Dialogue following No. 5
HAROLD (to Soldiers). You can halt for a moment. The Governor’s stopped to make a butter slide on the Syndic’s doorstep. (Soldiers halt — to BLANCA.) It’s a little unkind to laugh at us, Blanca, for you know we can’t help it — from 10 to 2.
BLANCA. It’s a little unkind to complain of our laughing at you, for you know we can’t help it — from 10 to 2.
ELSA. We can none of us help it — you’re all so ridiculous!
HAROLD. I think my betrothed wife might sympathize with the absurdity of my position. I think all our betrothed wives might sympathize with the absurdity of all our positions.
ELSA. We sympathize with you as hard as we can, after 2. We can’t do it before 2, because we’re laughing all the time.
BLANCA. From 2 to 10 you’re men, and we’re engaged to you. From 10 to 2 you’re hoppedegigs, and it’s off.
ELSA. That exactly describes it.
HAROLD. Yes, but at that rate we shall never get any forrarder. Besides, who knows what may happen from 10 to 2? You might get engaged to somebody else — to the Sergeant-Major, for instance — he’s always fooling around you.
BLANCA. Well, of course we don’t want to waste our mornings; but even if I were engaged to him from 10 to 2, 1 should always be true to you from 2 to 10.
HAROLD. It’s not enough. It’s incomplete.
ELSA. Take care, the Governor’s coming.
HAROLD. Oh, confound it — off we go again! (Soldiers resume dancing.)
Enter GOVERNOR GRIFFENFELD. He has a pound of butter in his hand.
GRIFFENFELD (to Soldiers). Ah, my fine fellows, still at it? Got your second wind? That’s right —capital exercise! Nothing like it. Here, you can eat this — I’ve done with it. (Giving butter to HAROLD.) The Syndic went down like a shot!
HAROLD (dancing). I beg your Excellency’s pardon, but — may we halt for a moment? We’ve danced for nearly three miles uphill, and it’s a hot day, and we’re feeling a little faint.
GRIFFENFELD. Always craving for some unreasonable indulgence! Selfish dogs, all of you! Well, you may halt for five minutes.
HAROLD. Thank you very much. (To Soldiers.) Selfish dogs — Halt! (They halt.)
GRIFFENFELD. Anything else?
HAROLD. Well, I have a request to make. The fact is, the troops do feel the humiliation of being drilled like ballet-girls.
GRIFFENFELD. Bless my heart, you surprise me! Don’t they like ballet-girls?
HAROLD. Oh, they’re very fond of ballet-girls, but they don’t want to be ballet-girls, because when you are a ballet-girl, you don’t seem to care so much about balletgirls as you do when — when you’re something quite different.
GRIFFENFELD. But don’t your men see how much amusement they create? Can’t they see that all the girls are laughing at them? Have they no sense of humour?
HAROLD. Oh, they’ve a distinct sense of humour; but to enjoy this sort of thing completely you want to see it from a distance. You see it from a distance, and it ought to be devilish funny; but we are close to it — in fact, we are it — and when you are it, you don’t seem to care so much about it, as you do when — when you are something quite different. The fact is, the point of a joke is like the point of a needle — hold the needle sideways and it’s plain enough, but when it is directed straight at you — well, it’s not always very easy to see the point of it.
GRIFFENFELD. Nonsense! I can see a joke plain enough even when I’m its victim. Take my unfortunate love affair —
HAROLD. Ah, ridiculous business that! (Soldiers laugh.)
GRIFFENFELD. No comments, sir!
HAROLD (to Soldiers). No comments, gentlemen!
GRIFFENFELD. Take my unfortunate love affair. The late Governor, when I was only his deputy, was about to be married to an elderly lady of a singularly explosive disposition. They simply doted on each other. Now when you see two old donkeys simply doting on each other, your course is obvious — you set to work —
HAROLD. To wheedle the old lady —
GRIFFENFELD. Away from the old gentleman.
HAROLD. Ha! ha! you little rogue! (HAROLD digs GRIFFENFELD in the ribs.)
GRIFFENFELD. Don’t do that, sir!
HAROLD (to Soldiers). Don’t do that, gentlemen!
GRIFFENFELD. Well, after some respectful attention, she accepted me in this letter (producing a letter) in which she stipulated that the matter should be kept a profound secret until an excuse could be found for sending the old gentleman about his business. But, as luck would have it, the Governor died suddenly and I succeeded him, before I had time to explain that it was only my fun —
HAROLD and SOLDIERS. Ha! ha! (Suddenly serious.) I beg your pardon — I don’t know what they’re laughing at.
GRIFFENFELD. And so there I was — regularly trapped into a ridiculous engagement, which I can’t for the life of me see my way out of. The situation is most unpleasant — most unpleasant. But do you suppose I don’t see the fun of it? Why, I can’t think of it without going into convulsions! Ha! ha!
HAROLD and SOLDIERS. Ha! ha! ha!
GRIFFENFELD. She’s sixty!
HAROLD and SOLDIERS. Ha! ha! ha!
GRIFFENFELD. Wears a wig!
HAROLD and SOLDIERS. Ha! ha! ha!
GRIFFENFELD. Don’t overdo it, sir!
HAROLD. Don’t overdo it, gentlemen!
GRIFFENFELD. That’s quite enough. It’s a very good joke, but not as good a joke as all that. Impudent puppies! — be off with you.
HAROLD (to SOLDIERS). Impudent puppies! — inwards turn — Chassez!
HAROLD and SOLDIERS dance off, followed by girls laughing and chattering.
GRIFFENFELD. Upon my word, there’s no such thing as gratitude. I do all I can to make my soldiers amusing — I place them in all kinds of ridiculous situations — I make them a source of entertainment to a whole township of attractive girls, and instead of being pleased and grateful for the attention, they growl like so many sore-eared bears!
Enter DAME CORTLANDT skittishly, with a folded note in her hand
DAME. Why, here’s my little man after all! I’ve been looking for him everywhere. Why does he hide himself away from his loving Hecla?
GRIFFENFELD. Eh? Oh, it’s you, is it? (She puts her arm round his neck.) Don’t do that — you rumple me. What have you got there?
DAME. It’s a note, you jealous boy! Not for you — oh dear no! it’s a pretty little pink and white billet doux addressed to a pretty little pink and white gentleman, begging him to make an appointment to meet a pretty little pink and white lady, all alone! That’s me! Now what do you think of that?
GRIFFENFELD. Well, if you ask me, I don’t think he’ll come.
DAME. Oh yes, he will! He’ll come fast enough. But there — it’s cruel to keep my pet in suspense —
GRIFFENFELD. God bless me, you don’t suppose I care whom you meet!
DAME (suddenly furious). What’s that? Say that again! Once more! Come, out with it!
GRIFFENFELD (alarmed). I say that I’ve such perfect confidence in your moral character that I don’t trouble myself to inquire whom you make appointments with.
DAME (relieved). Oh, was that all? But you shouldn’t upset me, George. Within this fragile body two tremendous powers are in perpetual antagonism — a Diabolical Temper and an Iron Will. At first it didn’t seem to be any affair of mine, and I determined to let them fight it out among themselves; but this internal conflict of irresistible forces is very wearing, George, and I begin to wish they’d settle it one way or the other.
GRIFFENFELD. Oh, what’s the odds?
DAME (temper rising). About seven to two on the Temper just now, George. (Struggling to repress it.) No, the Will triumphs! (Playfully.) Now, shall I tell my little man who it is? (Placing her arm round his neck.)
GRIFFENFELD. Oh, bother! Don’t go on like that! You’re too old!
DAME (suddenly furious). Eh? What was that? Too old! I’m too old! Oh, hold me down — hold me down! Bottle me up, and tie down the cork, or I shall go mad! mad! mad!
GRIFFENFELD. Don’t go on like that — it’s so jumpy!
DAME (struggling with herself). You — you said I was too old!
GRIFFENFELD. Well, I’m too old. You’re not, but I am. Can’t you take a joke? Can’t anybody take a joke?
DAME. You were not in earnest?
GRIFFENFELD. Earnest! Am I ever in earnest?
DAME (with an effort). All right, dear — don’t be afraid — it’s down again! Well, then, this is a letter requesting Master Mats Munck, the Syndic, to take my instructions for drawing up the settlements with a view to my forth-coming marriage. But I shan’t tell you how I’m going to deal with my property. That will be a little surprise for you during the honeymoon.
GRIFFENFELD (aside). A letter to the Syndic? The very thing! It may help me to carry out my plot for compromising her with him. (Aloud.) Give it to me. I shall see him presently, and I’ll hand it to him.
DAME. To be sure I will. (Giving it to him.) And now about the date.
GRIFFENFELD. What date?
DAME. Why, the date of our marriage, you ardent creature!
GRIFFENFELD. Oh, yes! — come and sit down, and we’ll talk it over. (She sits at his feet.) There — like that. Cosy, isn’t it?
DAME (shyly). Oh, George!
GRIFFENFELD. Now suppose — I only say suppose, you know —
DAME. Yes — like a fairy tale.
GRIFFENFELD. Exactly like a fairy tale. Now suppose that one fine morning you discovered that all this lovemaking of mine was only one of my practical jokes! Ha! ha! ha!
DAME. Ha! ha! ha! (working herself up into a rage). Stop a bit! stop a bit! They’re fighting it out.
GRIFFENFELD (earnestly). Two to one on the Will! Two to one on the Will!
DAME. Wins easy, George! It’s all right again. Go on, dear.
GRIFFENFELD. No, but really now, what would you say if you found out, quite unexpectedly, that I wasn’t in earnest, and that I only proposed to you because — because somebody bet me I wouldn’t?
DAME (working herself up). Bet you you wouldn’t — bet you you wouldn’t! What would I do — what would I do — what would I do?
GRIFFENFELD. Now don’t go on like that! It’s most unpleasant. I don’t think you know how creepy you are when you do that. Oh, Lord, she’s off again!