveday. This is Loveday
Lewisham. She arrived last week, when you were out here. She would
come so as to see a camp before you break it up. She wants to see
_everything_.
(_ROBERT and LOVEDAY shake hands. ROBERT is evidently much impressed._)
ROBERT. I’ll show her. (_Goes over towards fire, and points to sheep
enclosures at back._) Do you see those? That’s just the beginning of
them. We have a rare good lot of sheep this year.
LOVEDAY. I _am_ glad. We need everything good we can get this year.
ROBERT. We need everything we can get every year.
LOVEDAY. But this year specially. There are so many people in England
who need extra feeding and clothing. Your sheep will be useful.
ROBERT. I hadn’t thought of that.
GORDON. Wool and mutton! Both necessaries. Of course we’ve all thought
of that, Robert.
NORA. Loveday is simply obsessed with the idea of the war, and says we
ought not to have any luxuries.
2ND SHEP. Aye. She’s right.
LOVEDAY. What is that sheep doing? (_Goes toward the lame sheep by the
fire._)
ROBERT. I dunno. Sick, I expect. Here, Roto. What is that sheep here
for?
ROTO. Leg broke, Boss.
LOVEDAY. Oh, isn’t it thirsty? Look how its tongue hangs out. Let me
give it some water.
ROBERT. (_Smiling._) It doesn’t want water.
LOVEDAY. Are sheep like rabbits? Don’t they need water?
ROTO. (_Laughing._) Rabbits!
ROBERT. (_Smiling._) Don’t you speak of rabbits to a New Zealander!
Rabbits are the very devil here! We poison ’em, we shoot ’em, we trap
’em, we set dogs on ’em, we set stoats on to ’em, we imported weasels
to catch ’em, we sent to Europe for ferrets to hike ’em out, we breed
cats to catch ’em, we wire ’em in, and burn ’em out, and set poisoned
corn over their runs, and kill ’em by thousands--but millions of ’em
spring up out of the very earth and sometimes threaten to starve out
the sheep, they clear the grass out. Rabbits! For the Lord’s sake don’t
speak affectionately of rabbits.
LOVEDAY. (_Laughing mischievously._) Darling little furry things with
nice white tails!
ROBERT. (_Groans._) But you’re joking! Come and I’ll show you why we
sheep farmers hate ’em like poison.
(_THEY stroll off together. ROTO takes the empty pail and goes off.
NORA and GORDON are left together._)
GORDON. (_Eagerly going, with a possessive air toward NORA._) Oh, it is
wonderful to see you again!
NORA. (_Pertly, teasing him and evidently enjoying it._) Women are
scarce here, I know, but there’s nothing else wonderful about me.
GORDON. For me you are the dream of God which stirs the woodland, you
are--(_noting her unresponsive face_). I say, do sit down. You’ll be
tired after that ride. Let me take your whip. Take your gloves off.
Those little hands must ache after holding the reins for three hours.
NORA. Pooh! I like having the reins in my own hands.
GORDON. And so you should, they are such clever little hands.
NORA. (_Yawns affectedly._) Gordon, you’re a romantic goose.
GORDON. I’m not. Everyone thinks you are wonderful, ask--
NORA. Robert doesn’t think I’m at all wonderful.
GORDON. Of course he does.
NORA. Then why doesn’t he tell me?
GORDON. He--he’s shy. But besides, though all men may _think_ such
things about a girl, they only _say_ them when they love her.
NORA. (_Quizzically._) So _you_ love me?
GORDON. (_Tenderly._) Is it a hundred or a hundred and one times I have
told you so?
NORA. And what have I answered a hundred or a hundred and one times?
GORDON. You have never once said no!
NORA. I didn’t ask you what I didn’t say, but what I _did_ say. And
what did I say?
GORDON. (_Persuasively._) Say something different this time. You can’t
_always_ be cruel, with that sweet face you have.
NORA. Oh, can’t I?
GORDON. Don’t be, then.
NORA. Besides I’m not cruel. You love me. That is very nice for _you_.
Being in love _is_ nice. Isn’t it?
GORDON. Being in love with you would make the world a heaven if only
you were kind!
NORA. I am kind--to myself. Being not in love with you is much kinder
to myself than what you ask. You want _me_ to be happy, don’t you?
GORDON. Of course! I’d die to make you happy!
NORA. I don’t ask _that_. I only ask you not to talk of love.
GORDON. How can I not talk of it when I love you?
NORA. (_Turning away._) Well, if you are willing to die for me, why not
stop loving me?
GORDON. No man could.
NORA. (_Flattered._) ’Um. Perhaps. But a _man_ could stop talking about
it. Talk of something else--anything interesting. What is Robert doing
away so long?
GORDON. (_Checking his tenderness with an effort, speaking in off-hand
tones._) Shewing Miss Loveday the sheep. I say, she’s handsome.
NORA. Oh? _I_ don’t think so. But you will be soon making love to her I
see. I needn’t have worried about your worrying me for long.
GORDON. Don’t say that, Nora. You know you are every beautiful thing to
me. I hear your sweet voice every time the bell bird calls. I see your
hair in the golden clouds after the sunset; I think of you and the home
nest you are making somewhere, particularly when I am out here sleeping
out of doors. You know I never shall think there is anyone in the world
like you.
NORA. (_Peremptorily._) Stop! Where _are_ Robert and Loveday? Call
them, Gordon.
(_GORDON coo-ees. An answer is heard._)
GORDON. (_With a little gust of temper._) You try to prevent us being
alone. You grudge me these few minutes. It is cruel.
NORA. Oh. La-la-la! (_Whistles a snatch of tune._)
(_LOVEDAY and ROBERT return, conversing. LOVEDAY comes quickly across
to NORA._)
LOVEDAY. Oh, Nora, what _lots_ of sheep! And the hills, how beautiful
they are. The air is as clear as crystal and the sky seems so big.
GORDON. You notice that? Isn’t the sky the same size in England, Miss
Loveday?
LOVEDAY. No! The sky in England seems closer down on us than it is
here. Our sky, even when it is blue, is as though all the smoke from
all the chimneys had got on to it and weighed it down a bit.
GORDON. Everything is big here; and mostly beautiful. It makes big
ideas come into one’s head to be so solitary on these wide hills. Big
ideas hover but they won’t settle down into words, so one doesn’t know
clearly what they are.
LOVEDAY. (_Smiling encouragingly._) What are they about, the big ideas?
GORDON. Well, of course at present, about the war. The war is so huge
one needs to be away from it, like we are here, to see how big it is.
LOVEDAY. Yes. I felt that on the voyage out, passing over those miles
and miles of clean, shining blue sea. I’d worked my hardest in a tiny
corner till I had broken down, in London you know, but I didn’t realise
what I had been working at till I was far away on the sea. Then I began
to ache and ache to find some way of doing more for it than I had done.
(_Whimsically._) And as I am on the sick list I seem able to do nothing
at all.
GORDON. But you _have_ done something. I’ve done nothing yet.
LOVEDAY. “Your sheep----.”
GORDON. (_Smiling._) Wool and mutton are useful, I help produce those,
but I must do more, Robert and I will both do more when we see clearly
what we ought to do.
LOVEDAY. That’s a Briton’s attitude.
GORDON. I’ve thought of joining an Expeditionary Force, but they
haven’t called for us yet--and, anyway, I don’t know if that _is_ the
best one can do--to leave all these sheep we are raising, you know.
They _are_ needed.
(_The beautiful note of the bell bird is heard calling through the
wood._)
LOVEDAY. (_Clasping her hands._) What is that? Oh, what is that lovely
note?
ROBERT }
_and_ }
GORDON. } (_Together._) That is the bell bird.
LOVEDAY. Is it wild?
NORA. Of course, it is quite common.
LOVEDAY. How clear and sweet! It is the voice of New Zealand herself,
calling to her sisters all over the world, to wake, wake and sing the
triumphal song of the Empire. That song will cross the waves in a
thousand hearts and echo in the very centre of our lands.
NORA. Don’t be a romantic goose, Loveday. The bell bird is as common as
thrushes are in England.
LOVEDAY. You have so much beauty around you, has it become common to
you?
ROBERT. Of course not, only we don’t say much about it. You at home
don’t pour out poetry over every thrush that sits on a haw-hedge.
LOVEDAY. I would if I could! (_Smiling._) But I’ll try not to make you
think me _too_ great a goose. This beautiful country has gone to my
head perhaps. Everything here seems perfect!
(_Noises without of an arrival on horseback, shepherds’ voices, dogs
barking, etc._
_ROBERT and GORDON look over their shoulders and exchange a knowing
grin._)
ROBERT. I think I hear the voice of _one_ in perfection!
(_ENTER JOHN VARLIE. He is a florid man, with rather bulging eyes,
a clean shaven face, with a noticeable but small triangular scar on
the right cheek, one eyelid slightly more closed than the other. He
wears American clothes and speaks with a strong American accent. He is
accompanied by the shepherds and dogs._)
VARLIE. Waal, boys! Here we are again. I have just delivered your new
shearing gear down at your homestead and they told me down in the
valley I should strike your trail up here, so I flicked up my grey mare
to keep you from feelin’ lonesome without me.
ROBERT. (_Amiably._) Halloo, Varlie. We aren’t lonesome to-day.
VARLIE. (_Looking from one to the other._) The ladies! I just can’t
quit now though I guess I’m as little wanted as a bug in a blanket.
ROBERT. Not a wet blanket anyway.
GORDON. You’re welcome. We’ll show you off. Miss Loveday Lewisham
is fresh out from home and wants to see all the native sights. Miss
Loveday, this is Mr. John Varlie, the universal provider. A regular
conjurer who wafts the appliances of civilisation into our rude
wilderness.
VARLIE. Miss Lewisham, I’m proud to make your acquaintance. Say, cut
that Hyde. I’m no conjurer. I’m a plain business man, and only doing
what any other business man could do if he had the brains.
ROBERT. That’s it. It takes a Yankee to think of selling the goods we
want in this part of the British Empire.
LOVEDAY. What do you want?
VARLIE. (_Slapping his leg._) What I’ve got here, Miss Lewisham.
NORA. (_A little spitefully._) I often thought you used your brains to
make them think they wanted to buy what you wanted to sell.
VARLIE. Aw--come now, Miss Nora. You’re real cute, but you don’t think
I could monkey with British brains?
NORA. (_Lightly._) Well, the British brains in _my_ neighbourhood are
not fair game for you. (_Looks at ROBERT._) They don’t know what they
ought to want (_looks at GORDON_) or they want what they can’t get.
VARLIE. Well, they all ought to have _this_! (_Produces sample tin
opener from his pocket. The SHEPHERDS look eagerly on._) Is there a tin
of food stuff around? Sure-ly?
ROTO. Here you are, Boss.
(_Runs to the shelter and returns with one._)
VARLIE. Now this tin opener won’t only save your breath, but it’ll let
the recording angel have a holiday. See that? (_Has slit the tin round
rapidly and easily._) Can you beat that with any tin opener you ever
set eyes on?
1ST SHEP. Noa. That’ll be a useful kind--if they all work as easy.
2ND SHEP. Aye.
GORDON. Bully for you.
VARLIE. How many will you take? You chaps ought to have one each. And
the ladies! There will be a day when the ladies are alone to get the
supper, none of you handy Herculeses around. With this opener, getting
the supper is as easy as smiling. Now then! Only sixpence each. Finest
American non-rusting steel.
NORA. Fancy wasting your time with such a trifle, Mr. Varlie.
VARLIE. Don’t fret. I ain’t wastin’ my time. I came around your
homestead with the big dump of machinery. And I am like the elephant’s
trunk, calculated to pull up a tree or pick up a pin. (_Laughter._) I’m
picking up more than you think, maybe.
LOVEDAY. (_Smiling and counting the people._) One, two, three, why
there are six of us, if we have one each all round! You don’t mean to
tell me that you have six tin openers in your pocket?
VARLIE. Yep. ’N I’ve got a pack horse over there with sixty on it, and
sixty dozen in Dunedin, and sixty thousand where they came from! Now,
you’ll have one, Miss?
LOVEDAY. Yes, I will.
VARLIE. Bully. And you--
(_GORDON takes it half laughing._)
GORDON. All right.
VARLIE. And you--
ROBERT. Not I. My jack knife has a claw that’s good enough for me.
VARLIE. Now, Mr. Hyde, just let me....
(_Leads ROBERT aside and tries to persuade him. Meanwhile there is a
clatter without as of several horses arriving. A RECRUITING OFFICER
and two or three YOUNG MEN, all in khaki ENTER as if just from
horseback after a long ride._
_VARLIE steps aside whispering with 1ST SHEPHERD._)
RE. OFF. Hey, lads. They told me I should find a covey of you here.
Fine! I’m glad we struck your camp. Whew! We’re dead thirsty! Have you
got any tea?
GORDON. Sure. Those kettles are boiling. We’ll have tea in a jiffy.
ROBERT. Where are you going?
RE. OFF. Zig-zagging cross country to the outlying stations.
(_VARLIE aside, whispering with 1ST SHEPHERD. The word “Germany” is
overheard._)
1ST SHEP. (_Indignantly._) Are you askin’ who around here sympathises
with Germany?
VARLIE. (_Annoyed._) No, no, you fool! You ain’t got me square! (_Shuts
up note-book with a snap and turns away._)
1ST SHEP. Are you square?
VARLIE. (_Tipping him._) Here’s to prove it. (_The SHEPHERD takes the
money, but looks rather distrustfully at VARLIE. They separate._)
NORA. (_To RECRUITING OFFICER._) My! But you look fine! That’s the
first khaki we’ve seen round here.
RE. OFF. It’ll not be the last, Miss. Khaki breeds khaki.
ROTO. (_Chuckles. Suddenly, to ROBERT._) He is the colour of a rabbit,
Boss, that’s why.
ROBERT. Shut up, you fool. This is serious.
LOVEDAY. (_Laughs._) Rabbits? (_She looks mischievously at ROBERT._)
GORDON. Sit down and have tea first, and then tell us all about it.
RE. OFF. Thanks. (_To his MEN._) You may sit down too, lads. We’ve
ridden hard. But first water the horses.
(_One of his MEN goes out with pails, assisted by ROTO. Splashing and
champing sounds are heard. In a few minutes THEY return and sit with
the rest._)
ROBERT. Are you recruiting?
RE. OFF. You’ve hit it, my lad. (_Takes off his hat and wipes his
forehead._)
NORA. Let’s see your hat. It is smart.
RE. OFF. (_Flattered, passes it._) There, miss.
(_NORA leans over to LOVEDAY and they examine it together. NORA takes
off her own and coquettishly tries it on, catches ROBERT’S eye, he
smiles and looks away; catches GORDON’S eye, he gazes admiringly at
her, she tosses her head and takes the hat off. Mugs of tea are handed
round, the men drink thirstily._)
VARLIE. (_Remaining, eagerly listening, leans over to RECRUITING
OFFICER._) Say, stranger, are you getting along well with your job?
RE. OFF. (_Keenly._) And who are you?
VARLIE. Waal, I guess it can’t be hard for you to lay your finger on
the name of my country.
RE. OFF. I asked you.
VARLIE. I’m an Amurrican.
RE. OFF. Passports all right?
VARLIE. (_Affecting laziness, drawing them out._) I should say.
(_RECRUITING OFFICER examines them, looks at him keenly, and passes
them back._)
ROBERT. _He’s_ all right, Officer! We have had him around the station
many a time.
NORA. He’s the only man with brains enough to sell us the things we
want.
ROBERT. He has brains enough to sell us the things we _don’t_ want.
RE. OFF. Brains are always suspicious.
ROBERT. Oh, I say! That’s being _too_ British! _He’s_ all right. _Some_
straight men have brains.
GORDON. And lots of straight men are muddled headed enough to think
that wasting peoples time making a lot of truck nobody wants is good
for trade.
RE. OFF. Pardon. This tea’s good. Have you more, Missy?
NORA. As much as _you_ want--Officer! Is that what I should call you?
RE. OFF. That’ll do for me fine, Missy.
NORA. Fill up the kettle, Roto.
RE. OFF. Now my men. ’tenshun. (_All three rise._) We’ll have our
meeting.
(_ROTO returns, and he and the SHEPHERDS crowd eagerly behind the
others listening._)
LOVEDAY. But we seem like friends now, are you going to give us a
formal speech?
RE. OFF. When we speak of our King and Country we stand up to it like
men, Miss.
LOVEDAY. Then _so_ do we.
(_She springs up. All rise and stand round the RECRUITING OFFICER who
is flanked by his own men._)
RE. OFF. God Save the King.
ALL. God Save the King.
(_A fleeting sneer is seen on VARLIE’S face, but he shouts louder than
any._)
RE. OFF. (_Oratorically._) We have lived in New Zealand, some for
years, some of us all our lives, and we know what New Zealand means to
us. And most of us also know the Old Dart, know her and love her.
SEVERAL. Hear, hear!
LOVEDAY. (_Whispering._) The Old Dart, what’s that?
ROBERT. (_Smiling down on her._) That’s England, Great Britain, our pet
name for the Old Country.
RE. OFF. Now the Old Dart’s in trouble, fighting for her life--and, my
lads, it’s not only her life, it’s _our_ life, too, she’s fighting for.
Like a mother fightin’ for her young. And, she’s not only fightin for
her young, which is us, she is fightin’ for the world! for decency, and
truth, for liberty.
ALL. (_Increasingly enthusiastic._) Hear, hear! That’s right. Bravo.
RE. OFF. She’s fightin’ for liberty, fightin’ so that promises shall be
kept between nations as decent men keep ’em between each other.
(_A murmur of assent._)
You know if your neighbours were all the time to lie to you over
everything they promised to do, you would never be able to keep going
with them. Like a man, you’d have to up and show ’em what’s what. And
that’s what the Old Dart is doing, and it is a big fight. But it is
going on in Europe, which is more than 10,000 miles away from us. You
may ask what has it all to do with _us_?
ROBERT }
_and_ }
GORDON.} Not us. We know. We _don’t_ ask what it has to do with us!
RE. OFF. (_Hesitates as if thrown off his track._) Then you don’t need
my speech. (_Suddenly brightens and smiles appealingly._) Don’t spoil
my speech lads. Pretend to ask so you can hear it. It will make you
feel real grand.
ROBERT }
_and_ }
GORDON.} Fire away then. Hear, hear!
ROTO. (_Excited._) That’s it, Mister. Give it us.
RE. OFF. (_Continues more eloquently._) Now we are New Zealanders, and
we live in this free and happy land, you may ask, what has all this
trouble in Europe to do with us?
ROBERT, }
GORDON }
_and the_ }
SHEPHERDS. } Hear! Hear! We do, we do ask!
RE. OFF. (_Very effectively._) But I answer you lads, what language do
we speak? English! What race are we? Britons! Why, lads, the British
over there aren’t as British as we are; They are English and Scotch
and Irish and Welsh--but what are we? All these British strains mixed!
Most of us have some Scotch blood and some English blood and some
Irish blood mixed in our veins, many of us have been to other parts of
Britain and got a touch of Canada, or Australia, or South Africa into
us. I say lads we are _more_ British than the folks in the Old Dart. We
are a fine blend of all the flavours of different Britons, we are the
very essence of Britain! We are epitomes of Empire.
ALL. (_Enthusiastic._) Hurray, that’s right. Hear, hear! Go it!
ROTO. (_Particularly enthusiastic._) We are, we are, hear, hear, Boss!
1ST SHEP. (_Digging ROTO in the ribs._) Ho, Ho!
RE. OFF. Do I need to tell you it’s a righteous war?
GORDON. We know that!
ROBERT. Shut up, let him give us his speech!
RE. OFF. (_Smiling._) I wasn’t going into that. I don’t have to tell
our lads it’s a righteous war. I only asked it like a rhetorical
question this time.
ROTO. Go on, Boss, go on. You speak most as fine as a Maori chief.
RE. OFF. Now, if Britons are engaged in this war, _we_ are engaged, for
are we not the Britons of the British? We are. And lads, I will tell
you, in the words of our own Prime Minister, Mr. Massey himself, I say
to you that “_All that we have and are is staked upon the issue of the
war!_”
ALL. (_Tremendous enthusiasm._) Hear, hear, bravo, hurrah!
(_A roar of sound drowns the actual words. VARLIE shouts, but has
a slight sneering smile on his lips as he watches the generous
enthusiasm of the others._)
RE. OFF. Now lads, you know we are free Britons in this country. We
expect every New Zealander will do his duty because he’s glad, aye and
proud to do it. You are all only waiting to be told what to do. We have
no compulsion. But when you know what we are going to do, you’ll all
want to join in.
SHEPHERDS. Tell us Mister.
RE. OFF. We are a small nation. Only about a million souls of us
altogether, counting women and children. Now that’s very small as
nations go. But what are we going to do? We are going to put a larger
number of troops in the field than the British had in the great battle
of Waterloo!
(_ALL at first incredulous, then wildly enthusiastic._)
RE. OFF. Aye, Aye, lads. Well may you shout. That’s what comes of being
New Zealand Britons. But we are going to do more. We are going to do
what the experts tell us is the most possible that any nation _can_
do; in three years we are going to have ten per cent. of our total
population in the field! That’s the maximum, the absolute scientific
limit of what any nation _can_ put in. And that means from our little
country we shall send one hundred thousand men to the field.
ALL. Hurray, hurray!
LOVEDAY. (_Glowing._) How splendid, how splendid you are!
RE. OFF. That’s it Missy, that’s how New Zealand women take it.
ROBERT. She’s English, she’s just visiting from home!
RE. OFF. From the Old Dart? Our men’ll follow you back Missy, all of us
would like to, only the years have passed over some, and that ties ’em.
When the years press on your shoulders you can’t carry the knapsack
too! And I see some of you chaps are too old.
1ST SHEP. (_Groans._) I am, curse the day I was born.
RE. OFF. But all of you, every one of you has your part to play. If
you can’t fight you can _save_. That’s what the people of New Zealand
haven’t realised yet. How many of our patriots have reduced their
consumption of petrol or of beer by a single gallon because of their
patriotism? Yet that is what they must do. That’s what we all must do.
Men must fight
And women must save
The path of glory for Britons to pave.
(_LOVEDAY and GORDON stand a little apart and are talking._)
GORDON. Ah, this stirs one! I wonder if _this_ is what I ought to do?
LOVEDAY. (_Smilingly shakes her head._) I don’t know.
GORDON. A man has only one life. That’s all he _can_ give to his
country.
LOVEDAY. But the thousands of sheep you raise may be even more useful!
(_mischievously_). It is a question you know--is one man as much use to
his country as his ten thousand sheep?
GORDON. Old men can raise sheep.
RE. OFF. (_Louder, catching all eyes._) And now to come to the fighting
element. I’ve just said, all of you can do _something_. But those of
you who can fight are wanted now. Have you seen this paper? (_Takes
official set of questions out of his pocket._)
MEN. (_Shaking their heads._) No. What is it?
RE. OFF. Then I’ll read it to you. It is addressed to all men between
nineteen and forty-five. Which of you are between nineteen and
forty-five?
GORDON. (_Looks across at LOVEDAY and says to her alone._) That’s a
direct message to me.
(_GORDON, ROBERT, ROTO and the 2ND SHEPHERD stand out, each saying “I
am!”_)
RE. OFF. (_Slapping ROTO on the shoulder._) How old are you?
ROTO. (_Quickly._) Forty-five, Mister.
RE. OFF. Open your mouth.
(_ROTO opens and shows browned teeth._)
RE. OFF. (_Laughing._) Forty-five, with that hair and those teeth!
ROTO. (_Protesting._) I am, I am. My hair gone pale when I was nearly
drowned in the Rotorua hot spring.
RE. OFF. Get out.
ROTO. (_Persistently._) I’m strong man. I’m young man, see my muscle.
Feel my arm.
RE. OFF. You are not a Pakeha. You can’t fight with the Pakeha.
LOVEDAY. (_To NORA._) What is Pakeha? What does he mean?
NORA. Pakeha are white men, Englishmen.
ROTO. (_Protesting._) My father was a Queen-Maori.
RE. OFF. Was he? That’s good.
LOVEDAY. Whatever is a Queen-Maori?
RE. OFF. In the great war, missy, the Maori war, the Maoris who fought
on the side of the English, under Queen Victoria, you know, they were
called Queen-Maoris.
ROTO. My father fought with Pakeha then, why not me to-day? Take me.
I am strong like the branches of the Kauri pine. I am hard as my
hei-tiki. My father was a Queen-Maori. I will be a Queen-Maori and
fight for you. Take me.
RE. OFF. You are too old. You are sixty years old if you are a minute.
ROTO. No, no.
RE. OFF. (_To the 1ST SHEPHERD._) He is on your station, isn’t he? How
old is he?
1ST SHEP. Well, we don’t know exactly. But it is about six years ago
since we had a feast and a good drink because he said it was his
fiftieth birthday.
RE. OFF. There! Stand aside my man. If you are so strong you must do
the work the young men leave behind them.
(_ROTO protests, and expresses chagrin but says no more._)
RE. OFF. (_To GORDON not noticing his lameness as he stands with the
others._) How old are you, sir?
GORDON. Twenty-nine.
RE. OFF. (_To ROBERT._) And you, sir?
ROBERT. Thirty-one.
RE. OFF. Good! (_To 2ND SHEPHERD._) And you?
2ND SHEP. Forty-two.
RE. OFF. H’m. You look more.
2ND SHEP. I’m forty-two (_glares_.)
RE. OFF. (_Feeling his arm and looking at him._) H’m. Well. Now lads.
On this paper are the following questions addressed specially to you
as you are between nineteen and forty-five. Question A. Have you
volunteered for military service beyond New Zealand as a member of an
Expeditionary Force in connection with the present war? If so, have you
been accepted for service or rejected?
ALL THREE. No. No, Boss. No.
RE. OFF. Well, Question B. If you have _not_ volunteered for service,
are you, being a single man without dependants, willing to become a
member of an Expeditionary Force? or (2) Are you--? By the way, let’s
settle that first. Are you all single men?
ALL THREE. Yes. Yes. Yes, sir.
RE. OFF. Then I needn’t read the alternative questions. Are you willing
to become members of an Expeditionary Force?
ALL THREE. Yes.
RE. OFF. That’s right, lads. Now I’ll be honest with you, and tell you
that all the law asks of you is to sign copies of this paper and send
them in--you will get them officially in a few days maybe--but that’s
not what _I’m_ here for, to get from you a mere scrap of paper with a
promise for the future on it. I’m here to get you yourselves, lads,
now. That’s better fitted to a Briton than to write his name on a bit
of paper, and to go back to his ordinary job! He that puts his hand
to the plough and turns back--you know what it says in the Bible. You
lads, and I, have got acquainted this afternoon, and I know you’re not
_that_ kind.
ALL THREE. No! We are not! We’ll come now, right now!
ROBERT. (_Taking a step forward._) I’ll come at once. That’s square.
(_Looking at LOVEDAY and smiling._) Can you fit me out in khaki right
now, Officer?
RE. OFF. The doctor’ll have to examine you (_indicating one of the men
with him_) and you’ll have to take the oath.
ROBERT. Yes, yes. Surely you have an extra uniform handy!
RE. OFF. (_Smiling._) It’s very irregular, sir. We’ll see later, step
aside.
GORDON. Now me.
RE. OFF. (_Examines him more carefully. Speaking kindly._) Step across
to me, sir.
(_GORDON tries to conceal his limp as much as possible, but of course
fails._)
RE. OFF. (_Shaking his head._) No good, sir. Why, you’re lame!
GORDON. Hardly at all. And I’m strong! I’ve never been ill. I can ride
day and night in the saddle. I’d join the mounted rifles!
RE. OFF. Not a bit of good, sir.
GORDON. (_Unbelieving._) I’m the right age. I’m strong. I can ride like
a cow-boy. I can shoot better than my brother.
ROBERT. That’s so.
RE. OFF. Your bit is not at the front.
LOVEDAY. Oh, officer. Is it impossible? It is such a _trifling_ limp.
(_GORDON looks acutely distressed but smiles bravely and very
gratefully at LOVEDAY._)
RE. OFF. Not a bit more good than if _you_ was to ask, Missy.
GORDON. (_Half stammering in his eagerness._) You must take me,
_somehow_ or other. You must. I can shoot. I never miss my aim! What
is the good of coming here and rousing us all up with your talk of
soldiering if you won’t take the best shot in the place?
RE. OFF. (_Kindly._) You’ll do no fighting, sir.
GORDON. (_Overcome._) Curse the tree that staked me! Curse the fools
that didn’t heal me square!
(_There is an awkward silence. He flings up to NORA, who is a little
apart from the rest, his eyes blazing._)
GORDON. Nora, what do you say? Aren’t I fit to go?
NORA. (_Calmly._) Of course not, Gordon. I can’t think how you could
have expected--
GORDON. (_Wildly._) Now I see why you never loved me! You’ve teased me
often enough. I’ve made love like a man, but to you, to _you_ I was
never a man! I see it now. You all think me useless. You don’t look on
me as a _man_!
(_A tense pause, LOVEDAY and ROBERT look rather awkwardly distressed._)
NORA. (_Somewhat cowed._) Don’t be silly.
ROBERT. I say, old chap, don’t take it so hard.
GORDON. Wouldn’t you take it hard if both your country and the woman
you love told you plainly you were mere useless rubbish?
LOVEDAY. (_Pitifully._) Perhaps you will find a still greater thing to
do for your country. It is not _only_ fighters she needs.
GORDON. (_His lips quivering._) You are kind. But, oh God!--
(_He goes toward shelter away from the OTHERS and aimlessly unfolds
the blankets, folds them up again, and re-arranges the pile; opens
them out and re-folds them, and so on._
_Meanwhile, the RECRUITING OFFICER has quietly asked questions of the
2ND SHEPHERD, whose answers are satisfactory._
_LOVEDAY looks from one to the other, then sits brooding, glancing
pitifully at GORDON from time to time._
_While this is going on, the RECRUITING OFFICER takes ROBERT and the
2ND SHEPHERD out, followed by the men with him, leaving NORA, 1ST
SHEPHERD, ROTO and VARLIE in a group. LOVEDAY a little apart._)
ROTO. (_Grumbling, to 1ST SHEPHERD._) You have a black heart, you
Pakeha tutua.
1ST SHEP. Trying to lie about your age? You are older than I am.
ROTO. Why not lie about your age, too?
1ST SHEP. What would become of the sheep if I went off? Are the sheep
to die on the hills because the Germans are scurvy dogs? And the best
lot of sheep we have had, too, since I’ve been on the station!
NORA. When will you black fellows learn not to tell lies? What is the
good of telling lies any way, when you are always found out?
ROTO. I wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t wagged his tongue! And to tell
a bit of a lie so to give your life, that’s no lie.
VARLIE. Ah, Miss Nora, don’t try to stamp out necessary lying. The
world would be in a queer way if none of us told lies once in a way.
I’ll wager you this patent button hook you tell lies yourself now and
then. Little ones!
NORA. (_Smiling._) Oh, well--when I say I’m glad to see you, for
instance, that’s not a lie. It doesn’t take you in!
VARLIE. Freeze on to the button hook, Miss Nora. I’ve won my wager. It
is only sixpence.
NORA. (_Tosses it back to him._) What are you dreaming about, Loveday?
LOVEDAY. Before ever I met you all--for months past--I have been
thinking about Gordon’s problem. What is one who cannot fight to do for
our country?
NORA. Save, as you said yourself.
LOVEDAY. It isn’t only fighting and saving the nation’s needs. It needs
_thinking_. Wouldn’t it be splendid to see a man’s strength and his
brains put into thinking that might save thousands of lives in the time
to come.
VARLIE. People who talk about thinking are generally fools. The wise
man thinks his hardest how to conceal what he is thinking.
LOVEDAY. (_Swiftly and scornfully._) That’s a worldly man, whose
thoughts are grasping. I was dreaming of a man whose thoughts would be
_gifts_.
VARLIE. Thoughts are pretty cheap gifts.
LOVEDAY. Is there anything we possess that did not grow from a thought?
Isn’t the freedom in your country the result of the thought of the men
who framed your Constitution? Isn’t all law, all order, all happiness,
thought, or the results of it?
VARLIE. Huh! That’s too deep for me.
NORA. (_Reproving._) You are such a dreamer, Loveday. It’s so woolly to
dream, stop it.
LOVEDAY. My dreams are beginning to clear. If no one had ever thought,
we would be savages still. All human beings would be tearing out each
other’s eyes, always.
VARLIE. Yep. But talking about _my_ thoughts is not my job.
(_Yawning._) I must be getting along. When are those fellows going to
start?
(_Sounds of cheering and laughter and trampling without. ROBERT
comes swaggering on in a Khaki uniform with hat jauntily tilted. He
is followed by the 2ND SHEPHERD with Badge and Armlet. RECRUITING
OFFICER and his MEN follow, grinning. The group round the fire start
up. All crowd round ROBERT shouting, admiring and patting him on the
back. ROBERT goes up to LOVEDAY and salutes her, she smiles at him
cheerily._)
LOVEDAY. Bravo! How fine you look!
(_She looks past him however, to where GORDON is wistfully watching
the group, and mastering himself to come forward. She smiles very
sweetly and encouragingly at GORDON. The sky slowly takes on sunset
tints._)
NORA. (_To ROBERT._) Give me one of your buttons. I’ll wear it.
ROBERT. (_Putting her off, with forced gaiety._) With the officer
looking? Shame on you!
NORA. (_To RECRUITING OFFICER._) A man who’s enlisted is allowed to
give away _one_ button, isn’t he?
RE. OFF. (_Smiling._) One--only one--to the girl he loves.
NORA. (_Invitingly._) Now, Robert, you hear!
(_GORDON overhears this and waits eagerly for ROBERT’S answer._)
ROBERT. (_Laughs and comically struts._) Don’t shear my feathers off me
yet!
NORA. (_To VARLIE._) Men _are_ vain.
VARLIE. Take one of _my_ buttons! (_Holds out his coat._)
NORA. (_Eyes flashing._) When you’re in khaki!
GORDON. (_Pulling himself together, holds out his hand to ROBERT,
speaks huskily._) Good luck, old chap, the best of luck!
(_LOVEDAY looks proudly at GORDON._)
ROBERT. (_Claps GORDON’S shoulder with his free hand._) Keep the
station going till I come back, sonny.
GORDON. I will, Robert.
ROBERT. _If_ I come back!
NORA. (_Excitedly._) Of course you will. You’ll come back with a V.C.,
won’t he, lads?
ALL. Of course. He’s just the make of a hero. Hurrah! Bravo!
(_ALL crowd round him shouting and singing snatches of “Rule
Britannia, God Save the King,” etc._
_The sunset is crimson by now._)
ROBERT. Look at the sky! Come, we must be getting back.
(_ALL follow him, marching, waving branches, etc., singing, “See the
Conquering hero comes.” The rest troop off, but ROBERT turns and goes
up to LOVEDAY who is lingering and keeps her apart._)
ROBERT. Wait a minute, won’t you?
LOVEDAY. Yes? Of course, what is it?
ROBERT. (_Shyly._) I say, I--won’t you--(_he takes out his jack knife
and cuts off a button, offering it to her_) I say, won’t you, won’t you
wear it, just to bring me luck?
LOVEDAY. (_Hesitates._) Oh--I--
ROBERT. Of course I don’t mean--to--to bother you in any way. I mean it
only in--in friendship! Just to bring me luck. Do! There’s nothing in
it--nothing silly--like what _they_ said.
LOVEDAY. (_Smiling, very charmingly._) Shall I sew it on again for you?
ROBERT. Oh! If you _won’t_ have it--you may sew it on if I may keep my
coat on while you are doing it!
LOVEDAY. Very well. Heroes have to be humoured, I suppose. Come along,
it’s getting late!
(_THEY follow the others, as she is going off she looks back and sends
a compassionate glance towards GORDON._
_The sky rapidly darkens. GORDON stays behind, waits till they are
all out of sight, then he throws himself face down on the ground,
clenching his hands and moving as though in pain. The bell bird’s
clear sweet note is heard. He lies in silence then groans aloud._)
GORDON. To both my country and the woman I love, I’m not a man. I’m
lumber--useless lumber! Nora! Nora!
(_GORDON crouches in despair. The stage is now dusky, a pale moon
shows. Softly, without any noise, between the trunks of two tall trees
appears behind him the upper part of a white figure, with the forehead
and head half covered by a floating white veil; the face is tender
and grave, the eyes glowing as if inspired. In the shadowy light the
figure looks like a vision. GORDON does not recognise that it is
LOVEDAY. He slowly, as if mesmerised, rises on to his knees. There is
a sweet low call of the bell bird far away. Stillness for a moment.
LOVEDAY stands silent between the trees._)
GORDON. (_Still half kneeling, speaking in awed tones._) You are a
spirit?
(_LOVEDAY is quite still._)
GORDON. You are the goddess of the woods come to me in my pain! Tell
me, you beautiful, you wonderful--tell me, what have I to do? Speak to
me, speak to me!
(_LOVEDAY does not move; in a soft, penetrating voice, she intones,
like a chant._)
LOVEDAY. The bodies of men that can fight are mown down like the grass.
The body of one young man, even if he is a prince among men cannot
slay more than a hundred of his enemies.
But by thought a man’s brain might conceive of a way to kill or to
save hundreds of thousands.
Now is the time for a Briton to arise who can slay with his great
thought all the enemies of the future.
Now is the time for one to bring forth a noble plan, so that all the
treacherous aggressors shall be for ever disarmed and the peaceful
nations be for ever free from fear of onslaught.
(_She draws the veil across her face, takes a step back into the dusk
and vanishes._)
GORDON. (_Exalted and trembling with eagerness._) Angel! Goddess! Tell
me--how--
(_She does not return and makes no sound._)
_Slowly the CURTAIN descends._