PAUL. It will return.
DOLPHIN. But when—but when? Till it does I shall be impotent and in agony.
PAUL. I know the agony of waiting. I myself was engaged to a Rumanian princess in 1916. But owing to the sad collapse in the Rumanian rate of exchange I have had to postpone our union indefinitely. It is painful, but, believe me, it can be borne. (He looks at the cheque and then at his watch.) There are other things which are much worse. Believe me, Dolphin, it can be borne.
DOLPHIN. I suppose it can. For, when all is said, there are damned few of us who really take things much to heart. Julie de Lespinasses are happily not common. I am even subnormal. At twenty I believed myself passionate: one does at that age. But now, when I come to consider myself candidly, I find that I am really one of those who never deeply felt nor strongly willed. Everything is profoundly indifferent to me. I sometimes try to depress myself with the thought that the world is a cess-pool, that men are pathetic degenerates from the ape whose laboriously manufactured ideals are pure nonsense and find no rhyme in reality, that the whole of life is a bad joke which takes a long time coming to an end. But it really doesn’t upset me. I don’t care a curse. It’s deplorable; one ought to care. The best people do care. Still, I must say I should like to get possession of Miss Toomis. Confound that Grattarol woman. What on earth did she want to rush me like that for, do you suppose?
PAUL. I expect we shall find out now. (PAUL jerks his head towards the left. LUCREZIA and AMY are seen entering from the garden, LUCREZIA holds her companion’s arm and marches with a firm step towards the two men. AMY suffers herself to be drugged along.)
LUCREZIA. Vicomte, Miss Toomis wants you to tell her all about Correggio.
AMY (rather scared). Oh, really—I….
LUCREZIA. And (sternly)—and Michelangelo. She is so much interested in art.
AMY. But please—don’t trouble….
PAUL (bowing gracefully). I shall be delighted. And in return I hope Miss Toomis will tell me all about Longfellow.
AMY (brightening). Oh yes, don’t you just love Evangeline?
PAUL. I do; and with your help, Miss Toomis, I hope I shall learn to love her better.
LUCREZIA (to DOLPHIN, who has been looking from AMY to the VICOMTE and back again at AMY with eyes that betray a certain disquietude). You really must come and look at the moon rising over the hills, Mr. Dolphin. One sees it best from the lower terrace. Shall we go?
DOLPHIN (starts and shrinks). But it’s rather cold, isn’t it? I mean—I think I ought to go and write a letter.
LUCREZIA. Oh, you can do that to-morrow.
DOLPHIN. But really.
LUCREZIA. You’ve no idea how lovely the moon looks.
DOLPHIN. But I must….
LUCREZIA (lays her hand on his sleeve and tows hint after her, crying as she goes). The moon, the moon…. (PAUL and AMY regard their exit in silence.)
PAUL. He doesn’t look as though he much wanted to go and see the moon.
AMY. Perhaps he guesses what’s in store for him.
PAUL (surprised). What, you don’t mean to say you realised all the time?
AMY. Realised what?
PAUL. About la belle Lucrezia.
AMY. I don’t know what you mean. All I know is that she means to give Mr. Dolphin a good talking to. He’s so mercenary. It made me quite indignant when she told me about him. Such a schemer, too. You know in America we have very definite ideas about honour.
PAUL. Here too, Miss Toomis.
AMY. Not Mr. Dolphin. Oh dear, it made me so sad; more sad than angry. I can never be grateful enough to Signorina Grattarol.
PAUL. But I’m still at a loss to know exactly what you’re talking about.
AMY. And I am quite bewildered myself. Would you have believed it of him? I thought him such a nice man.
PAUL. What has he done?
AMY. It’s all for my money, Miss Grattarol told me. She knows. He was just asking me to marry him, and I believe I would have said Yes. But she came in just in the nick of time. It seems he only wanted to marry me because I’m so rich. He doesn’t care for me at all. Miss Grattarol knows what he’s like. It’s awful, isn’t it? Oh dear, I wouldn’t have thought it of him.
PAUL. But you must forgive him, Miss Toomis. Money is a great temptation. Perhaps if you gave him another chance….
AMY. Impossible.
PAUL. Poor Dolphin! He’s such a nice young fellow.
AMY. I thought so too. But he’s false.
PAUL. Don’t be too hard on him. Money probably means too much to him. It’s the fault of his upbringing. No one who has not lived among the traditions of our ancient aristocracy can be expected to have that contempt, almost that hatred of wealth, which is the sign of true nobility. If he had been brought up, as I was, in an old machicolated castle on the Loire, surrounded by ancestral ghosts, imbued with the spirit of the Crusaders and preux chevaliers who had inhabited the place in the past, if he had learnt to know what noblesse oblige really means, believe me, Miss Toomis, he could never have done such a thing.
AMY. I should just think he couldn’t, Monsieur de Barbazange.
PAUL. You have no idea, Miss Toomis, how difficult it is for a man of truly noble feelings to get over the fact of your great wealth. When I heard that you were the possessor of a hundred million dollars….
AMY. Oh, I’m afraid it’s more than that. It’s two hundred million.
PAUL. … of two hundred million dollars, then … it only makes it worse; I was very melancholy, Miss Toomis. For those two hundred million dollars were a barrier, which a descendant of Crusaders and preux chevaliers could not overleap. Honour, Miss Toomis, honour forbade. Ah, if only that accursed money had not stood in the way…. When I first saw you oh, how I was moved by that vision of beauty and innocence—I wanted nothing better than to stand gazing on you for ever. But then I heard about those millions. Dolphin was lucky to have felt no restraints. But enough, enough. (He checks a rising tide of emotion.) Give poor Dolphin another chance, Miss Toomis. At bottom he is a good fellow, and he may learn in time to esteem you for your own sake and to forget the dazzling millions.
AMY. Never. I can only marry a man who is entirely disinterested.
PAUL. But, can’t you see, no disinterested man could ever bring himself to ask you? How could he prove his disinterestedness? No one would believe the purity of his intentions.
AMY (much moved). It is for me to judge. I know a disinterested man when I see him. Even in America we can understand honour.
PAUL (with a sob in his voice). Good-bye Miss Toomis.
AMY. But no, I don’t want it to be good-bye.
PAUL. It must be. Never shall it be said of a Barbazange that he hunted a woman for her money.
AMY. But what does it matter what the world says, if I say the opposite?
PAUL. You say the opposite? Thank you, thank you. But no, good-bye.
AMY. Stop. Oh! you’re forcing me to do a most unwomanly thing. You’re making me ask you to marry me. You’re the only disinterested man I’ve ever met or, to judge from what I’ve seen of the world, I’m ever likely to meet. Haven’t you kept away from me in spite of your feelings? Haven’t you even tried to make me listen to another man—a man not worthy to black your boots? Oh, it’s so wonderful, so noble! It’s like something in a picture play. Paul, I offer myself to you. Will you take me in spite of my millions?
PAUL (falling on his knees and kissing the hem of AMY’S skirt). My angel, you’re right; what does it matter what the world says as long as you believe in me? Amy, amie, bien-aimée…. Ah, it’s too good too, too good to be true! (He rises to his feet and embraces her with an unfeigned enthusiasm.)
AMY. Paul, Paul…. And so this is love. Isn’t it wonderful?
PAUL (looking round anxiously). You mustn’t tell anyone about our engagement, my Amy. They might say unpleasant things in the hotel, you know.
AMY. Of course I won’t talk about it. We’ll keep our happiness to ourselves, won’t we?
PAUL. Entirely to ourselves; and to-morrow we’ll go to Paris and arrange about being married.
AMY. Yes, yes; we’ll take the eight o’clock train.
PAUL. Not the eight o clock, my darling. I have to go to the bank to-morrow to do a little business. We must wait till the twelve thirty.
AMY. Very well, then. The twelve-thirty. Oh, how happy I am!
PAUL. So am I, my sweetheart. More than I can tell you. (The sound of a window being opened is heard. They look up and see the BARONESS dressed in a peignoir of the tenderest blue, emerging on to the right hand of the three balconies.)
AMY. Oh, my soul! I think I’d better go in. Good-night, my Paul. (She runs in.)
SIMONE. Has that horrid little American girl gone? (She peers down, then, reassured, she blows a kiss to PAUL.) My Romeo!
PAUL. I come, Juliet.
SIMONE. There’s a kiss for you.
PAUL (throwing kisses with both hands). And there’s one for you. And another, and another. Two hundred million kisses, my angel.
SIMONE (giggling). What a lot!
PAUL. It is; you re quite right. Two hundred million…. I come, my Juliet. (He darts into
