Candida

several things since. Candida Remorsefully. I’m so sorry, Eugene. I think the poker must have fascinated me. She puts it down. Marchbanks It made me horribly uneasy. Candida Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have put it down at once. Marchbanks I was afraid of making you uneasy, too. It looked as if it were a weapon. If I were a hero of old, I should have laid my drawn sword between us. If Morell had come in he would have thought you had taken up the poker because there was no sword between us. Candida Wondering. What? With a puzzled glance at him. I can’t quite follow that. Those sonnets of yours have perfectly addled me. Why should there be a sword between us? Marchbanks Evasively. Oh, never mind. He stoops to pick up the manuscript. Candida Put that down again, Eugene. There are limits to my appetite for poetry⁠—even your poetry. You’ve been reading to me for more than two hours⁠—ever since James went out. I want to talk. Marchbanks Rising, scared. No: I mustn’t talk. He looks round him in his lost way, and adds, suddenly: I think I’ll go out and take a walk in the park. Making for the door. Candida Nonsense: it’s shut long ago. Come and sit down on the hearthrug, and talk moonshine as you usually do. I want to be amused. Don’t you want to? Marchbanks In half terror, half rapture. Yes. Candida Then come along. She moves her chair back a little to make room. He hesitates; then timidly stretches himself on the hearthrug, face upwards, and throws back his head across her knees, looking up at her. Marchbanks Oh, I’ve been so miserable all the evening, because I was doing right. Now I’m doing wrong; and I’m happy. Candida Tenderly amused at him. Yes: I’m sure you feel a great grown up wicked deceiver⁠—quite proud of yourself, aren’t you? Marchbanks Raising his head quickly and turning a little to look round at her. Take care. I’m ever so much older than you, if you only knew. He turns quite over on his knees, with his hands clasped and his arms on her lap, and speaks with growing impulse, his blood beginning to stir. May I say some wicked things to you? Candida Without the least fear or coldness, quite nobly, and with perfect respect for his passion, but with a touch of her wise-hearted maternal humor. No. But you may say anything you really and truly feel. Anything at all, no matter what it is. I am not afraid, so long as it is your real self that speaks, and not a mere attitude⁠—a gallant attitude, or a wicked attitude, or even a poetic attitude. I put you on your honor and truth. Now say whatever you want to. Marchbanks The eager expression vanishing utterly from his lips and nostrils as his eyes light up with pathetic spirituality. Oh, now I can’t say anything: all the words I know belong to some attitude or other⁠—all except one. Candida What one is that? Marchbanks Softly, losing himself in the music of the name. Candida, Candida, Candida, Candida, Candida. I must say that now, because you have put me on my honor and truth; and I never think or feel Mrs. Morell: it is always Candida. Candida Of course. And what have you to say to Candida? Marchbanks Nothing, but to repeat your name a thousand times. Don’t you feel that every time is a prayer to you? Candida Doesn’t it make you happy to be able to pray? Marchbanks Yes, very happy. Candida Well, that happiness is the answer to your prayer. Do you want anything more? Marchbanks In beatitude. No: I have come into heaven, where want is unknown. Morell comes in. He halts on the threshold, and takes in the scene at a glance. Morell Grave and self-contained. I hope I don’t disturb you. Candida starts up violently, but without the smallest embarrassment, laughing at herself. Eugene, still kneeling, saves himself from falling by putting his hands on the seat of the chair, and remains there, staring open mouthed at Morell. Candida As she rises. Oh, James, how you startled me! I was so taken up with Eugene that I didn’t hear your latchkey. How did the meeting go off? Did you speak well? Morell I have never spoken better in my life. Candida That was first rate! How much was the collection? Morell I forgot to ask. Candida To Eugene. He must have spoken splendidly, or he would never have forgotten that. To Morell. Where are all the others? Morell They left long before I could get away: I thought I should never escape. I believe they are having supper somewhere. Candida In her domestic business tone. Oh; in that case, Maria may go to bed. I’ll tell her. She goes out to the kitchen. Morell Looking sternly down at Marchbanks. Well? Marchbanks Squatting cross-legged on the hearthrug, and actually at ease with Morell⁠—even impishly humorous. Well? Morell Have you anything to tell me? Marchbanks Only that I have been making a fool of myself here in private whilst you have been making a fool of yourself in public. Morell Hardly in the same way, I think. Marchbanks Scrambling up⁠—eagerly. The very, very, very same way. I have been playing the good man just like you. When you began your heroics about leaving me here with Candida⁠— Morell Involuntarily. Candida? Marchbanks Oh, yes: I’ve got that far. Heroics are infectious: I caught the disease from you. I swore not to say a word in your absence that I would not have said a month ago in your presence. Morell Did you keep your oath? Marchbanks Suddenly perching himself grotesquely on the easy chair. I was ass enough to keep it until about ten minutes ago. Up to that moment I went on desperately reading to her⁠—reading my own poems⁠—anybody’s poems⁠—to stave off a conversation. I was standing outside the gate of