Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг
The Story of the Gadsbys
MRS. H. I think you have said it once or twice before. You’re growing very careful of my feelings. My God, Pip, I was a good woman once! You said I was. You’ve made me what I am. What are you going to do with me? What are you going to do with me? Won’t you say that you are sorry? (Helps herself to iced asparagus.)
CAPT. G. I am sorry for you, if you Want the pity of such a brute as I am. I’m awf’ly sorry for you.
MRS. H. Rather tame for a man of the world. Do you think that that admission clears you?
CAPT. G. What can I do? I can only tell you what I think of myself. You can’t think worse than that?
MRS. H. Oh, yes, I can! And now, will you tell me the reason of all this? Remorse? Has Bayard been suddenly conscience-stricken?
CAPT. G. (Angrily, his eyes still lowered.) No! The thing has come to an end on my side. That’s all. Mafisch!
MRS. H. “That’s all. Mafisch!” As though I were a Cairene Dragoman. You used to make prettier speeches. D’you remember when you said? —
CAPT. G. For Heaven’s sake don’t bring that back! Call me anything you like and I’ll admit it —
MRS. H. But you don’t care to be reminded of old lies? If I could hope to hurt you one-tenth as much as you have hurt me to-night – No, I wouldn’t – I couldn’t do it – liar though you are.
CAPT. G. I’ve spoken the truth.
MRS. H. My dear Sir, you flatter yourself. You have lied over the reason. Pip, remember that I know you as you don’t know yourself. You have been everything to me, though you are – (Fan-guard.) Oh, what a contemptible Thing it is! And so you are merely tired of me?
CAPT. G. Since you insist upon my repeating it – Yes.
MRS. H. Lie the first. I wish I knew a coarser word. Lie seems so in-effectual in your case. The fire has just died out and there is no fresh one? Think for a minute, Pip, if you care whether I despise you more than I do. Simply Mafisch, is it?
CAPT. G. Yes. (Aside.) I think I deserve this.
MRS. H. Lie number two. Before the next glass chokes you, tell me her name.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) I’ll make her pay for dragging Minnie into the business! (Aloud.) Is it likely?
MRS. H. Very likely if you thought that it would flatter your vanity. You’d cry my name on the house-tops to make people turn round.
CAPT. G. I wish I had. There would have been an end to this business.
MRS. H. Oh, no, there would not – And so you were going to be virtuous and blase’, were you? To come to me and say: “I’ve done with you. The incident is clo-osed.” I ought to be proud of having kept such a man so long.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) It only remains to pray for the end of the dinner. (Aloud.) You know what I think of myself.
MRS. H. As it’s the only person in he world you ever do think of, and as I know your mind thoroughly, I do. You want to get it all over and – Oh, I can’t keep you back! And you’re going – think of it, Pip – to throw me over for another woman. And you swore that all other women were – Pip, my Pip! She can’t care for you as I do. Believe me, she can’t. Is it any one that I know?
CAPT. G. Thank Goodness it isn’t. (Aside.) I expected a cyclone, but not an earthquake.
MRS. H. She can’t! Is there anything that I wouldn’t do for you – or haven’t done? And to think that I should take this trouble over you, knowing what you are! Do you despise me for it?
CAPT. G. (Wiping his mouth to hide a smile.) Again? It’s entirely a work of charity on your part.
MRS. H. Ahhh! But I have no right to resent it. – Is she better-looking than I? Who was it said? —
CAPT. G. No – not that!
MRS. H. I’ll be more merciful than you were. Don’t you know that all women are alike?
CAPT. G. (Aside.) Then this is the exception that proves the rule.
MRS. H. All of them! I’ll tell you anything you like. I will, upon my word! They only want the admiration – from anybody – no matter who – anybody! But there is always one man that they care for more than any one else in the world, and would sacrifice all the others to. Oh, do listen! I’ve kept the Vaynor man trotting after me like a poodle, and he believes that he is the only man I am interested in. I’ll tell you what he said to me.
CAPT. G. Spare him. (Aside.) I wonder what his version is.
MRS. H. He’s been waiting for me to look at him all through dinner. Shall I do it, and you can see what an idiot he looks?
CAPT. G. “But what imports the nomination of this gentleman?”
MRS. H. Watch! (Sends a glance to the Vaynor man, who tries vainly to combine a mouthful of ice pudding, a smirk of self-satisfaction, a glare of intense devotion, and the stolidity of a British dining countenance.)
CAPT. G. (Critically.) He doesn’t look pretty. Why didn’t you wait till the spoon was out of his mouth?
MRS. H. To amuse you. She’ll make an exhibition of you as I’ve made of him; and people will laugh at you. Oh, Pip, can’t you see that? It’s as plain as the noonday Sun. You’ll be trotted about and told lies, and made a fool of like the others. I never made a fool of you, did I?
CAPT. G. (Aside.) What a clever little woman it is!
MRS. H. Well, what have you to say?
CAPT. G. I feel better.
MRS. H. Yes, I suppose so, after I have come down to your level. I couldn’t have done it if I hadn’t cared for you so much. I have spoken the truth.
CAPT. G. It doesn’t alter the situation.
MRS. H. (Passionately.) Then she has said that she cares for you! Don’t believe her, Pip. It’s a lie – as bad as yours to me!
CAPT. G. Ssssteady! I’ve a notion that a friend of yours is looking at you.
MRS. H. He! I hate him. He introduced you to me.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) And some people would like women to assist in making the laws. Introduction to imply condonement. (Aloud.) Well, you see, if you can remember so far back as that, I couldn’t, in’ common politeness, refuse the offer.
MRS. H. In common politeness I We have got beyond that!
CAPT. G. (Aside.) Old ground means fresh trouble. (Aloud.) On my honor
MRS. H. Your what? Ha, ha!
CAPT. G. Dishonor, then. She’s not what you imagine. I meant to —
MRS. H. Don’t tell me anything about her! She won’t care for you, and when you come back, after having made an exhibition of yourself, you’ll find me occupied with —
CAPT. G. (Insolently.) You couldn’t while I am alive. (Aside.) If that doesn’t bring her pride to her rescue, nothing will.
MRS. H. (Drawing herself up.) Couldn’t do it? I’ (Softening.) You’re right. I don’t believe I could – though you are what you are – a coward and a liar in grain.
CAPT. G. It doesn’t hurt so much after your little lecture – with demonstrations.
MRS. H. One mass of vanity! Will nothing ever touch you in this life? There must be a Hereafter if it’s only for the benefit of – But you will have it all to yourself.
CAPT. G. (Under his eyebrows.) Are you certain of that?
MRS. H. I shall have had mine in this life; and it will serve me right.
CAPT. G. But the admiration that you insisted on so strongly a moment ago? (Aside.) Oh, I am a brute!
MRS. H. (Fiercely.) Will that con-sole me for knowing that you will go to her with the same words, the same arguments, and the – the same pet names you used to me? And if she cares for you, you two will laugh over my story. Won’t that be punishment heavy enough even for me – even for me? – And it’s all useless. That’s another punishment.
CAPT. G. (Feebly.) Oh, come! I’m not so low as you think.
MRS. H. Not now, perhaps, but you will be. Oh, Pip, if a woman flatters your vanity, there’s nothing on earth that you would not tell her; and no meanness that you would not do. Have I known you so long without knowing that?
CAPT. G. If you can trust me in nothing else – and I don’t see why I should be trusted – you can count upon my holding my tongue.
MRS. H. If you denied everything you’ve said this evening and declared it was all in’ fun (a long pause), I’d trust you. Not otherwise. All I ask is, don’t tell her my name. Please don’t. A man might forget: a woman never would. (Looks up table and sees hostess beginning to collect eyes.) So it’s all ended, through no fault of mine – Haven’t I behaved beautifully? I’ve accepted your dismissal, and you managed it as cruelly as you could, and I have made you respect my sex, haven’t I? (Arranging gloves and fan.) I only pray that she’ll know you some day as I know you now. I wouldn’t be you then, for I think even your conceit will be hurt. I hope she’ll pay you back the humiliation you’ve brought on me. I hope – No. I don’t! I can’t give you up! I must have something to look forward to or I shall go crazy. When it’s all over, come back to me, come back to me, and you’ll find that you’re my Pip still!
CAPT. G. (Very clearly.) False move, and you pay for it. It’s a girl!
MRS. H. (Rising.) Then it was true! They said – but I wouldn’t insult you by asking. A girl! I was a girl not very long ago. Be good to her, Pip. I daresay she believes in’ you.
Goes out with an uncertain smile. He watches her through the door, and settles into a chair as the men redistribute themselves.
CAPT. G. Now, if there is any Power who looks after this world, will He kindly tell me what I have done? (Reaching out for the claret, and half aloud.) What have I done?
WITH ANY AMAZEMENT
And are not afraid with any amazement. – Marriage Service
SCENE. – A bachelor’s bedroom-toilet-table arranged with unnatural neatness. CAPTAIN GADSBY asleep and snoring heavily. Time, 10:30 A. M. – a glorious autumn day at Simla. Enter delicately Captain MAFFLIN of GADSBY’s regiment. Looks at sleeper, and shakes his head murmuring “Poor Gaddy.” Performs violent fantasia with hair-brushes on chairback.
CAPT. M. Wake up, my sleeping beauty! (Roars.)
“Uprouse ye, then, my merry merry men! It is our opening day! It is our opening da-ay!”
Gaddy, the little dicky-birds have been billing and cooing for ever so long; and I’m here!
CAPT. G. (Sitting up and yawning.) ‘Mornin’. This is awf’ly good of you, old fellow. Most awf’ly good of you. ‘Don’t know what I should do without you. ‘Pon my soul, I don’t. ‘Haven’t slept a wink all night.
CAPT. M. I didn’t get in till half-past eleven. ‘Had a look at you then, and you seemed to be sleeping as soundly as a condemned criminal.
CAPT. G. Jack, if you want to make those disgustingly worn-out jokes, you’d better go away. (With portentous gravity.) It’s the happiest day in my life.
CAPT. M. (Chuckling grimly.) Not by a very long chalk, my son. You’re going through some of the most refined torture you’ve ever known. But be calm. I am with you. ‘Shun! Dress!
CAPT. G. Eh! Wha-at?
CAPT. M. Do you suppose that you are your own master for the next twelve hours? If you do, of course-(Makes for the door.)
CAPT. G. No! For Goodness’ sake, old man, don’t do that! You’ll see through, won’t you? I’ve been mugging up that beastly drill, and can’t remember a line of it.
CAPT. M. (Overturning G.‘s uniform.) Go and tub. Don’t bother me. I’ll give you ten minutes to dress in.
(Interval, filled by the noise as of one splashing in the bath-room.)
CAPT. G. (Emerging from dressing-room.) What time is it?
CAPT. M. Nearly eleven.
CAPT. G. Five hours more. O Lord!
CAPT. M. (Aside.) ‘First sign of funk, that. ‘Wonder if it’s going to spread. (Aloud.) Come along to breakfast.
CAPT. G. I can’t eat anything. I don’t want any breakfast.
CAPT. M. (Aside.) So early! (Aloud) CAPTAIN Gadsby, I order you to eat breakfast, and a dashed good breakfast, too. None of your bridal airs and graces with me!
Leads G. downstairs and stands over him while he eats two chops.
CAPT. G. (Who has looked at his watch thrice in the last five minutes.) What time is it?
CAPT. M. Time to come for a walk. Light up.
CAPT. G. I haven’t smoked for ten days, and I won’t now. (Takes cheroot which M. has cut for him, and blows smoke through his nose luxuriously.) We aren’t going down the Mall, are we?
CAPT. M. (Aside.) They’re all alike in these stages. (Aloud.) No, my Vestal. We’re going along the quietest road we can find.
CAPT. G. Any chance of seeing Her? CAPT. M. Innocent! No! Come along, and, if you want me for the final obsequies, don’t cut my eye out with your stick.
CAPT. G. (Spinning round.) I say, isn’t She the dearest creature that ever walked? What’s the time? What comes after “wilt thou take this woman”?
CAPT. M. You go for the ring. R’clect it’ll be on the top of my right-hand little finger, and just be careful how you draw it off, because I shall have the Verger’s fees somewhere in my glove.
CAPT. G. (Walking forward hastily.) D – the Verger! Come along! It’s past twelve and I haven’t seen Her since yesterday evening. (Spinning round again.) She’s an absolute angel, Jack, and She’s a dashed deal too good for me. Look here, does She come up the aisle on my arm, or how?
CAPT. M. If I thought that there was the least chance of your remembering anything for two consecutive minutes, I’d tell you. Stop passaging about like that!
CAPT. G. (Halting in the middle of the road.) I say, Jack.
CAPT. M. Keep quiet for another ten minutes if you can, you lunatic; and walk!
The two tramp at five miles an hour for fifteen minutes.
CAPT. G. What’s the time? How about the cursed wedding-cake and the slippers? They don’t throw ‘em about in church, do they?
CAPT. M. In-variably. The Padre leads off with his boots.
CAPT. G. Confound your silly soul! Don’t make fun of me. I can’t stand it, and I won’t!
CAPT. M. (Untroubled.) So-ooo, old horse You’ll have to sleep for a couple of hours this afternoon.
CAPT. G. (Spinning round.) I’m not going to be treated like a dashed child. Understand that!
CAPT. M. (Aside.) Nerves gone to fiddle-strings. What a day we’re having! (Tenderly putting his hand on G.‘s shoulder.) My David, how long have you known this Jonathan? Would I come up here to make a fool of you – after all these years?
CAPT. G. (Penitently.) I know, I know, Jack – but I’m as upset as I can be. Don’t mind what I say. Just hear me run through the drill and see if I’ve got it all right: – “To have and to hold for better or worse, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, so help me God. Amen.”
CAPT. M. (Suffocating with suppressed laughter.) Yes. That’s about the gist of it. I’ll prompt if you get into a hat.
CAPT. G. (Earnestly.) Yes, you’ll stick by me, Jack, won’t you? I’m awfully happy, but I don’t mind telling you that I’m in a blue funk!
CAPT. M. (Gravely.) Are you? I should never have noticed it. You don’t look like it.
CAPT. G. Don’t I? That’s all right. (Spinning round.) On my soul and honor, Jack, She’s the sweetest little angel that ever came down from the sky. There isn’t a woman on earth fit to speak to Her.
CAPT. M. (Aside.) And this is old Gandy! (Aloud.) Go on if it relieves you.
CAPT. G. You can laugh! That’s all you wild asses of bachelors are fit for.
CAPT. M. (Drawling.) You never would wait for the troop to come up. You aren’t quite married yet, y’know.
CAPT. G. Ugh! That reminds me. I don’t believe I shall be able to get into any boots Let’s go home and try ‘em on (Hurries forward.)
CAPT. M. ‘Wouldn’t be in your shoes for anything that Asia has to offer.
CAPT. G. (Spinning round.) That just shows your hideous blackness of soul – your dense stupidity – your brutal narrow-mindedness. There’s only one fault about you. You’re the best of good fellows, and I don’t know what I should have done without you, but – you aren’t married. (Wags his head gravely.) Take a wife, Jack.
CAPT. M. (With a face like a wall.) Va-as. Whose for choice?
CAPT. G. If you’re going to be a blackguard, I’m going on – What’s the time?
CAPT. M. (Hums.) —
“An’ since ‘twas very clear we drank only ginger-beer,
Faith, there must ha’ been some stingo in the ginger.”
Come back, you maniac. I’m going to take you home, and you’re going to lie down.
CAPT. G. What on earth do I want to lie down for?
CAPT. M. Give me a light from your cheroot and see.
CAPT. G. (Watching cheroot-butt quiver like a tuning-fork.) Sweet state I’m in!
CAPT. M. You are. I’ll get you a peg and you’ll go to sleep.
They return and M. compounds a four-finger peg.
CAPT. G. O bus! bus! It’ll make me as drunk as an owl.
CAPT. M. ‘Curious thing, ‘twon’t have the slightest effect on you. Drink it off, chuck yourself down there, and go to bye-bye.
CAPT. G. It’s absurd. I sha’n’t sleep, I know I sha’n’t!
(Falls into heavy doze at end of seven minutes. CAPT. M. watches him tenderly.)
CAPT. M. Poor old Gandy! I’ve seen a few turned off before, but never one who went to the gallows in this condition. ‘Can’t tell how it affects ‘em, though. It’s the thoroughbreds that sweat when they’re backed into double-harness. – And that’s the man who went through the guns at Amdheran like a devil possessed of devils. (Leans over G.) But this is worse than the guns, old pal – worse than the guns, isn’t it? (G. turns in his sleep, and M. touches him clumsily on the forehead.) Poor, dear old Gaddy I Going like the rest of ‘em – going like the rest of ‘em – Friend that sticketh closer than a brother – eight years. Dashed bit of a slip of a girl – eight weeks! And – where’s your friend? (Smokes disconsolately till church clock strikes three.)
CAPT. M. Up with you! Get into your kit.
CAPT. C. Already? Isn’t it too soon? Hadn’t I better have a shave?
CAPT. M. No! You’re all right. (Aside.) He’d chip his chin to pieces.
CAPT. C. What’s the hurry?
CAPT. M. You’ve got to be there first.
CAPT. C. To be stared at?
CAPT. M. Exactly. You’re part of the show. Where’s the burnisher? Your spurs are in a shameful state.
CAPT. G. (Gruffly.) Jack, I be damned if you shall do that for me.
CAPT. M. (More gruffly.) Dry’ up and get dressed! If I choose to clean your spurs, you’re under my orders.
CAPT. G. dresses. M. follows suit.
CAPT. M. (Critically, walking round.) M’yes, you’ll do. Only don’t look so like a criminal. Ring, gloves, fees – that’s all right for me. Let your moustache alone. Now, if the ponies are ready, we’ll go.
CAPT. G. (Nervously.) It’s much too soon. Let’s light up! Let’s have a peg! Let’s – CAPT. M. Let’s make bally asses of ourselves!
BELLS. (Without.) —
“Good-peo-ple-all To prayers-we call.”
CAPT. M. There go the bells! Come an – unless you’d rather not. (They ride off.)
BELLS. —
“We honor the King And Brides joy do bring – Good tidings we tell, And ring the Dead’s knell.”
CAPT. G. (Dismounting at the door of the Church.) I say, aren’t we much too soon? There are no end of people inside. I say, aren’t we much too late? Stick by me, Jack! What the devil do I do?
CAPT. M. Strike an attitude at the head of the aisle and wait for Her. (G. groans as M. wheels him into position before three hundred eyes.)
CAPT. M. (Imploringly.) Gaddy, if you love me, for pity’s sake, for the Honor of the Regiment, stand up! Chuck yourself into your uniform! Look like a man! I’ve got to speak to the Padre a minute. (G. breaks into a gentle Perspiration.) your face I’ll never man again. Stand up! (Visibly.) If you wipe your face I’ll never be your best man again. Stand up! (G. Trembles visibly.)
CAPT. M. (Returning.) She’s coming now. Look out when the music starts. There’s the organ beginning to clack.
(Bride steps out of ‘rickshaw at Church door. G. catches a glimpse of her and takes heart.)
ORGAN. —
“The Voice that breathed o’er Eden,
That earliest marriage day,
The primal marriage-blessing,
It hath not passed away.”
CAPT. M. (Watching G.) By Jove! He is looking well. ‘Didn’t think he had it in him.
CAPT. G. How long does this hymn go on for?
CAPT. M. It will be over directly. (Anxiously.) Beginning to beltch and gulp. Hold on, Gabby, and think o’ the Regiment.
CAPT. G. (Measuredly.) I say there’s a big brown lizard crawling up that wall.
CAPT. M. My Sainted Mother! The last stage of collapse!
Bride comes Up to left of altar, lifts her eyes once to G., who is suddenly smitten mad.
CAPT. G. (TO himself again and again.) Little Featherweight’s a woman – a woman! And I thought she was a little girl.
CAPT. M. (In a whisper.) Form the halt – inward wheel.
CAPT. G. obeys mechanically and the ceremony proceeds.
PADRE… only unto her as ye both shall live?
CAPT. G. (His throat useless.) Ha – hmmm!
CAPT. M. Say you will or you won’t. There’s no second deal here.
Bride gives response with perfect calmness, and is given away by the father.
CAPT. G. (Thinking to show his learning.) Jack give me away now, quick!
CAPT. M. You’ve given yourself away quite enough. Her right hand, man! Repeat! Repeat! “Theodore Philip.” Have you forgotten your own name?
CAPT. G. stumbles through Affirmation, which Bride repeats without a tremor.
CAPT. M. Now the ring! Follow the Padre! Don’t pull off my glove! Here it is! Great Cupid, he’s found his voice.
CAPT. G. repeats Troth in a voice to be heard to the end of the Church and turns on his heel.
CAPT. M. (Desperately.) Rein back! Back to your troop! ‘Tisn’t half legal yet.
PADRE… joined together let no man put asunder.
CAPT. G. paralyzed with fear jibs after Blessing.
CAPT. M. (Quickly.) On your own front – one length. Take her with you. I don’t come. You’ve nothing to say. (CAPT. G. jingles up to altar.)
CAPT. M. (In a piercing rattle meant to be a whisper.) Kneel, you stiff-necked ruffian! Kneel!
PADRE… whose daughters are ye so long as ye do well and are not afraid with any amazement.
CAPT. M. Dismiss! Break off! Left wheel!
All troop to vestry. They sign.
CAPT. M. Kiss Her, Gaddy.
CAPT. G. (Rubbing the ink into his glove.) Eh! Wha-at?
CAPT. M. (Taking one pace to Bride.) If you don’t, I shall.
CAPT. G. (Interposing an arm.) Not this journey!
General kissing, in which CAPT. G. is pursued by unknown female.
CAPT. G. (Faintly to M.) This is Hades! Can I wipe my face now?
CAPT. M. My responsibility has ended. Better ask Misses GADSBY.
CAPT. G. winces as though shot and procession is Mendelssohned out of Church to house, where usual tortures take place over the wedding-cake.
CAPT. M. (At table.) Up with you, Gaddy. They expect a speech.
CAPT. G. (After three minutes’ agony.) Ha-hmmm. (Thunders Of applause.)
CAPT. M. Doocid good, for a first attempt. Now go and change your kit while Mamma is weeping over “the Missus.” (CAPT. G. disappears. CAPT. M. starts up tearing his hair.) It’s not half legal. Where are the shoes? Get an ayah.
AYAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone band karo all the jutis.
CAPT. M. (Brandishing scab larded sword.) Woman, produce those shoes Some one lend me a bread-knife. We mustn’t crack Gaddy’s head more than it is. (Slices heel off white satin slipper and puts slipper up his sleeve.)
Where is the Bride? (To the company at large.) Be tender with that rice. It’s a heathen custom. Give me the big bag.
* * * * * *
Bride slips out quietly into ‘rickshaw and departs toward the sunset.
CAPT. M. (In the open.) Stole away, by Jove! So much the worse for Gaddy! Here he is. Now Gaddy, this’ll be livelier than Amdberan! Where’s your horse?
CAPT. G. (Furiously, seeing that the women are out of an earshot.) Where the – is my Wife?
CAPT. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You’ll have to ride like Young Lochinvar.
Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him.
CAPT. G. Oh you will, will you? Get ‘round, you brute – you hog – you beast! Get round!
Wrenches horse’s head over, nearly breaking lower jaw: swings himself into saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a spattering gale of Best Patna.
CAPT. M. For your life and your love-ride, Gaddy – And God bless you!
Throws half a pound of rice at G. who disappears, bowed forward on the saddle, in a cloud of sunlit dust.
CAPT. M. I’ve lost old Gaddy. (Lights cigarette and strolls off, singing absently): —
“You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on his card, That a young man married is a young man marred!”
Miss DEERCOURT. (From her horse.) Really, Captain Mafflin! You are more plain spoken than polite!
CAPT. M. (Aside.) They say marriage is like cholera. ‘Wonder who’ll be the next victim.
White satin slipper slides from his sleeve and falls at his feet. Left wondering.
