Plays Unpleasant (23 page)

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Authors: George Bernard Shaw

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CRAVEN
. Oh, it's not the money; but I think you ought to realize your position. [
Paramore turns stiffly away. Craven follows him impulsively, exclaiming remorsefully
] Well, perhaps it was a nasty thing of me to allude to it. [
He offers Paramore his hand
].

PARAMORE
[
conscientiously taking it
] Not at all. You are quite in the right, Colonel Craven: my diagnosis was wrong; and I must take the consequences.

CRAVEN
[
holding his hand
] No, dont say that. It was natural enough: my liver is enough to set any man's diagnosis wrong. [
A long handshake, very trying to Paramore's nerves. Paramore then retires to the recess on Ibsen's left, and throws himself on the divan with a half suppressed sob, bending over The British Medical Journal with his head on his hands and his elbows on his knees
].

CUTHBERTSON
[
who has been rejoicing with Julia at the other side of the room
] Well, lets say no more about it. I congratulate you, Craven, and hope you may long be spared. [
Craven offers his hand
]. No, Dan: your daughter first. [
He takes Julia's hand gently and hands her across to Craven, into whose arms she flies with a gush of feeling
].

JULIA
. Dear old Daddy!

CRAVEN
. Ah, is Julia glad that the old Dad is let off for a few years more?

JULIA
[
almost crying
] Oh, so glad! so glad!

Cuthbertson sobs audibly. The Colonel is affected. Sylvia, entering from the dining room, stops abruptly at the door on seeing the three. Paramore, in the recess, escapes her notice
.

SYLVIA
. Hallo!

CRAVEN
. Tell her the news, Julia: it would sound ridiculous from me. [
He goes to the weeping Cuthbertson, and pats him consolingly on the shoulder
].

JULIA
. Silly: only think! Dad's not ill at all. It was only a mistake of Dr Paramore's. Oh, dear! [
She catches Craven's left hand and stoops to kiss it, his right hand being still on Cuthbertson's shoulder
].

SYLVIA
[
contemptuously
] I knew it. Of course it was nothing but eating too much. I always said Paramore was an ass. [
Sensation. The group of Cuthbertson, Craven, and Julia breaks up as they turn in dismay
].

PARAMORE
[
without malice
] Never mind, Miss Craven. That
is what is being said all over Europe now. Never mind.

SYLVIA
[
a little abashed
] I'm so sorry, Dr Paramore. You must excuse a daughter's feelings.

CRAVEN
[
huffed
] It evidently doesnt make much difference to you, Sylvia.

SYLVIA
. I'm not going to be sentimental over it, Dad, you may bet. [
Coming to Craven
] Besides, I knew it was nonsense all along. [
Petting him
] Poor old Dad! why should your days be numbered any more than any one else's? [
He pats her cheek, mollified. Julia impatiently turns away from them
]. Come to the smoking room; and lets see what you can do after teetotalling for a year.

CRAVEN
[
playfully
] Vulgar little girl! [
He pinches her ear
]. Shall we come, Jo! Youll be the better for a pick-me-up after all this emotion.

CUTHBERTSON
. I'm not ashamed of it, Dan. It has done me good. [
He goes up to the table and shakes his fist at the bust over the mantelpiece
]. It would do you good too, if you had eyes and ears to take it in.

CRAVEN
[
astonished
] Who?

SYLVIA
. Why, good old Henrik, of course.

CRAVEN
[
puzzled
] Henrik?

CUTHBERTSON
[
impatiently
] Ibsen, man: Ibsen. [
Hegoes out by the staircase door, followed by Sylvia, who kisses her hand to the bust as she passes. Craven stares blankly after her, and then at the bust. Giving the problem up as insoluble, he shakes his head and follows them. Near the door, he checks himself, and comes back
].

CRAVEN
[
softly
] By the way, Paramore?

PARAMORE
[
rousing himself with an effort
] Yes?

CRAVEN
. You werent in earnest that time about my heart, were you?

PARAMORE
. Oh nothing, nothing. Theres a slight murmur: mitral valves a little worn perhaps: but theyll last your time if youre careful. Dont smoke too much.

CRAVEN
. What! More privations! Now really, Paramore, really–

PARAMORE
[
rising distractedly
] Excuse me: I cant pursue the subject. I – I –

JULIA
. Dont worry him now, Daddy.

CRAVEN
. Well, well: I wont. [
He comes to Paramore, who is pacing restlessly up and down the middle of the room
] Come, Paramore! I'm not selfish, believe me: I can feel for your disappointment. But you must face it like a man. And after all, now really, doesnt this shew that theres a lot of rot about modern science? Between ourselves, you know, it's horribly cruel: you must admit that it's a deuced nasty thing to go ripping up and crucifying camels and monkeys. It must blunt all the finer feelings sooner or later.

PARAMORE
[
turning to him
] How many camels and horses and men were ripped up in that Soudan campaign where you won your Victoria Cross, Colonel Craven?

CRAVEN
[
firing up
] That was fair fighting: a very different thing, Paramore.

PARAMORE
. Yes: Martinis and machine guns against naked spearman.

CRAVEN
[
hotly
] Naked spearman can kill, Paramore. I risked my life: dont forget that.

PARAMORE
[
with equal spirit
] And I have risked mine, as all doctors do, oftener than any soldier.

CRAVEN
[
handsomely
] Thats true. I didnt think of that. I beg your pardon, Paramore: I'll never say another word against your profession. But I hope youll let me stick to the good oldfashioned shaking-up treatment for my liver: a clinking run across country with the hounds.

PARAMORE
[
with bitter irony
] Isnt that rather cruel? a pack of dogs ripping up a fox?

JULIA
[
coming coaxingly between them
] Oh please dont begin arguing again. Do go to the smoking room, Daddy: Mr Cuthbertson will wonder what has become of you.

CRAVEN
. Very well, very well: I'll go. But youre really not reasonable today, Paramore, to talk that way of fair sport –

JULIA
. Sh – sh [
coaxing him towards the door
].

CRAVEN
. Well, well, I'm off. [
He goes goodhumoredly, pushed out by Julia
].

JULIA
[
turning at the door with her utmost witchery of manner
] Dont look so disappointed, Dr Paramore. Cheer up. Youve been most kind to us; and youve done papa a lot of good.

PARAMORE
[
delighted, rushing over to her
] How beautiful it is of you to say that to me, Miss Craven!

JULIA
. I hate to see any one unhappy. I cant bear un-happiness. [
She runs out, casting a Parthian glance at him as she flies
].

Paramore stands enraptured, gazing after her through the glass door. Whilst he is thus absorbed, Charteris comes in from the dining room and touches him on the arm
.

PARAMORE
[
starting
] Eh? Whats the matter?

CHARTERIS
[
significantly
] Charming woman, isnt she, Paramore? [
Looking admiringly at him
] How have you managed to fascinate her?

PARAMORE
. I! Do you really mean – [
He looks at him; then recovers himself, and adds coldly
] Excuse me: this is a subject I do not care to jest about. [
He walks away from Charteris, and sits down in the nearest easy chair, reading his journal to intimate that he does not wish to pursue the conversation
].

CHARTERIS
[
ignoring the hint, and coolly sitting down beside him
] Why dont you get married, Paramore? You know it's a scandalous thing for a man in your profession to be single.

PARAMORE
[
shortly, still pretending to read
] Thats my own business: not yours.

CHARTERIS
. Not at all: it's pre-eminently a social question. Youre going to get married, arnt you?

PARAMORE
. Not that I am aware of.

CHARTERIS
[
alarmed
] No! Dont say that. Why?

PARAMORE
[
rising angrily and rapping one of the
SILENCE
placards
] Allow me to call your attention to that. [
He crosses the room to the easy chair near the revolving bookstand, and flings himself into it with determined hostility
].

CHARTERIS
[
following him, too deeply concerned to mind the rebuff
] Paramore: you alarm me more than I can say. Youve muffed this business somehow. I fully expected to find you a joyful accepted suitor.

PARAMORE
[
angrily
] Yes, you have been watching me because you admire Miss Craven yourself. Well, you may go in and win now. You will be pleased to hear that I am a ruined man.

CHARTERIS
. You! Ruined! How? The turf?

PARAMORE
[
contemptuously
] The turf!! Certainly not.

CHARTERIS
. Paramore: if the loan of all I possess will help you over this difficulty, you have only to ask.

PARAMORE
[
rising in surprise
] Charteris! I – [
Suspiciously
] Are you joking?

CHARTERIS
. Why on earth do you always suspect me of joking? I never was more serious in my life.

PARAMORE
[
shamed by Charteris's generosity
] Then I beg your pardon. I thought the news would please you.

CHARTERIS
[
deprecating this injustice to his good feeling
] My dear fellow!

PARAMORE
. I see I was wrong. I am really very sorry. [
They shake hands
]. And now you may as well learn the truth. I had rather you heard it from me than from the gossip of the club. My liver discovery has been – er – er – [
he cannot bring himself to say it
].

CHARTERIS
[
helping him out
] Confirmed? [
Sadly
] I see: the poor Colonel's doomed.

PARAMORE
. No: on the contrary, it has been – er – called in question. The Colonel now believes himself to be in perfectly good health; and my friendly relations with the Cravens are entirely spoilt.

CHARTERIS
. Who told him about it?

PARAMORE
. I did, of course, the moment I read the news in this. [
He shews the journal, and puts it down on the bookstand
].

CHARTERIS
. Why, man, you've been a messenger of glad tidings! Didnt you congratulate him?

PARAMORE
[
scandalized
] Congratulate him! Congratulate a man on the worst blow pathological science has received for the last three hundred years!

CHARTERIS
. No, no, no. Congratulate him on having his life saved. Congratulate Julia on having her father spared. Swear that your discovery and your reputation are as nothing to you compared with the pleasure of restoring happiness to the household in which the best hopes of your life are centred. Confound it, man, youll never get married if you cant turn things to account with a woman in these little ways.

PARAMORE
[
gravely
] Excuse me; but my self-respect is dearer to me even than Miss Craven. I cannot trifle with scientific questions for the sake of a personal advantage. [
He turns away coldly, and goes towards the table
].

CHARTERIS
. Well, this beats me! The Nonconformist conscience is bad enough; but the scientific conscience is the very devil. [
He follows Paramore, and puts his arm familiarly round his shoulder, bringing him back again whilst he speaks
], Now look here, Paramore: I have no conscience in that sense at all: I loathe it as I loathe all the snares of idealism; but I have some common humanity and common sense. [
He replaces him in an easy chair, and sits down opposite him
], Come! what is a really scientific theory? A true theory, isnt it?

PARAMORE
. No doubt.

CHARTERIS
. For instance, you have a theory about Craven's liver, eh?

PARAMORE
. I still believe that to be a true theory, though it has been upset for the moment.

CHARTERIS
. And you have a theory that it would be pleasant to be married to Julia?

PARAMORE
. I suppose so. In a sense.

CHARTERIS
. That theory also will be upset, probably before youre a year older.

PARAMORE
. Always cynical, Charteris.

CHARTERIS
. Never mind that. Now it's a perfectly damnable thing for you to hope that your liver theory is true, because it amounts to hoping that Craven will die an agonizing death.

PARAMORE
. And always paradoxical, Charteris.

CHARTERIS
. Well, at least youll admit that it's amiable and human to hope that your theory about Julia is right, because it amounts to hoping that she may live happily ever after.

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