The Doctor’s Dilemma

think of me. That is the sort of immortality I want. You can make that for me, Jennifer. There are lots of things you don’t understand that every woman in the street understands; but you can understand that and do it as nobody else can. Promise me that immortality. Promise me you will not make a little hell of crape and crying and undertaker’s horrors and withering flowers and all that vulgar rubbish. Mrs. Dubedat I promise. But all that is far off, dear. You are to come to Cornwall with me and get well. Sir Ralph says so. Louis Poor old B.B. B.B. Affected to tears, turns away and whispers to Sir Patrick. Poor fellow! Brain going. Louis Sir Patrick’s there, isn’t he? Sir Patrick Yes, yes. I’m here. Louis Sit down, won’t you? It’s a shame to keep you standing about. Sir Patrick Yes, Yes. Thank you. All right. Louis Jennifer. Mrs. Dubedat Yes, dear. Louis With a strange look of delight. Do you remember the burning bush? Mrs. Dubedat Yes, Yes. Oh, my dear, how it strains my heart to remember it now! Louis Does it? It fills me with joy. Tell them about it. Mrs. Dubedat It was nothing⁠—only that once in my old Cornish home we lit the first fire of the winter; and when we looked through the window we saw the flames dancing in a bush in the garden. Louis Such a color! Garnet color. Waving like silk. Liquid lovely flame flowing up through the bay leaves, and not burning them. Well, I shall be a flame like that. I’m sorry to disappoint the poor little worms; but the last of me shall be the flame in the burning bush. Whenever you see the flame, Jennifer, that will be me. Promise me that I shall be burnt. Mrs. Dubedat Oh, if I might be with you, Louis! Louis No: you must always be in the garden when the bush flames. You are my hold on the world: you are my immortality. Promise. Mrs. Dubedat I’m listening. I shall not forget. You know that I promise. Louis Well, that’s about all; except that you are to hang my pictures at the one-man show. I can trust your eye. You won’t let anyone else touch them. Mrs. Dubedat You can trust me. Louis Then there’s nothing more to worry about, is there? Give me some more of that milk. I’m fearfully tired; but if I stop talking I shan’t begin again. Sir Ralph gives him a drink. He takes it and looks up quaintly. I say, B.B., do you think anything would stop you talking? B.B. Almost unmanned. He confuses me with you, Paddy. Poor fellow! Poor fellow! Louis Musing. I used to be awfully afraid of death; but now it’s come I have no fear; and I’m perfectly happy. Jennifer. Mrs. Dubedat Yes, dear? Louis I’ll tell you a secret. I used to think that our marriage was all an affectation, and that I’d break loose and run away some day. But now that I’m going to be broken loose whether I like it or not, I’m perfectly fond of you, and perfectly satisfied because I’m going to live as part of you and not as my troublesome self. Mrs. Dubedat Heartbroken. Stay with me, Louis. Oh, don’t leave me, dearest. Louis Not that I’m selfish. With all my faults I don’t think I’ve ever been really selfish. No artist can: Art is too large for that. You will marry again, Jennifer. Mrs. Dubedat Oh, how can you, Louis? Louis Insisting childishly. Yes, because people who have found marriage happy always marry again. Ah, I shan’t be jealous. Slyly. But don’t talk to the other fellow too much about me: he won’t like it. Almost chuckling. I shall be your lover all the time; but it will be a secret from him, poor devil! Sir Patrick Come! you’ve talked enough. Try to rest awhile. Louis Wearily. Yes: I’m fearfully tired; but I shall have a long rest presently. I have something to say to you fellows. You’re all there, aren’t you? I’m too weak to see anything but Jennifer’s bosom. That promises rest. Ridgeon We are all here. Louis Startled. That voice sounded devilish. Take care, Ridgeon: my ears hear things that other people’s can’t. I’ve been thinking⁠—thinking. I’m cleverer than you imagine. Sir Patrick Whispering to Ridgeon. You’ve got on his nerves, Colly. Slip out quietly. Ridgeon Apart to Sir Patrick. Would you deprive the dying actor of his audience? Louis His face lighting up faintly with mischievous glee. I heard that, Ridgeon. That was good. Jennifer dear: be kind to Ridgeon always; because he was the last man who amused me. Ridgeon Relentless. Was I? Louis But it’s not true. It’s you who are still on the stage. I’m halfway home already. Mrs. Dubedat To Ridgeon. What did you say? Louis Answering for him. Nothing, dear. Only one of those little secrets that men keep among themselves. Well, all you chaps have thought pretty hard things of me, and said them. B.B. Quite overcome. No, no, Dubedat. Not at all. Louis Yes, you have. I know what you all think of me. Don’t imagine I’m sore about it. I forgive you. Walpole Involuntarily. Well, damn me! Ashamed. I beg your pardon. Louis That was old Walpole, I know. Don’t grieve, Walpole. I’m perfectly happy. I’m not in pain. I don’t want to live. I’ve escaped from myself. I’m in heaven, immortal in the heart of my beautiful Jennifer. I’m not afraid, and not ashamed. Reflectively, puzzling it out for himself weakly. I know that in an accidental sort of way, struggling through the unreal part of life, I haven’t always been able to live up to my ideal. But in my own real world I have never done anything wrong, never denied my faith, never been untrue to myself. I’ve been threatened and blackmailed and insulted and starved. But I’ve played the game. I’ve fought the good fight. And now it’s all over,