Candida

Eugene steals to Morell and plucks him by the sleeve. Marchbanks Whispering. Stop, Morell. Don’t let us say anything. Morell Pushing Eugene away without deigning to look at him. I hope you don’t mean that as a threat, Candida. Candida With emphatic warning. Take care, James. Eugene: I asked you to go. Are you going? Morell Putting his foot down. He shall not go. I wish him to remain. Marchbanks I’ll go. I’ll do whatever you want. He turns to the door. Candida Stop! He obeys. Didn’t you hear James say he wished you to stay? James is master here. Don’t you know that? Marchbanks Flushing with a young poet’s rage against tyranny. By what right is he master? Candida Quietly. Tell him, James. Morell Taken aback. My dear: I don’t know of any right that makes me master. I assert no such right. Candida With infinite reproach. You don’t know! Oh, James, James! To Eugene, musingly. I wonder do you understand, Eugene! No: you’re too young. Well, I give you leave to stay⁠—to stay and learn. She comes away from the hearth and places herself between them. Now, James: what’s the matter? Come: tell me. Marchbanks Whispering tremulously across to him. Don’t. Candida Come. Out with it! Morell Slowly. I meant to prepare your mind carefully, Candida, so as to prevent misunderstanding. Candida Yes, dear: I am sure you did. But never mind: I shan’t misunderstand. Morell Well⁠—er⁠—He hesitates, unable to find the long explanation which he supposed to be available. Candida Well? Morell Baldly. Eugene declares that you are in love with him. Marchbanks Frantically. No, no, no, no, never. I did not, Mrs. Morell: it’s not true. I said I loved you, and that he didn’t. I said that I understood you, and that he couldn’t. And it was not after what passed there before the fire that I spoke: it was not, on my word. It was this morning. Candida Enlightened. This morning! Marchbanks Yes. He looks at her, pleading for credence, and then adds, simply: That was what was the matter with my collar. Candida After a pause; for she does not take in his meaning at once. His collar! She turns to Morell, shocked. Oh, James: did you⁠—? She stops. Morell Ashamed. You know, Candida, that I have a temper to struggle with. And he said shuddering that you despised me in your heart. Candida Turning quickly on Eugene. Did you say that? Marchbanks Terrified. No! Candida Severely. Then James has just told me a falsehood. Is that what you mean? Marchbanks No, no: I⁠—I⁠—blurting out the explanation desperately⁠—it was David’s wife. And it wasn’t at home: it was when she saw him dancing before all the people. Morell Taking the cue with a debater’s adroitness. Dancing before all the people, Candida; and thinking he was moving their hearts by his mission when they were only suffering from⁠—Prossy’s complaint. She is about to protest: he raises his hand to silence her, exclaiming: Don’t try to look indignant, Candida:⁠— Candida Interjecting. Try! Morell Continuing. Eugene was right. As you told me a few hours after, he is always right. He said nothing that you did not say far better yourself. He is the poet, who sees everything; and I am the poor parson, who understands nothing. Candida Remorsefully. Do you mind what is said by a foolish boy, because I said something like it again in jest? Morell That foolish boy can speak with the inspiration of a child and the cunning of a serpent. He has claimed that you belong to him and not to me; and, rightly or wrongly, I have come to fear that it may be true. I will not go about tortured with doubts and suspicions. I will not live with you and keep a secret from you. I will not suffer the intolerable degradation of jealousy. We have agreed⁠—he and I⁠—that you shall choose between us now. I await your decision. Candida Slowly recoiling a step, her heart hardened by his rhetoric in spite of the sincere feeling behind it. Oh! I am to choose, am I? I suppose it is quite settled that I must belong to one or the other. Morell Firmly. Quite. You must choose definitely. Marchbanks Anxiously. Morell: you don’t understand. She means that she belongs to herself. Candida Turning on him. I mean that and a good deal more, Master Eugene, as you will both find out presently. And pray, my lords and masters, what have you to offer for my choice? I am up for auction, it seems. What do you bid, James? Morell Reproachfully. Cand⁠—He breaks down: his eyes and throat fill with tears: the orator becomes the wounded animal. I can’t speak⁠— Candida Impulsively going to him. Ah, dearest⁠— Marchbanks In wild alarm. Stop: it’s not fair. You mustn’t show her that you suffer, Morell. I am on the rack, too; but I am not crying. Morell Rallying all his forces. Yes: you are right. It is not for pity that I am bidding. He disengages himself from Candida. Candida Retreating, chilled. I beg your pardon, James; I did not mean to touch you. I am waiting to hear your bid. Morell With proud humility. I have nothing to offer you but my strength for your defence, my honesty of purpose for your surety, my ability and industry for your livelihood, and my authority and position for your dignity. That is all it becomes a man to offer to a woman. Candida Quite quietly. And you, Eugene? What do you offer? Marchbanks My weakness! my desolation! my heart’s need! Candida Impressed. That’s a good bid, Eugene. Now I know how to make my choice. She pauses and looks curiously from one to the other, as if weighing them. Morell, whose lofty confidence has changed into heartbreaking dread at Eugene’s bid, loses all power of concealing his anxiety. Eugene,