Infomotions, Inc.The Man from Home /



Author:
Title: The Man from Home
Publisher: Project Gutenberg
Tag(s): hawcastle; pike; vasili; ethel; lady creech; almeric; mariano; ivanoff; creech; horace; lord hawcastle; hotel; miss granger; lady
Contributor(s): White, Luther S. [Illustrator]
Versions: original; local mirror; HTML (this file); printable
Services: find in a library; evaluate using concordance
Rights: GNU General Public License
Size: 28,919 words (really short) Grade range: 7-9 (grade school) Readability score: 66 (easy)
Identifier: etext15855
Delicious Bookmark this on Delicious

Discover what books you consider "great". Take the Great Books Survey.

The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Man from Home, by Booth Tarkington and
Harry Leon Wilson, Illustrated by Luther S. White


This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net





Title: The Man from Home


Author: Booth Tarkington and Harry Leon Wilson

Release Date: May 18, 2005  [eBook #15855]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN FROM HOME***


E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Josephine Paolucci, Joshua Hutchinson,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team



Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
      file which includes the original illustrations.
      See 15855-h.htm or 15855-h.zip:
      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/5/8/5/15855/15855-h/15855-h.htm)
      or
      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/5/8/5/15855/15855-h.zip)





THE MAN FROM HOME

by

BOOTH TARKINGTON and HARRY LEON WILSON

With Illustrations from Scenes in the Play

Harper & Brothers

1908







[Illustration: THE MAN FROM HOME]





TO

WILLIAM HODGE

THE MAN FROM HOME




ORIGINAL CAST OF CHARACTERS IN
_THE MAN FROM HOME_
BY
BOOTH TARKINGTON and HARRY LEON WILSON
PRESENTED UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF LIEBLER & CO.
AT THE STUDEBAKER THEATRE, CHICAGO
SEPTEMBER 29, 1907,
WHERE IT RAN FOR A YEAR; THEN OPENED IN NEW YORK
AT THE ASTOR THEATRE
AUGUST 17, 1908


CHARACTERS AND PLAYERS

DANIEL VOORHEES PIKE                    WILLIAM HODGE
THE GRAND DUKE VASILI VASILIVITCH       EBEN PLYMPTON
THE EARL OF HAWCASTLE                 E. J. RATCLIFFE
THE HON. ALMERIC ST. AUBYN            ECHLIN P. GAYER
IVANOFF                                  HENRY HARMON
HORACE GRANGER-SIMPSON                  HASSARD SHORT
RIBIERE                                 HARRY L. LANG
MARIANO                                 ANTHONY ASHER
MICHELE                               ANTONIO SALERNO
CARABINIERE                            A. MONTEGRIFFO
VALET DE CHAMBRE                         C. L. FELTON
ETHEL GRANGER-SIMPSON                   OLIVE WYNDHAM
COMTESSE DE CHAMPIGNY                   ALICE JOHNSON
LADY CREECH.                               IDA VERNON

TIME: THE PRESENT

PLACE: SORRENTO, SOUTHERN ITALY




ILLUSTRATIONS


THE MAN FROM HOME

"OH NO! SHE ACCEPTED ME"

"YES, SIR, DANIEL VOORHEES PIKE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, KOKOMO, INDIANA"

"_THIS_ IS MR. ST. AUBYN"

"THE NEW CHAUFFEUR FOR THE MACHINE, FROM NAPLES"

"YOU'RE AFTER SOMETHING THERE ISN'T ANYTHING TO"

"IVAN! DON'T KILL ME!"

"MY FRIEND, THERE IS SAND IN YOUR GEAR-BOX"

The illustrations are from photographs of scenes in the play made
especially for the book by Mr. Luther S. White.




CHARACTERS


MEN

DANIEL VOORHEES PIKE
Of Kokomo, Indiana

THE GRAND-DUKE VASILI VASILIVITCH

THE EARL OF HAWCASTLE

THE HON. ALMERIC ST. AUBYN
Son of Lord Hawcastle

IVANOFF

HORACE GRANGER-SIMPSON

RIBIERE
The Grand-Duke's secretary

MARIANO
Maitre d'hotel

MICHELE
A waiter

Two carabiniere

A valet de chambre

Several Sorrentine musicians and fishermen


WOMEN

ETHEL GRANGER-SIMPSON

COMTESSE DE CHAMPIGNY

LADY CREECH
Sister-in-law of Hawcastle

ACT I.--The terrace of the Hotel Regina Margherita on the cliff at
Sorrento. Morning.

ACT II.--The entrance garden. Afternoon.

ACT III.--An apartment in the hotel. Evening.

ACT IV.--The terrace. Morning.

The time is the present.

The scene is Sorrento, in Southern Italy.




THE FIRST ACT


SCENE: The terrace of the Hotel Regina Margherita, on the cliff at
Sorrento, overlooking the Bay of Naples.

There is a view of the bay and its semi-circular coast-line, dotted with
villages; Vesuvius gray in the distance. Across the stage at the rear
runs a marble balustrade about three feet high, guarding the edge of the
cliff. Upon the left is seen part of one wing of the hotel, entrance to
which is afforded by wide-open double doors approached by four or five
marble steps with a railing and small stoop. The hotel is of pink and
white stucco, and striped awnings shield the windows. Upon the right is
a lemon grove and shrubberies. There are two or three small white wicker
tea-tables and a number of wicker chairs upon the left, and a square
table laid with white cloth on the right.

As the curtain rises mandolins and guitars are heard, and the
"Fisherman's Song," the time very rapid and gay, the musicians being
unseen.

MARIANO, maitre d'hotel, is discovered laying the table down R.C. with
eggs, coffee, and rolls for two. He is a pleasant-faced, elderly man,
stout, swarthy, clean shaven; wears dress-clothes, white waist-coat, and
black tie. He is annoyed by the music.

MARIANO [calling to the unseen musicians crossly]. Silenzio!

[MICHELE enters from the hotel. He is young, clean-shaven except for a
dark mustache, wears a white tie, a blue coat, cut like dress-coat, blue
trousers with red side stripes, brass buttons; his waistcoat is of
striped red and blue.]

MICHELE [speaking over his shoulder]. Par ici, Monsieur Ribiere, pour le
maitre d'hotel.

[RIBIERE enters from the hotel.]

[MICHELE immediately withdraws.]

[RIBIERE is a trim, business-like young Frenchman of some distinction of
appearance. He wears a well-made English dark "cutaway" walking-suit, a
derby hat, and carries a handsome leather writing-case under his arm.]

RIBIERE. [as he enters]. Ah, Mariano!

MARIANO. [bowing and greeting him gayly]. Monsieur Ribiere! J'espere que
vous etes--

[He breaks off, turns on his heel toward the invisible musicians, and
shouts.]

Silenzio!

[He turns again quickly to RIBIERE.]

RIBIERE. [with a warning glance toward hotel]. Let us speak English.
There are not so many who understand.

MARIANO. [politely]. I hope Monsieur still occupy the exalt' position of
secretar' to Monseigneur the Grand-Duke.

RIBIERE. [sits and opens writing-case, answers gravely]. We will not
mention the name or rank of my employer.

MARIANO. [with gesture and accent of despair]. Again incognito! Every
year he come to our hotel for two, three day, but always incognito.

[He finishes setting the table.]

We lose the honor to have it known.

RIBIERE. [looking at his watch]. He comes in his automobile from Naples.
Everything is to be as on my employer's former visits--strictly
incognito. It is understood every one shall address him as Herr von
Groellerhagen--

MARIANO [repeating the name carefully]. Herr von Groellerhagen--

RIBIERE. He wishes to be thought a German.

[Takes a note-book from case.]

MARIANO. Such a man! of caprice? Excentrique? Ha!

RIBIERE. You have said it. Last night he talked by chance to a singular
North American in the hotel at Napoli. To-day he has that stranger for
companion in the automobile. I remonstrate. What use? He laugh for half
an hour!

MARIANO. He is not like those cousin of his at St. Petersburg an'
Moscowa. An' yet though Monseigneur is so good an' generoso, will not
the anarchist strike against the name of royalty himself? You have not
the fear?

RIBIERE [opening his note-book]. I have. He has _not_. I take what
precaution I can secretly from him. You have few guests?

MARIANO [smiling]. It is so early in the season. Those poor musician'
[nodding off right] they wait always at every gate, to play when they
see any one coming. There is only seex peoples in the 'ole house! All of
one party.

RIBIERE. Good! Who are they?

MARIANO. There is Milor', an English Excellency--the Earl of Hawcastle;
there is his son, the Excellency Honorabile Almeric St. Aubyn; there is
Miladi Creeshe, an English Miladi who is sister-in-law to Milor'
Hawcastle.

RIBIERE [taking notes]. Three English.

MARIANO. There is an American Signorina, Mees Granger-Seempsone. Miladi
Creeshe travel with her to be chaperone. [Enthusiastically.] She is
young, generosa, she give money to every one, she is multa bella, so
pretty, weeth charm--

RIBIERE [puzzled]. You speak now of Lady Creeshe?

MARIANO [taken aback]. Oh no, no, no! Miladi Creeshe is ol' lady
[tapping his ears]. Not hear well. Deaf. No pourboires. Nothing. I speak
of the young American lady, Mees Granger-Seempsone who the English
Honorabile son of Milor' Hawcastle wish to espouse, I think.

RIBIERE. Who else is there?

MARIANO. There is the brother of Mees Granger-Seempsone, a young
gentleman of North America. He make the eyes [laughing] all day at
another lady who is of the party, a French lady, Comtesse de Champigny.
Ha, ha! That amuse' me!

RIBIERE. Why?

MARIANO. Beckoss I think Comtesse de Champigny is a such good friend of
the ol' English Milor' Hawcastle. A maitre d'hotel see many things, an'
I think Milor' Hawcastle and Madame de Champigny have know each other
from long, perhaps. This dejeuner is for them.

RIBIERE. And who else?

MARIANO. It is all.

RIBIERE. Good! no Russians?

MARIANO. I think Milor' Hawcastle and Madame de Champigny have been in
Russia sometime.

RIBIERE [putting his note-book in his pocket]. Why?

MARIANO. Beckoss once I have hear them spik Russian togezzer.

RIBIERE. I think there is small chance that they recognize my employer.
His portrait is little known.

MARIANO. And this North American who come in the automobile--does _he_
know who he travel wiz? Does he know his Highness?

RIBIERE. No more than the baby which is not borned.

MARIANO [lifting his eyes to heaven]. Ah!

RIBIERE [looking at his watch]. Set dejeuner on the terrace instantly
when he arrive: a perch, petit pois, iced figs, tea. I will send his own
caviar and vodka from the supplies I carry.

MARIANO. I set for one?

RIBIERE. For two. He desires that the North American breakfast with him.
Do not forget that the incognito is to be absolute.

[Exit into hotel.]

MARIANO. Va bene, Signore!

[Puts finishing-touches to the table.]

[Enter from the grove, LORD HAWCASTLE. He is a well-preserved man of
fifty-six with close-clipped gray mustache and gray hair; his eyes are
quick and shrewd; his face shows some slight traces of high living; he
carries himself well and his general air is distinguished and high-bred.
He wears a suit of thinly striped white flannel and white shoes, a
four-in-hand tie of pale old-rose crape, a Panama hat with broad ribbon
striped with white and old-rose of the same shade as his tie. His accent
is that of a man of the world, and quite without affectation. He comes
at once upon his entrance to a chair at the table.]

[MICHELE enters at same time up left, with a folded newspaper.]

HAWCASTLE [as he enters]. Good-morning, Mariano!

MARIANO [bowing]. Milor' Hawcastle is serve.

[Takes HAWCASTLE'S hat and places it upon a stool behind table.]

MICHELE [hands HAWCASTLE newspaper from under his arm]. _Il Mattino_,
the morning journal from Napoli, Milor'.

HAWCASTLE [accepting paper and unfolding it]. No English papers?

MICHELE. Milor', the mail is late.

[Exit up left.]

HAWCASTLE [sitting]. And Madame de Champigny?

[MARIANO serves coffee, etc.]

[As HAWCASTLE speaks the COMTESSE DE CHAMPIGNY enters from hotel. She is
a pretty Frenchwoman of thirty-two. She wears a fashionable summer
Parisian morning dress, light and gay in color, a short-sleeved little
Empire jacket, and long gloves. She carries a parasol. Her elaborately
dressed hair is surmounted by a jaunty Parisian toque.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [lifting her hand gayly as she enters, and striking
a little attitude before she descends the steps]. Me voici!

HAWCASTLE [half rising and bowing]. My esteemed relative is still
asleep?

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [speaking gayly, with a very slight accent, as she
crosses to a chair at the table]. I trust your beautiful son has found
much better employment--as our hearts would wish him to.

HAWCASTLE. He has. He's off on a canter with the little American, thank
God!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [interjecting the word]. Bravo!

[She turns the hands of her gloves back and sips coffee, MARIANO
serving.]

HAWCASTLE [continuing]. But I didn't mean Almeric. I meant my august
sister-in-law.

[He reads the paper.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [smiling]. The amiable Lady Victoria Hermione
Trevelyan Creech has dejeuner in her apartment. What you find to read?

HAWCASTLE. I'm such a duffer at Italian, but apparently the people
along the coast are having a scare over an escaped convict--a Russian.

MARIANO [starting slightly, drops a spoon noisily upon a plate on the
table]. Pardon, Milor'!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [setting down her coffee abruptly]. A Russian?

HAWCASTLE [translating with difficulty]. "An escaped Russian bandit has
been traced to Castellamare--"

[Pauses.]

MARIANO [awe-struck]. Castellamare--not twelve kilometres from here!

HAWCASTLE [continuing]. "--and a confidential agent"--[looking
up]--secret-service man, I dare say--"has requested his arrest. But the
brigand tore himself"--[repeating slowly]--"tore himself"--What the
deuce does that mean?

MARIANO [bowing]. Pardon, Milor'--if I might--

HAWCASTLE. Quite right, Mariano!

[Handing him the paper.]

Translate for us.

MARIANO [reading rapidly, but with growing agitation which he tries to
conceal]. "The brigan' tore himself from the hands of the carabiniere
and without the doubts he conceal himself in some of those grotto near
Sorrento and searchment is being execute'. The agent of the Russian
embassy have inform' the bureau that this escaped one is a mos'
in-fay-mose robber and danger brigand."

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [quickly]. What name does the journal say he has?

MARIANO [hurriedly]. It has not to say. That is all. Will Milor' and
Madame la Comtesse excuse me? And may I take the journal? There is one
who should see it.

HAWCASTLE [indifferently]. Very well.

MARIANO. Thank you, Milor'!

[Bows hastily and hurries out up left.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [gravely, drawing back from the table.] I should
like much to know his name.

HAWCASTLE [smiling, and eating composedly]. You may be sure it isn't
Ivanoff.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [not changing her attitude]. How can one know it is
not [pauses and speaks the name very gravely] Ivanoff?

HAWCASTLE [laughing]. He wouldn't be called an infamous brigand.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [very gravely]. That, my friend, may be only Italian
journalism.

HAWCASTLE. Pooh! This means a highwayman--[finishes his coffee
coolly]--not--not an embezzler, Helene.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [taking a deep breath and sinking back in her chair
with a fixed gaze]. I am glad to believe it, but I care for no more to
eat. I have some foolish feeling of unsafety. It is now two nights that
I dream of him--of Ivanoff--bad dreams for us both, my friend.

HAWCASTLE [laughing]. What rot! It takes more than a dream to bring a
man back from Siberia.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Then I pray there has been no more than dreams.

[Music of mandolins and guitars heard off to the right with song--"The
Fisherman's Song."]

[Enter ETHEL gayly and quickly from the grove, her face radiant. She is
a very pretty American girl of twenty. She wears a light-brown linen
skirted coat, fitting closely, and a country riding-skirt of the same
material and color, with boots, a shirt-waist, collar and tie, and
three-cornered hat. She carries a riding-crop. She is followed by three
musicians (two mandolins and a guitar), who laughingly continue the
song. They are shabby fellows, two of them barefooted, wearing shabby,
patched velveteen trousers and blue flannel shirts open at the throat,
with big black hats, old and shapeless. One makes a low and sweeping bow
before ETHEL; she takes money from her glove and gives it to him, the
other two not discontinuing the song; the three immediately 'bout face
and go out gleefully, capering and still singing.]

HAWCASTLE [who has risen]. The divine Miss Granger-Simpson!

ETHEL [with a pronounced "English accent"]. The divinely happy Miss
Granger-Simpson!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [rising, running to her, and kissing her]. Oh, I
hope you mean--

HAWCASTLE [with some excitement in his voice]. You mean you have made my
son divinely happy?

[ETHEL, as he speaks, extricates herself laughingly from MADAME DE
CHAMPIGNY.]

ETHEL. Is not every one happy in Sorrento--[with a wave of her
riding-crop]--even your son?

[Exit laughingly and hurriedly into the hotel.]

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY goes to stool behind table and gets her parasol, as
HAWCASTLE resumes his seat.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah! that is good. Listen!

[A piano sounds from the room ETHEL has just entered, breaking loudly
and gayly into Chaminade's "Elevation." ETHEL'S voice is heard for a
moment, also, singing.]

She has flown to her piano. It looks well, indeed--our little
enterprise.

HAWCASTLE [grimly]. It's time. If Almeric had been anything but a clumsy
oof he'd have made her settle it weeks ago!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [quickly]. You are invidious, mon ami! My affair is
not settled--am _I_ a clumsy oof?

HAWCASTLE [leaning toward her across the table and speaking sharply and
earnestly]. No, Helene. _Your_ little American, brother Horace, is so in
love with you, if you asked him suddenly, "Is this day or night?" he
would answer, "It's Helene." But he's too shy to speak. You're a
woman--you can't press matters; but Almeric's a man--he can. He can urge
an immediate marriage, which means an immediate settlement, and a direct
one.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [seriously, quickly]. It will not be small, that
settlement?

[He shakes his head grimly, leaning back to look at her. She continues
eagerly.]

You have decide' what sum?

[He nods decidedly.]

What?

HAWCASTLE [sharply, with determination, yet quietly]. A hundred and
fifty thousand pounds!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excited and breathless]. My friend! Will she?

[Turns and stares toward ETHEL'S room, where the piano is still heard
softly playing.]

HAWCASTLE. Not for Almeric, but to be the future Countess of Hawcastle.
My sister-in-law hasn't been her chaperone for a year for nothing. And,
by Jove, she hasn't done it for nothing, either!

[He laughs grimly, moving back from the table.]

But she's deserved all I shall allow her.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [coldly]. Why?

HAWCASTLE [rising]. It was she who found these people. Indeed, we might
say that both you and I owe her something also. [Comes around behind
table to MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY.] Even a less captious respectability than
Lady Creech's might have looked askance at the long friendship [kisses
her hand] which has existed between us. Yet she has always countenanced
us, though she must have guessed--a great many things. And she will help
us to urge an immediate marriage. You know as well as I do that unless
it is immediate, there'll be the devil to pay. Don't miss _that_
essential: something must be done at once. We're at the
breaking-point--if you like the words--a most damnable insolvency.

[Enter ALMERIC from the grove. He is a fair, fresh-colored Englishman of
twenty-five, handsome in a rather vacuous way. He wears white duck
riding-breeches, light-tan leather riding-gaiters and shoes, a
riding-coat of white duck, a waistcoat light tan in shade, and a high
riding-stock, the collar of which is white, the "puffed" tie pink; a
Panama hat with a fold of light tan and white silk round the crown.
Carries a riding-crop.]

ALMERIC [as he enters]. Hello, Governor!

[His voice is habitually loud and his accent somewhat foppish, having a
little of the "Guardsman" affectation of languor and indifference.]

Howdy, Countess!

[He drops into a chair at the breakfast-table with a slight effect of
sprawling.]

HAWCASTLE [sharply]. Almeric!

ALMERIC. Out riding a bit ago, you know, with Miss Granger-Simpson.
Rippin' girl, _isn't_ she?

HAWCASTLE [leaning across the table toward him, anxiously]. Go on!

ALMERIC [continuing, slapping his gaiters carelessly with his crop].
Didn't stop with her, though.

HAWCASTLE [angrily]. Why not?

ALMERIC. A sort of man in the village got me to go look at a
bull-terrier pup. Wonderful little beast for points. Jolly
luck--_wasn't_ it? He's got a _head_ on him--

HAWCASTLE [bitterly]. We'll concede his _tremendous_ advantage over you
in that respect.

[Throws his cigar disgustedly into one of the coffee-cups on the table.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [eagerly]. Is that _all_ you have to tell us?

ALMERIC. Oh no! She accepted me.

[HAWCASTLE drops into a chair with a long breath of relief.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [waving her parasol]. Enfin! Bravo! And will she let
it be soon?

ALMERIC [sincerely]. I dare say there'll be no row about that; I've made
her aw'fly happy.

HAWCASTLE. On my soul, I believe you're right--and thank God you are!

[Rises as he speaks and walks up centre. Breaks off short as he sees
HORACE.]

[Illustration: "OH NO! SHE ACCEPTED ME"]

Here's the brother--attention now!

[HORACE enters the hotel. He is a boyish-looking American of twenty-two,
smooth-shaven. He wears white flannels, the coat double-breasted and
buttoned, the tie is light blue "puffing" fastened with a large pearl.
He wears light-yellow chamois gloves, white shoes, a small, stiff
English straw hat with blue-and-white ribbon. When he speaks it is with
a strong "English accent," which he sometimes forgets. At present he is
flushed and almost overcome with happy emotion. As he comes down the
steps MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY rushes toward him, taking both his hands.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excitedly]. Ah, my dear Horace Granger-Simpson! Has
your sister told you?

HORACE [radiant, but almost tearful]. She has, indeed. I assure you I'm
quite overcome.

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, dropping his hands, laughs deprecatingly, and
steps back from him.]

Really, I assure you.

HAWCASTLE [shaking hands with him very heartily]. My dear young friend,
not at all, not at all.

HORACE [fanning himself with his hat and wiping his brow]. I assure you
I am, I assure you I am--it's quite overpowering--_isn't_ it?

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah, poor Monsieur Horace!

ALMERIC. I say, don't take it that way, you know. She's very happy.

HORACE [crossing and grasping his hand]. She's worthy of it--she's
worthy of it. I know she is. And when will it be?

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Enchanting.

HAWCASTLE. Oh, the date? I dare say within a year--two years--

[COMTESSE starts to exclaim, but HAWCASTLE checks her.]

HORACE. Oh, but I say, you know! Isn't that putting it jolly far off?
The thing's settled, isn't it? Why not say a month instead of a year?

HAWCASTLE. Oh, if you like, I don't know that there is any real
objection.

HORACE. I do like, indeed. Why not let them marry here in Italy?

HAWCASTLE. Ah, the dashing methods of you Americans! Next you'll be
saying, "Why not here at Sorrento?"

HORACE. Well, and why not, indeed?

HAWCASTLE. And then it will be, "Why not within a fortnight?"

HORACE. And why should it not be in a fortnight?

HAWCASTLE. Ah, you wonderful people, you are whirlwinds, yet I see no
reason why it should not be in a fortnight.

ALMERIC [passively]. Just as you like, Governor, just as you like.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Enchanting.

HAWCASTLE. My son is all impatience!

ALMERIC [genially]. Quite so!

HAWCASTLE [gayly]. Shall we dispose at once of the necessary little
details, the various minor arrangements, the--the settlement?

[Interrupts himself with a friendly laugh.]

Of course, as a man of the world, of _our_ world, you understand there
_are_ formalities in the nature of a settlement.

HORACE [interrupting eagerly and pleasantly, laughing also]. Quite so,
of course, I know, certainly, perfectly!

HAWCASTLE [heartily]. We'll have no difficulty about _that_, my boy.
I'll wire my solicitor immediately, and he'll be here within two days.
If you wish to consult your own solicitor you can cable him.

HORACE [with some embarrassment]. Fact is, I've a notion our
solicitor--Ethel's man of business, that is--from Kokomo, Indiana, where
our Governor lived--in fact, a sort of guardian of hers--may be here
almost any time.

HAWCASTLE [taken aback]. A sort of guardian--_what_ sort?

HORACE [apologetically]. I really can't say. Never saw him that I know
of. You see, we've been on this side so many years, and there's been no
occasion for this fellow to look us up, but he's never opposed anything
Ethel wrote for; he seems to be an easygoing old chap.

HAWCASTLE [anxiously]. But would his consent to your sister's
marriage--or the matter of a settlement--be a necessity?

HORACE [easily]. Oh, I dare say; but if he has the slightest sense of
duty toward my sister, he'll be the first to welcome the alliance, won't
he?

HAWCASTLE [reassured]. Then when my solicitor comes, he and your man can
have an evening over a lot of musty papers and the thing will be done.
Again, my boy [taking HORACE'S hand], I welcome you to our family. God
bless you!

HORACE. I'm overpowered, you know--really overpowered.

[Fans himself again and wipes his forehead.]

HAWCASTLE. Come, Almeric.

[Aside to MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, whom he joins for a moment.]

Let him know it's a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.

[Exit into hotel, followed immediately by ALMERIC.]

[HORACE turns toward MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY; she gives him both hands.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [smiling]. My friend, I am happy for you.

HORACE [joyously]. Think of it, at the most a fortnight, and dear old
Ethel will be the Honorable Mrs. St. Aubyn, future Countess of
Hawcastle!

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, lightly, at the same time withdrawing her hands
and picking up her parasol from the chair where she has left it.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Yes, there is but those little arrangement over the
settlement paper between your advocate and Lord Hawcastle's; but you
Americans--you laugh at such things. You are big, so big, like your
country!

HORACE. Ah, believe me, the great world, the world of yourself,
Countess, has thoroughly alienated me.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [coming close to him, looking at him admiringly].
Ah, you retain one quality! You are big, you are careless, you are
free.

[She lays her right hand on his left arm. He takes her hand with his
right hand. They stand facing each other.]

HORACE [smiling]. Well, perhaps, in _those_ things I am American, but in
others I fancy I should be thought something else, shouldn't I?

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [earnestly]. You are a debonair man of the great
world; and yet you are still American, in that you are ab-om-i-nab-ly
rich. [She laughs sweetly.] The settlement--Such matter as that, over
which a Frenchman, an Italian, an Englishman might hesitate, you laugh!
Such matter as one-hundred-fifty thousand pounds--you set it aside; you
laugh! You say, "Oh yes--take it!"

HORACE [his eyes wide with surprise]. A hundred and fifty thousand
pounds! Why, that's seven hundred and fifty thous--[He pauses, then
finishes decidedly.] She couldn't use the money to better advantage.

[Enter ETHEL from the hotel. She has one thick book under her arm,
another in her hand.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [to HORACE, with deep admiration]. My friend, how
wise you are!

[She perceives ETHEL'S entrance over HORACE'S shoulder, and at once runs
to her, embraces her, and kisses her, crying.]

Largesse, sweet Countess of Hawcastle! Largesse! and au revoir! Adieu! I
leave you with your dear brother. A rivederci.

[She runs gayly out, waving her parasol to them as she goes.]

HORACE [going to ETHEL]. Dear old sis, dear old pal!

[Affectionately gives her hand a squeeze and drops it.]

ETHEL [radiant]. Isn't it glorious, Hoddy!

HORACE. The others are almost as pleased as we are.

[He leans back in chair, knees crossed, hands clasped over knees, and
regards her proudly.]

ETHEL [opens the books she carries, laying them on one of the
tea-tables]. This is Burke's _Peerage_, and this is Froissart's
_Chronicles_. I've been reading it all over again--the St. Aubyns at
Crecy and Agincourt [with an exalted expression], and St. Aubyn will be
_my_ name!

HORACE [smiling]. They want it to be your name _soon_, sis.

ETHEL [suddenly thoughtful, speaks appealingly]. _You're_ fond of
Almeric, aren't you, Hoddy--_you_ admire him, don't you?

HORACE. Certainly. Think of all he represents.

ETHEL [enthusiastically]. Ah, yes! Crusader's blood flows in his veins.
It is to the nobility that _must_ be within him that I have plighted my
troth. I am ready to marry him when they wish.

HORACE. Then as soon as the settlement is arranged. It'll take about all
your share of the estate, sis, but it's worth it--a hundred and fifty
thousand pounds.

ETHEL [earnestly]. What better use could be made of a fortune than to
maintain the state and high condition of so ancient a house?

HORACE. Doesn't it seem impossible that we were born in Indiana!

[He speaks seriously, as if the thing were incredible.]

ETHEL [smiling]. But isn't it good that the pater "made his pile," as
the Americans say, and let us come over here when we were young to find
the nobler things, Hoddy--the _nobler_ things!

HORACE. The nobler things--the nobler things, sis. When old Hawcastle
dies I'll be saying, quite off-hand, you know, "My sister, the Countess
of Hawcastle--"

ETHEL [thoughtfully]. You don't suppose that father's friend, my
guardian, this old Mr. Pike, will be--will be QUEER, do you?

HORACE. Well, the governor himself was rather _raw_, you know. This is
probably a harmless enough old chap--easy to handle--

ETHEL. I wish I knew. I shouldn't like Almeric's family to think we had
queer connections of any sort--and he might turn out to be quite
shockingly American [with genuine pathos]. I--I couldn't bear it, Hoddy.

HORACE. Then keep him out of the way. That's simple enough. None of
them, except the solicitor, need see him.

[Instantly upon this there is a tremendous though distant commotion
beyond the hotel--wild laughter and cheers, the tarantella played by
mandolins and guitars, also sung, shouts of "Bravo Americano!" and
"Yanka Dooda!" The noise continues and increases gradually.]

ETHEL [as the uproar begins]. What is that?

HORACE. Must be a mob.

[LADY CREECH, flustered and hot, enters from the hotel. She is a
haughty, cross-looking woman in the sixties.]

ETHEL [going to LADY CREECH, speaks close to her ear and loudly]. Lady
Creech--dear Lady Creech--what is the trouble?

LADY CREECH. Some horrible people coming to this hotel! They've made a
riot in the village.

[The noise becomes suddenly louder. MARIANO, immediately upon LADY
CREECH'S entrance, appears in hotel doors, makes a quick gesture toward
breakfast-table, and withdraws.]

[MICHELE, laughing, immediately enters by same doors, goes rapidly to
the breakfast-table and clears it. The others pay no attention to this.]

HORACE [at steps up left]. It's not a riot--it's a revolution.

LADY CREECH [sinking into a chair, angrily]. One of your horrid
fellow-countrymen, my dear. Your Americans are really too--

ETHEL [proudly]. Not _my_ Americans, Lady Creech!

HORACE. Not _ours_, you know. One could hardly say that, _could_ one?

ALMERIC [heard outside laughing]. Oh, I say, what a go! [Enters from the
hotel, laughing.] Motor-car breaks down on the way here; one of the
Johnnies in it, a German, discharges the chauffeur; and the other Johnny
[he throws himself sprawling into a chair], one of your Yankee chaps,
Ethel, hires two silly little donkeys, like rabbits, you know, to pull
the machine the rest of the way here. Then as they can't make it, by
Jove, you know, he puts himself in the straps with the donkeys, and
proceeds, attended by the populace. Ha, ha! I say!

[HORACE, gloomy, comes down and sits at tea-table.]

LADY CREECH [angrily, to ALMERIC]. Don't mumble your words, Almeric. I
never understand people when they mumble their words.

[RIBIERE, who looks anxious, appears in the hotel doorway, then stands
aside on the stoop for MARIANO and MICHELE; they enter and pass him with
trays, fresh cloth, etc., for table down right, which they rapidly
proceed to set. A valet de chambre enters up left, following them
immediately. He carries a tray with a silver dish of caviar and a
bottle of vodka. As he enters he hesitates for one moment, looking
inquiringly at RIBIERE, who motions him quickly toward MARIANO and
MICHELE, and withdraws. Valet rapidly crosses right to table, sets
caviar and vodka on the table, and exits up left. The others pay no
attention to any of this.]

ALMERIC. I went up to this Yankee chap, I mean to say--he was pullin'
and tuggin' along, you see, don't you?--and I said, "There you are,
three of you all in a row, _aren't_ you?"--meanin' him and the two
donkeys, Ethel, you see.

LADY CREECH [who has been leaning close to ALMERIC to listen]. Dreadful
person!

ALMERIC [continuing]. All he could answer was that he'd picked the best
company in sight.

ETHEL [annoyed, half under her breath]. Impertinent!

ALMERIC. No meanin' to it. I had him, you know, I rather think, didn't
I?

[HAWCASTLE enters with MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, a number of folded
newspapers under his arm. Simultaneously loud cheers are heard from the
village and a general renewal of the commotion.]

HAWCASTLE. Disgusting uproar!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [to ETHEL]. But we know that such Americans are not
of your class, cherie.

ETHEL. A dreadful person, I quite fear.

HAWCASTLE. The English papers.

[Lays papers on one of the tea-tables.]

ALMERIC. I'll take the _Pink 'Un_, Governor. I'm off.

[Starts to go, the _Pink 'Un_ under his arm.]

ETHEL [rather shyly]. For a stroll, Almeric? Would you like me to go
with you?

ALMERIC [somewhat embarrassed]. Well, I rather thought I'd have a quiet
bit of readin', you know.

ETHEL [coldly]. Oh!

[Exit ALMERIC rapidly up left.]

LADY CREECH [in a deep and gloomy voice]. The _Church Register_!

[HAWCASTLE gives her a paper. HORACE takes the London _Mail_. HAWCASTLE
takes the _Times_.]

[ETHEL and MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY walk back to the terrace railing,
chatting. The others seat themselves about the tea-tables to read.]

HORACE [unfolding his paper, speaks crossly to MARIANO]. Mariano, how
long is this noise to continue?

MARIANO [distractedly]. How can I know? We can do nothing.

MICHELE [smilingly, looking up from table where he has continued to
work]. The people outside will not go while they think there is once
more a chance to see the North American who pull the automobile with
those donkeys.

MARIANO. He have confuse' me; he have confuse' everybody. He will not be
content with the dejeuner till he have the ham and the eggs. And he will
have the eggs cooked only on one side, and how in the name of heaven can
we tell which side?

RIBIERE [appearing in the hotel doorway, speaks sharply but not loudly].
Garcon!

[MICHELE and MARIANO instantly step back from table and stand at
attention, facing front, like soldiers. RIBIERE exits quickly again into
hotel.]

HAWCASTLE [looking up from paper]. Upon my soul, who's all this?

MARIANO [not turning his head, replies in an awed undertone]. It is Herr
von Groellerhagen, a German gentleman, Milor'.

HAWCASTLE [amused, to HORACE]. Man that owned the automobile. Probably
made a fortune in sausages.

VASILI [heard within the hotel, approaching]. Nein, nein, Ribiere! 'S
macht nichts!

[He enters from the hotel. He is a portly man of forty-five, but rather
soldierly than fat. His hair, pompadour, is reddish blond, beginning to
turn gray, like his mustache and large full beard; the latter somewhat
"Henry IV." and slightly forked at bottom. His dress produces the effect
rather of carelessness than of extreme fashion. He wears a
travelling-suit of gray, neat enough but not freshly pressed, the
trousers showing no crease, the coat cut in "walking-coat style," with
big, slanting pockets, in which he carries his gloves, handkerchief,
matches, and a silver cigarette-case full of Russian cigarettes. On his
head is a tan-colored automobile cap with buttoned flaps. He is followed
by RIBIERE, who, anxious and perturbed, wishes to call his attention to
the item in the Neapolitan morning paper.]

VASILI [waving both RIBIERE and the paper aside, in high good-humor].
Las' mich, las' mich! Geh'n sie weg!

[RIBIERE bows submissively, though with a gesture of protest, and exit
into the hotel. The group about the tea-table watch VASILI with
hostility.]

LADY CREECH. What a dreadful person!

[VASILI crosses to his seat at the breakfast-table in front of MARIANO
and MICHELE, who bows profoundly as he passes.]

VASILI [lifting his hand in curt, semi-military salute, to acknowledge
the waiters' bows]. See to my American friend.

[MICHELE immediately hastens into the hotel. VASILI sits, and MARIANO
serves him.]

HAWCASTLE [to LADY CREECH, in her ear]. Quite right; but take care, he
speaks English.

LADY CREECH [glaring at VASILI]. Many thoroughly objectionable persons
do!

VASILI [apparently oblivious to her remark, to MARIANO]. My American
friend wishes his own national dish.

MARIANO [deferentially, and serving VASILI to caviar]. Yes, Herr von
Groellerhagen, he will have the eggs on but one of both sides and the
hams fried. So he go to cook it himself.

[Loud shouts and wild laughter from the street. HORACE, ALMERIC, and
LADY CREECH set their papers down in their laps and turn toward the
door.]

MARIANO. Ha! He return from the kitchen with those national dish.

ETHEL [glancing in the doorway]. How horrid!

[MICHELE backs out on the stoop from the doorway laughing, carrying a
platter of ham and eggs.]

MICHELE. He have gone to wash himself at the street fountain.

[Tumult outside reaches its height, the shouts of "Yanka Dooda!"
predominating.]

VASILI [laughing, clapping his hands]. Bravo! Bravo!

ETHEL. Horrible!

[PIKE enters from the hotel. He is a youthful-looking American of about
thirty-five, good-natured, shrewd, humorous, and kindly. His voice has
the homely quality of the Central States, clear, quiet, and strong, with
a very slight drawl at times when the situation strikes him as humorous,
often exhibiting an apologetic character. He does not speak a dialect.
His English is the United States language as spoken by the average
citizen to be met on a daycoach anywhere in the Central States. He is
clean-shaven, and his hair, which shows a slight tendency to gray, is
neatly parted on the left side. His light straw hat is edged with a
strip of ribbon. The hat, like the rest of his apparel, is neither new
nor old. His shirt, "lay-down" collar, and cuffs are of white,
well-laundered linen. He wears a loosely knotted tie. A linen
motor-duster extends to his knees. His waistcoat is of a gray mixture,
neither dark nor light. His trousers are of the same material and not
fashionably cut, yet they fit him well and are neither baggy at the
knees nor "high-water." His shoes are plain black Congress gaiters and
show a "good shine." In brief, he is just the average well-to-do but
untravelled citizen that you might meet on an accommodation train
between Logansport and Kokomo, Indiana. As he enters he is wiping his
face, after his ablutions, with a large towel, his hat pushed far back
on his head. The sleeves of his duster are turned back, and his
detachable cuffs are in his pocket. He comes through the doors rubbing
his face with the towel, but, pausing for a moment on the stoop, drops
the towel from his face to dry his hands. All except VASILI and the
waiters stare at him with frowns of annoyance.]

PIKE [beamingly unconscious of this, surprised, and in a tone of
cheerful apology, believing all the world to be as good-natured and
sensible as Kokomo would be under the circumstances]. Law! I didn't know
there was folks here. I reckon you'll have to excuse me.

[As he speaks he dries his hands quickly.]

Here, son!

[He hands the towel to MICHELE. PIKE rapidly descends the steps, goes to
the breakfast-table, joining VASILI and taking the seat opposite him.]

VASILI [gayly]. You're a true patriot, my friend. You allow no profane
hand to cook your national dish. I trust you will be as successful with
that wicked motor of mine.

PIKE [chuckling]. Lord bless your soul, I've put a self-binder together
after a pony-engine had butted it half-way through a brick deepoe!

[Tucks his napkin in collar of his waistcoat and applies himself to the
meal.]

[HORACE and HAWCASTLE read their papers, now and then casting glances of
great annoyance at PIKE.]

[LADY CREECH lets her periodical rest in her lap, and without any
abating or concealment, fixes PIKE with a basilisk glare which
continues. He is unconscious of all this, his back being three-quarters
to their group.]

VASILI [no pause]. You have studied mechanics at the University?

PIKE [smiling]. University? Law, no! On the old man's farm.

[VASILI nods gravely.]

HAWCASTLE [blandly, to HORACE]. Without any disrespect to you, my dear
fellow, what terrific bounders most of your fellow-countrymen are!

HORACE [greatly irritated]. Do you wonder sis and I have emancipated
ourselves?

HAWCASTLE. Not at all, my dear lad.

VASILI [to PIKE]. Can I persuade you to accept a little of one of my own
national dishes--caviar?

PIKE. Caviar? I've heard of it. I thought it was Rooshian.

VASILI [disturbed, but instantly recovering, himself]. It is German,
also. Will you not?

[He motions MARIANO to serve PIKE. MARIANO places a spoonful of caviar
on a silver dish at PIKE'S right.]

PIKE. I expect I'd never get to the legislature again if the boys heard
about it. Still, I reckon I'm far enough from home to take a _few_
risks.

[He loads a fork with caviar, and with a smile places it in his mouth.
The smile slowly fades, his face becomes thoughtful, then grave; he
slowly sets the fork upon his plate, his eyes turn toward VASILI with a
look both puzzled and plaintive, his mouth firmly closed, his jaw moving
slightly.]

VASILI. I fear you do not like it. A few swallows of vodka will take
away the taste.

[Gives him a glass, which PIKE accepts, drinking a mouthful in haste,
VASILI watching him, sincerely concerned and troubled. PIKE swallows the
vodka, quietly sets the glass down on the table, his eyelids begin to
flutter, he bends a look of suffering and distrust upon VASILI, slowly
rises and closes his eyes, then slowly sits and opens them. Gradually a
faint, distrustful smile appears on his face.]

PIKE [in the voice of a convalescent]. I never had any business to leave
Indiana!

VASILI. I am sorry, my friend.

[PIKE takes another large forkful of caviar.]

VASILI [observing this]. But I thought you did not like the caviar?

PIKE. It's to take away the taste of the vodka.

VASILI [laughing]. I lift my hat to you.

PIKE. You never worked on a farm in your own country, Doc?

VASILI. That has been denied me.

PIKE. I expect so. Talk about things to drink! Harvest-time, and the
women folks coming out from the house with a two-gallon jug of ice-cold
buttermilk!

[Sets down the glass and whistles softly with delight.]

[HORACE shows increasing signs of annoyance.]

VASILI. You still enjoy those delights?

PIKE. Not since I moved up to our county-seat ten years ago and began to
practice law. Things don't taste the same in the city.

VASILI. You do not like your city?

PIKE [not with braggadocio, but earnestly, almost pathetically]. Like
it? Well, sir, for public buildings and architecture, I wouldn't trade
our State insane asylum for the worst-ruined ruin in Europe--not for
hygiene and real comfort.

VASILI. And your people?

PIKE. The best on earth. Out _my_ way folks are neighbors.

[HORACE snaps his paper sharply.]

VASILI. But you have no leisure class.

[VASILI is looking keenly at HAWCASTLE and HORACE as he speaks.]

PIKE. Got a pretty good-sized colored population.

VASILI. I mean no aristocracy--no great old families such as we have,
that go back and back to the Middle Ages.

PIKE [genially]. Well, I expect if they go back that far they might just
as well set down and stay there. No, sir, the poor in my country don't
have to pay taxes for a lot of useless kings and earls and first grooms
of the bedchamber and second ladies in waiting, and I don't know what
all. If anybody wants _our_ money for nothin' he has to show energy
enough to steal it. I wonder a man like you doesn't emigrate.

VASILI. Bravo!

HAWCASTLE [to HORACE]. Your countryman seems to be rather down on us!

HORACE. This fellow is distinctly of the lower orders. We should cut him
as completely in the States as here.

VASILI. I wonder you make this long journey, my friend, instead of to
spend your holiday at home.

PIKE. Holiday! Why, _I_ never had time even to go to Niagara Falls!

VASILI [to MARIANO]. Finito!

[Sets his napkin carelessly on table and lights a Russian cigarette.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. What is it he does with his serviette?

PIKE [moving his chair back from the table slightly, and folding his
napkin]. No, _sir_, you wouldn't catch me puttin' in any time in these
old kingdoms unless I had to.

LADY CREECH [loudly, to HAWCASTLE]. Hawcastle, can you tell me how much
longer these persons intend to remain here listening to our
conversation?

[PIKE half turns to LADY CREECH, innocently puzzled.]

HAWCASTLE. Oh, it isn't that; but it's somewhat annoying not to be
allowed to read one's paper in peace.

HORACE. Quite beastly annoying!

LADY CREECH. I had a distinct impression that the management had
reserved this terrace for our party.

VASILI [quietly]. I fear we have disturbed these good people.

PIKE [in wonder]. Do you think they're hinting at us?

VASILI. I fear so.

PIKE [gently and with sincere amazement]. Why, _we_ haven't done
anything to 'em.

VASILI. No, my friend.

PIKE [smiling]. Well, I guess there ain't any bones broken.

HORACE [throws down paper angrily on tea-table]. I can't stand this. I
shall go for a stroll.

PIKE [rising]. I expect it's about time for me to go and find the two
young folks I've come to look after.

VASILI. You are here for a duty, then?

PIKE [with gravity, yet smiling faintly]. I shouldn't be surprised if
that was the name for it. Yes, sir, all the way from Indiana.

[ETHEL utters a low cry of fear.]

[HORACE, having secured his hat, is just rising to go, drops back into
his chair with a stifled exclamation of dismay.]

[HAWCASTLE lays his paper flat on table. All this instantaneous.]

HAWCASTLE. By Jove!

[They all stare at PIKE.]

PIKE [continuing]. I expect, prob'ly, Doc, I won't be able to eat with
you this evening. You see--[he pauses, somewhat embarrassed]--you see,
I've come a mighty long ways to look after her, and she, prob'ly--that
is, _they'll_ prob'ly want me to have supper with _them_.

[The latter part of this speech is spoken rather breathlessly, though
not rapidly, and almost tremulously, and with a growing smile that is
like a confession.]

VASILI. Do not trouble for me. Your young people, they have a villa?

PIKE. No; they're right here in this hotel.

HORACE. I must get away!

[He says this huskily, almost in a whisper, as if to himself. His face
is tense with anxiety.]

VASILI [with a gesture of dismissal, though graciously]. Seek them. I
finish my cigarette.

PIKE. Guess I better ask.

[HORACE is crossing, meaning to get away through the grove.]

PIKE [addressing him]. Hey, there! Can you--

[HORACE, proceeding, pays no attention.]

PIKE [lifting his voice]. Excuse me, son, ain't you an American?

[More decidedly, to MARIANO.]

Waiter, tell that gentleman I'm speaking to him.

MARIANO [to HORACE]. M'sieu', that gentleman speak with you.

HORACE [agitated and angry]. What gentleman?

[MARIANO bows toward PIKE.]

PIKE [at same time genially]. I thought from your looks you must be an
American.

HORACE [turning haughtily]. Are you speaking to _me_?

PIKE [good-humoredly]. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. Ain't you an
American?

HORACE. I happen to have been born in the States.

PIKE [amiably]. Well, that _was_ luck!

HORACE [turning as if to go]. Will you kindly excuse me?

PIKE. Hold on a minute! I'm looking for some Americans here, and I
expect you know 'em--boy and girl named Simpson.

HORACE. Is there any possibility that you mean Granger-Simpson?

[His tone is both alarmed and truculent.]

PIKE [much pleased]. No, sir; just plain Simpson. Granger's their middle
name. That's for old Jed Granger, grandfather on their ma's side.

[He pronounces "ma" with the broad Hoosier accent--"maw."]

I want to see 'em both, but it's the girl I'm rilly looking for.

HORACE [trembling, but speaking even more haughtily]. Will you be good
enough to state any possible reason why Miss Granger-Simpson should see
you?

PIKE [in profound surprise, yet mildly]. Reason--why, yes--I'm her
guardian.

[ETHEL lifts her hand to her forehead as if dizzy. MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY
puts an arm around her. ETHEL recovers herself and stands rigidly,
staring at PIKE.]

HORACE [staggered]. What!

PIKE [smiling]. Yes, sir, Daniel Voorhees Pike, attorney at law, Kokomo,
Indiana.

[HORACE falls back from him in horror.]

[HAWCASTLE, excited but cool, makes a quick, imperative gesture to LADY
CREECH, who majestically sweeps up to ETHEL, kisses her on the forehead
in lofty pity, and sweeps out.]

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY kisses ETHEL compassionately on cheek and follows
LADY CREECH off.]

[MARIANO and MICHELE, having cleared the table, exeunt.]

HORACE [hoarse with shame, to PIKE; slight pause after PIKE'S last
speech.] I shall ask her if she will consent to an interview.

PIKE [at same time, astounded]. "Consent to an interview"? Why, I want
to _talk_ to her!

HAWCASTLE [quickly and earnestly to ETHEL]. This shall make no
difference to _us_, my child. Speak to him at once.

[Exit into the hotel.]

PIKE [to HORACE]. Don't you understand? I'm her _guardian_.

HORACE [with a desperate gesture]. I shall never hold up my head again!

[Rushes off.]

VASILI [gravely, to PIKE]. When you have finished your affairs, my
friend, remember my poor car yonder.

[Illustration: "YES, SIR, DANIEL VOORHEES PIKE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, KOKOMO,
INDIANA"]

PIKE [with a melancholy smile]. All right, Doc, I'm kind of confused
just now, but I reckon I can still put a plug back in a gear-box.

VASILI [at same time]. Then _au revoir_, my friend.

[Strolls off through the grove.]

PIKE [watching him go, thoughtfully]. Yes, _sir_!

ETHEL [haughtily, yet with the air of confessing a humiliating truth,
her eyes cast down]. I am Miss Granger-Simpson.

[As she speaks he turns and lifts his hand toward her as if suddenly
startled. He has not seen her until now. He stands for a moment in
silence, looking at her with great tenderness and pride.]

PIKE [with both wonder and pathos in his voice]. Why, I knew your pa
from the time I was a little boy till he died, and I looked up to him
more'n I ever looked up to anybody in my life, but I never thought he'd
have a girl like you!

[She turns from him; he takes a short step nearer her.]

He'd 'a' been mighty proud if he could see you now.

ETHEL [quickly, and with controlled agitation]. Perhaps it will be as
well if we avoid personal allusions.

PIKE [mildly]. I don't see how that's possible.

ETHEL [sitting]. Will you please sit down?

PIKE. Yes, ma'am!

[ETHEL shivers at the "ma'am."]

[He sits in the chair which HORACE has occupied, still holding his hat
in his hand.]

ETHEL [tremulously, her eyes cast down]. As you know, I--I--

[She stops, as if afraid of breaking down; then, turning toward him,
cries sharply.]

Oh, are you _really_ my guardian?

PIKE [smiling]. Well, I've got the papers in my grip. I expect--

ETHEL. Oh, I KNOW it! It is only that we didn't fancy, we didn't
expect--

PIKE. I expect you thought I'd be considerable older.

ETHEL. Not only _that_--

PIKE [interrupting gently]. I expect you thought I'd neglected you a
good deal [remorsefully], and it _did_ LOOK like it--never comin' to see
you; but I couldn't hardly manage the time to get away. You see, bein'
trustee of your share of the estate, I don't hardly have a fair show at
my law practice. But when I got your letter, eleven days ago, I says to
myself: "Here, Daniel Voorhees Pike, you old shellback, you've just got
to _take_ time. John Simpson trusted you with his property, and he's
done more [his voice rises, but his tone is affectionate and shows deep
feeling]--he's trusted you to look out for _her_, and now she's come to
a kind of jumpin'-off place in her life--she's thinking of gettin'
married; and you just pack your grip-sack and hike out over there and
stand _by_ her!"

ETHEL [frigidly]. I quite fail to understand your point of view. Perhaps
I had best make it at once clear to you that I am no longer _thinking_
of marrying.

PIKE [leaning back in his chair and smiling on her]. Well, Lord-a-Mercy!

ETHEL. I mean I have decided upon it. The ceremony is to take place
within a fortnight.

PIKE. Well, I declare!

ETHEL. We shall dispense with all delays.

PIKE [slowly and a little sadly]. Well, I don't know as I could rightly
say anything against that. He must be a mighty nice fellow, and you must
think a heap _of_ him!

[With a suppressed sigh.]

That's the way it should be.

[He smiles again and leans toward her in a friendly way.]

And you're happy, are you?

ETHEL [with cold emphasis, sitting very straight in her chair].
Distinctly!

[PIKE'S expression becomes puzzled, he passes his hand over his chin,
looks at her keenly. Then his eyes turn to the spot where HORACE stood
during their interview, and he starts, as though shocked at a sudden
thought.]

PIKE. It ain't that fellow I was talkin' to yonder?

ETHEL [indignantly]. That was my _brother_!

PIKE [relieved, but somewhat embarrassed]. Lord-a-Mercy!

[Recovering himself immediately and smiling.]

But, naturally, I wouldn't remember him. He couldn't have been more than
twelve years old last time you were home. Of course, I'd 'a' known
_you_--

ETHEL. How? You couldn't have seen me since I was a child.

PIKE. From your picture. Though now I see--it _ain't_ so much like you.

ETHEL. You have a photograph of _me_?

PIKE [very gently]. The last time I saw your father alive he gave me
one.

ETHEL [frowning]. _Gave_ it to you?

PIKE. Gave it to me to look at.

ETHEL. And you remembered--

PIKE [apologetically]. Yes, ma'am!

ETHEL [incredulously]. Remembered well enough to _know_ me?

PIKE. Yes, ma'am!

ETHEL. It does not strike me as possible. We may dismiss the subject.

PIKE. Well, if you'd like to introduce me to your [laughing feebly and
tentatively, hesitates]--to your--

ETHEL. To my brother?

PIKE. No, ma'am; I mean to your--to the young man.

ETHEL. To Mr. St. Aubyn? I think it quite unnecessary.

PIKE. I'm afraid I can't see it just that way [with an apologetic
laugh]. I'll _have_ to have a couple of talks with him--sort of look him
over, so to speak. I won't stay around here spoilin' your fun any longer
than I can help. Only just for that, and to get a letter I'm expectin'
here from England. Don't you be afraid.

ETHEL. I do not see that you need have come at all. [Her lip begins to
tremble.] We could have been spared this mortification.

PIKE [sadly]. You mean _I_ mortify you? Why, I--I can't see how.

ETHEL. In a hundred ways--every way. That common person who is with
you--

PIKE [gently]. _He_ ain't common. You only think so because he's with
_me_.

ETHEL [sharply]. Who is he?

PIKE. He told me his name, but I can't remember it. I call him "Doc."

ETHEL. It doesn't _matter_! What _does_ matter is that you needn't have
come. You could have _written_ your consent.

PIKE [mildly]. Not without seeing the young man.

ETHEL. And you could have arranged the settlement in the same way.

PIKE [smiling]. Settlement? You seem to have _settled_ it pretty well
without me.

ETHEL. You do not understand. An alliance of this sort always entails a
certain settlement.

PIKE. Yes, ma'am--when folks get married they generally settle down
considerable.

ETHEL [impatiently]. Please listen. If you were at all a man of the
world, I should not have to explain that in marrying into a noble house
I bring my _dot_, my dowry--

PIKE [puzzled]. _Money_, you mean?

ETHEL. If you choose to put it that way.

PIKE. You mean you want to put aside something of your own to buy a lot
and fix up a place to start housekeeping--

ETHEL. No, _no_! I mean a settlement upon Mr. St. Aubyn directly.

PIKE. You mean you want to _give_ it to him?

ETHEL. If that's the only way to make you understand--_yes_!

PIKE [amused]. How much do you want to give him?

ETHEL [coldly]. A hundred and fifty thousand pounds.

PIKE [incredulously]. Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars!

ETHEL. _Precisely_ that!

PIKE [amazed]. Well, he _has_ made you care for him! I guess he must be
the Prince of the World, honey! He must be a great man. I expect you're
right about me not meetin' _him_! I prob'ly wouldn't stack up very high
alongside of a man that's big enough for you to think as much of as you
do of him. [Smiling.] Why, I'd have to squeeze every bit of property
your pa left you.

ETHEL. Is it _your_ property?

PIKE [gently]. I've worked pretty hard to take care of it for you.

ETHEL [rising impulsively and coming to him]. Forgive me for saying
that.

PIKE [smiling]. Pshaw!

ETHEL. It was unworthy of me, unworthy of the higher and nobler things
that life calls me to live up to [proudly]--that I _shall_ live up to.
The money means nothing to me--I am not thinking of that. It is merely a
necessary form.

PIKE. Have you talked with Mr. St. Aubyn about this settlement--this
present you want to make him?

ETHEL. Not with him.

PIKE [amused]. I thought not! You'll see--he wouldn't take it if I'd let
you give it to him. A fine man like that wants to make his own way, of
course. Mighty few men like to have fun poked at 'em about livin' on
their wife's money.

ETHEL [despairingly]. Oh, I _can't_ make you understand! A settlement
isn't a gift.

PIKE [as if humoring her]. How'd you happen to decide that just a
hundred and fifty thousand pounds was what you wanted to give him?

ETHEL. It was Mr. St. Aubyn's father who fixed the amount.

PIKE. His _father_? What's _he_ got to do with it?

ETHEL. He is the Earl of Hawcastle, the head of the ancient house.

PIKE. And he asks you for your property--asks you for it in so many
words?

ETHEL. As a _settlement_!

PIKE [aghast]. And your young man _knows_ it?

ETHEL. I tell you I have not discussed it with Mr. St. Aubyn.

PIKE [emphatically]. I reckon not! Well, sir, do you know what's the
first thing Mr. St. Aubyn will do when he hears his father's made such a
proposition to you? He'll take the old man out in the back lot and give
him a thrashing he won't forget to the day of his death!

[The roll of drums is heard, distant, as if sounding below the cliff;
bugle sounds at the same time.]

[MARIANO and MICHELE run hurriedly from the hotel and lean over
balustrade at back, as if watching something below the cliff.]

[RIBIERE enters quickly with them, takes one quick glance in same
direction, and hurries off.]

[PIKE and ETHEL, surprised, turn to look.]

MARIANO [calling to ETHEL as he enters]. A bandit of Russia,
Mademoiselle! The soldiers think he hide in a grotto under the cliff!

[ALMERIC comes on rapidly from the hotel, carrying a shot-gun.]

ALMERIC [enthusiastically, as he enters]. Oh, I _say_, fair sport, by
Jove! Fair sport!

PIKE [to ETHEL, indicating ALMERIC, chuckling]. I saw _him_ on the road
here--what's he meant for?

ALMERIC. Think I'll have a chance to pot the beggar, Michele?

[He joins MICHELE at balustrade.]

MICHELE. No, Signore, there are two companies of carabiniere.

[PIKE, delighted, chuckles aloud.]

ETHEL [angry, calling]. Almeric!

ALMERIC [turning]. Hallo!

ETHEL [frigidly]. I wish to present my guardian to you. [To PIKE.]
_This_ is Mr. St. Aubyn.

[Illustration: _THIS_ IS MR. ST. AUBYN]

ALMERIC [coming down]. Hallo, though! It's the donkey man, isn't it? How
very odd! You'll have to see the Governor and our solicitor about the
settlement. I've some important business here. The police are chasing a
bally convict chap under the cliffs over yonder, so you'll have to
excuse me. I'll have to be toddling.

[Goes up to terrace wall overlooking cliffs.]

You know there's nothing like a little convict shooting to break the
blooming monotony--what?

[The bugle sounds. ALMERIC turns and rushes off.]

Wait for me, you fellows! Don't hurt him till _I_ get there!

[His voice dies away in the distance.]

PIKE [turning to ETHEL with slow horror]. _Seven hundred and fifty
thousand dollars for_--How much do they charge over here for a _real_
man?

[She is unable to meet his eye. She turns, with flaming cheeks, and runs
into the hotel. He stands staring after her, incredulous, dumfounded, in
a frozen attitude.]


END OF THE FIRST ACT




THE SECOND ACT


Scene: Entrance garden of the hotel.

In the distance are seen the green slopes of vineyards, a ruined castle,
and olive orchards leading up the mountainside.

An old stone wall seven feet high runs across the rear of the stage.
This wall is almost covered with vines, showing autumn tints, crowning
the crest of the wall and hanging from it in profusion. There is a broad
green gate of the Southern Italian type, closed. A white-columned
pergola runs obliquely down from the wall on the right. The top of the
pergola is an awning formed by a skeleton of green-painted wooden strips
thickly covered by entwining lemon branches bearing ripening lemons.
Between the columns of the pergola are glimpses of a formal Italian
garden: flowers, hedges, and a broad flat marble vase on a slender
pedestal, etc. On the left a two-story wing of the hotel meets the wall
at the back and runs square across to the left; a lemon grove lies to
the left also. The wall of the hotel facing the audience shows open
double doors, with windows up-stairs and below, all with lowered
awnings. There is a marble bench at the left among shrubberies; an open
touring-car upon the right under the awning formed by the overhang of
the pergola; a bag of tools, open, on the stage near by, the floor
boards of the car removed, the apron lifted.

As the curtain rises, PIKE, in his shirt-sleeves, his hands dirty, and
wearing a workman's long blouse buttoned at neck, is bending over the
engine, working and singing, at intervals whistling "The Blue and the
Gray." His hat, duster, and cuffs are on the rear seat of the tonneau.

[Enter HORACE from the garden. He is flushed and angry; controls himself
with an effort, trying to speak politely.]

HORACE. Mr. Pike!

PIKE [apparently not hearing him, hammering at a bolt-head with a
monkey-wrench and singing].

"One lies down at Appomattox--"

HORACE [sharply]. Mr. Pike! Mr. Pike, I wish a word with you.

PIKE [looks up mildly]. Hum!

[He moves to the other side of the engine, rubbing handle of
monkey-wrench across his chin as if puzzled.]

HORACE. I wish to tell you that the surprise of this morning so upset me
that I went for a long walk. I have just returned.

PIKE [regarding the machine intently, sings softly].

"One wore clothes of gray--."

[Then he whistles the air. Throughout this interview he maintains almost
constantly an air of absorption in his work and continues to whistle and
sing softly.]

HORACE [continuing]. I have been even more upset by what I have just
learned from my sister.

PIKE [absently]. Why, that's too bad.

HORACE. It _is_ too bad--absurdly--monstrously bad! She tells me that
she has done you the honor to present you to the family with which we
are forming an alliance--to the Earl of Hawcastle--her fiance's father--

PIKE [with cheerful absent-mindedness--working]. Yes, sir!

HORACE [continuing]. To her fiance's aunt, Lady Creech--

PIKE. Yes, sir! the whole possetucky of them. [Singing softly.] "She was
my hanky-panky-danky from the town of Kalamazack!" Yes, sir--that French
lady, too.

[He throws a quick, keen glance at HORACE, then instantly appears
absorbed in work again, singing,]

"She ran away with a circus clown--she never did come back--Oh, Solomon
Levi!"

[Continues to whistle the tune softly.]

HORACE. And she introduced you to her fiance--to Mr. St. Aubyn himself.

PIKE [looking up, monkey-wrench in hand]. Yes, sir [chuckles]; _we_ had
quite a talk about shootin' in Indiana; said he'd heard of Peru, in his
school history. Wanted to come out some day, he said, and asked what our
best game was. I told him we had some Incas still preserved in the
mountains of Indiana, and he said he'd like a good Inca head to put up
in his gun-room. He _ought_ to get one, _oughtn't_ he?

[Starts to work again, busily.]

HORACE [indignantly]. My sister informs me that in spite of Lord
Hawcastle's most graciously offering to discuss her engagement with you,
you refused.

PIKE. Well, I didn't see any need of it.

HORACE. Furthermore, you allege that you will decline to go into the
matter with Lord Hawcastle's solicitor.

PIKE. What matter?

HORACE [angrily]. The matter of the settlement.

PIKE [quietly]. Your sister kind of let it out to me awhile ago that you
think a good deal of this French widow lady. Suppose you make up your
mind to take her for richer or poorer--what's _she_ going to give _you_?

HORACE [roaring]. Nothing! What do you mean?

PIKE. Well, I thought you'd probably charge her [with a slight drawl] a
_little_, anyhow. Ain't that the way over here?

[Turns to work again, humming "Dolly Gray."]

HORACE. It is impossible for you to understand the motives of my sister
and myself in our struggle _not_ to remain in the vulgar herd. But can't
you try to comprehend that there is an Old-World society, based not on
wealth, but on that indescribable something which comes of ancient
lineage and high birth? [With great indignation.] You presume to
interfere between us and the fine flower of Europe!

PIKE [straightening up, but speaking quietly]. Well, I don't know as the
folks around Kokomo would ever have spoke of your father as a "fine
flower," but we thought a heap of him, and when he married your ma he
was so glad to get her--well, I never heard yet that he asked for any
_settlement_!

HORACE. You are quite impossible.

PIKE. The fact is, when she took him he was a poor man; but if he'd a
had seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, I'll bet he'd 'a' given
it for her.

[Starts to hammer vigorously, humming "Dolly Gray."]

HORACE. There is no profit in continuing the discussion.

[Turns on his heel, but immediately turns again toward PIKE, who is
apparently preoccupied.]

And I warn you we shall act without paying the slightest attention to
you. [Triumphantly.] What have you to say to that, sir?

[PIKE'S answer is conveyed by the motor-horn, which says: "Honk! Honk!"
HORACE throws up his hands despairingly. PIKE'S voice becomes audible in
the last words of the song: "Good-bye, Dolly Gray."]

[Enter LADY CREECH and ALMERIC through the gates.]

HORACE [meeting them]. The fellow is hopeless.

LADY CREECH [not hearing, and speaking from habit, automatically].
Dreadful person!

[PIKE continues his work, paying no attention.]

ALMERIC [to HORACE]. Better let him alone till the Governor's had time
to think a bit. Governor's clever. He'll fetch the beggar about somehow.

LADY CREECH [with a Parthian glance at the unconscious PIKE]. I sha'h't
stop in the creature's presence--I shall go up to my room for my forty
winks.

[Exit into the hotel.]

ALMERIC [as she goes out]. Day-day, aunt! [To HORACE.] I'm off to look
at that pup again. You trust the Governor.

HORACE [as ALMERIC goes]. I do, I do. It is insufferable, but I'll wait.

[Exit into the garden.]

[PIKE stands for a moment, contemplating the car in some despondency,
still humming or whistling.]

[LADY CREECH, after a few moments, appears at a window in the upper
story of the hotel. Unseen by PIKE, she pulls up the awning for a better
view, and drops lace curtains inside of window so as to screen herself
from observation. Sits watching.]

[Immediately upon HORACE'S exit MARIANO, flustered, enters hurriedly
from the hotel, goes to the gates, and fumbles with the lock. At the
same time VASILI enters from the garden, smoking.]

VASILI. You make progress, my friend?

PIKE. Your machine's like a good many people--got sand in its gear-box.

VASILI [to MARIANO]. Are you locking us in?

MARIANO [excitedly coming down and showing a big key which he has taken
from the lock]. No, Herr von Groellerhagen, I lock some one _out_--that
bandit who have not been capture. The carabiniere warn us to close all
gates for an hour. They will have that wicked one soon. There are two
companies. [In a lower tone to VASILI.] Monsieur Ribiere has much fears.

VASILI. Monsieur Ribiere is sometimes a fool.

MARIANO [in a hoarse whisper]. Monsieur, this convict is a Russian.

[VASILI waves him away somewhat curtly.]

[Exit MARIANO, shaking his head, carrying the key with him.]

PIKE. Two companies of soldiers! A town marshal out my way would 'a' had
him yesterday.

VASILI. My friend, you are teaching me to respect your country, not by
what you brag, but by what you do.

PIKE. How's that.

VASILI [significantly]. I see how a son of that great democracy can
apply himself to a dirty machine, while his eyes are full of visions of
one of its beautiful daughters.

PIKE [slowly and sadly, peering into the machine]. Doc, there's sand in
your gear-box.

VASILI [laughing]. So?

PIKE. You go down to the kitchen and make signs for some of the help to
give you a nice clean bunch of rags.

VASILI [surprised into hauteur]. What is it you ask me to do?

PIKE. I need some more rags.

VASILI [amused]. My friend, I obey.

[Makes a mock-serious bow and starts.]

PIKE. I won't leave the machine--'twouldn't be safe.

VASILI [halting, laughs]. You fear this famous bandit would steal it?

PIKE. No; but there's parties around here might think it was a
settlement.

VASILI. I do not understand.

PIKE [chuckling]. Doc, that's where we're in the same fix.

VASILI. Weidersehn, my friend.

[Exit into hotel.]

[PIKE kneels on the foot-board of machine above gear-box, begins to
clean, using an old rag, singing "Sweet Genevieve." A distant shot is
heard. PIKE looks up at this, ceasing to sing. Then he continues his
work and music. LADY CREECH leans out from her window, staring off to
the right with opera-glasses. There is a noise at the gates as some one
hastily but cautiously tries to open them. PIKE looks up again, turns
toward the gates, and, after a short pause, again begins to sing and
work, but very softly.]

[IVANOFF appears on top of the wall at back, climbing up cautiously from
lane below. He creeps from the wall to the top of pergola and cautiously
along that through the foliage to above PIKE. He peers over the foliage
at PIKE.]

[PIKE looks up slowly, and, as slowly, stops "Sweet Genevieve," his
voice fading away on a half syllable as he encounters IVANOFF'S gaze.
They stare at each other, LADY CREECH observing unseen.]

[IVANOFF is a thin, very fragile-looking man of thirty-eight. His
disordered hair is prematurely gray, his beard is a grizzled four days'
stubble. He is exceedingly haggard and worn, but has the face and look
of a man of refinement and cultivation. He has lost his hat; his shoes
and trousers are splashed with dried mud, and brambles cling to him here
and there. He wears a soiled white shirt and collar, and a torn black
tie, black waistcoat and trousers. He is covered with dust from head to
foot; one sleeve of his shirt has been torn off at the elbow. He wears
no coat.]

IVANOFF [in a voice tremulous with tragic appeal]. Et ce que vous etes
un homme de bon coeur? Je ne suis pas coupable--

PIKE [very gravely]. There ain't any use in the world your talkin' to me
like that!

IVANOFF [panting]. You are an Englishman?

PIKE [quietly, rising and stepping back]. That'll do for _that._ You
come down from there!

IVANOFF [in a voice that lifts, almost cracks, with sudden hope]. An
American?

PIKE. They haven't made me anything else yet.

IVANOFF [swinging himself down to the ground]. Thank God for that!

[He leans against the car, exhausted.]

PIKE. I do. What makes _you_ so glad about it?

IVANOFF. Because I have suffered in the cause your own forefathers gave
their lives for. I am a Russian political fugitive, and I can go no
farther. If you give me up I shall not be taken alive. I have no weapon,
but I can find a way to cut my throat.

PIKE [with humorous incredulity]. Are _you_ the bandit they're lookin'
for?

IVANOFF. They call me that. Do I look like a bandit?

PIKE. How close are they?

IVANOFF [with despairing gesture]. There!

PIKE. Did they see you climb that wall?

IVANOFF. I think not.

[There comes a loud ringing at the gates. At the sound IVANOFF starts
violently, throwing one arm up as if to shield his face from a blow.]

IVANOFF. Oh, my God! it is they!

[He staggers back against the machine.]

PIKE [hastily stripping off his working blouse]. Do you know anything
about gear-box plugs?

[The ringing continues.]

IVANOFF. Nothing in the world.

PIKE. Then you're a chauffeur. [Puts blouse on him.] Take a look at this
one. [With emphatic significance.] It's _underneath_ the machine.

[Quickly sets his hands on IVANOFF'S shoulders, having forced the blouse
on him, and pushes him beneath the car.]

MARIANO [within the hotel, calling]. Subito! Subito! Vengo, Signore!
Vengo!

[PIKE at same time rapidly wipes his hands on a rag, puts on his hat,
cuffs, and coat, which have been lying on the seat.]

MARIANO [running on, flustered]. Corpo de St. Costanzo! Non posso essere
dapertutto allo stesso tempo. Vengo, vengo!

[He hastens to the gates with his key, unfastening busily. Meanwhile
PIKE lights a cigar.]

MARIANO. Ecco! [Throws open gates and falls back in astonishment.] Dio
mio!

[Two carabiniere, good-looking, soldierly men in the carabiniere
uniform, cocked hats, white cross-belts, etc., are disclosed, their
carbines slung over their arms, their long cloaks thrown back. Behind
the carabiniere stand some fishermen in red caps, dirty flannel shirts,
and trousers rolled up to the knee; also a few ragged beggars.]

FIRST CARABINIERE [as gate is opened]. Buon giorno!

[The two carabiniere enter briskly.]

MARIANO. [springing forward and closing gate, calling to crowd outside].
No, no!

FIRST CARABINIERE. Ceerchimo l'assassino Russo.

MARIANO. Dio mio! Non nell' Albergo Regina Margherita.

SECOND CARABINIERE [coming to PIKE]. Avete visto un uomo scavalcare il
muro?

PIKE [genially]. Wishing you many happy returns, Colonel!

MARIANO [greatly excited]. It is the robber of Russia. They think he
climb the wall, the assassin. The other carabiniere, they surround all
yonder. [Gesturing right and left.] These two they search here. They ask
you, please, have you see him climb the wall.

PIKE. No.

FIRST CARABINIERE. Ae quelcuno passato de qui?

MARIANO. He say has any one go across here?

PIKE. No.

FIRST CARABINIERE [pointing under the car]. Chi costui?

MARIANO. He want to know who that is.

PIKE. The new chauffeur for the machine, from Naples.

MARIANO. E lo chauffeur di un illustre personaggio padrone dell'
automobile.

FIRST CARABINIERE [bowing to PIKE]. Grazia, Signore. [To MARIANO.]
Cerchereremo nel giardino.

[Exit swiftly FIRST CARABINIERE to the right through pergola; SECOND to
the left.]

MARIANO. Dio mio! but those are the brave men, Signore. Either one shall
meet in a moment this powerful assassin who may take his lifes.

[Murmur of voice from back arises, sounds of running feet and shrill
whistles and pounding on gates.]

[MARIANO runs back, opens the gates, showing excited and clamoring
fishermen and beggars in the lane. They try to come in. He drives them
back with a napkin, which has been hanging over his arm, crying: "Vate,
vate! Devo dire al maresciallo di cacciarvi?"]

[Meanwhile VASILI has entered from the hotel, a bundle of clean white
rags in his hand.]

VASILI. Is there a new eruption of Vesuvius?

PIKE [meeting him and taking the rags]. No; it's an eruption of colonels
trying to arrest a high-school professor. I've got him under your car
there.

VASILI [astounded]. What!

PIKE. I told them he's your new chauffeur.

VASILI. My friend, do you realize the penalty for protecting a criminal
from arrest?

PIKE. We'll be proud of the risk.

[Speaks in an undertone to IVANOFF.]

This man owns the car. You can trust him the same as your own father.

VASILI [remonstrating]. My friend, my friend!

[Illustration: "THE NEW CHAUFFEUR FOR THE MACHINE, FROM NAPLES"]

PIKE [quietly]. Look out, the Governor's staff is coming back.

MARIANO [closing the gates and wiping his face]. Lazzaroni!

[At the same time FIRST CARABINIERE enters from right; SECOND
CARABINIERE from left.]

SECOND CARABINIERE. Niente!

FIRST CARABINIERE. Niente la!

[The two CARABINIERE cross briskly to each other as they speak, and
stand conferring.]

MARIANO. Grazia Dio! He has gone some other place!

PIKE [very casually to VASILI]. You'll have to get a new off front tire,
Doc. That one is pretty near gone. Better have Jim, here, put on the
spare when he gets through.

[The CARABINIERE beckon to MARIANO and speak to him.]

VASILI [seriously, stepping toward PIKE]. Do you know what you are
asking me to do?

PIKE [watching CARABINIERE]. To put on a new tire.

[VASILI, with exclamation and gesture of despair grimly tinged with
humor, turns away, greatly disturbed.]

MARIANO [addressing PIKE with an embarrassed bow]. The carabiniere with
all excuses beg if you will command the chauffeur to step forth from the
automobile.

PIKE. _No_, sir; I worked on that machine myself for three hours. He's
got his hands full of nuts and screws and bolts half fastened. If he
lays them down now to come out I don't know how long it'll take to get
them back in place. We want to get this job finished. [Continues with a
plaintive uplift of voice.] This is _serious_! Tell them to go on up
Main Street with their Knights of Pythias parade, and come around some
day when we haven't got our hands full.

MARIANO [meekly]. I tell them--yes, sir.

[Turns and confers with the CARABINIERE.]

PIKE. It'll be your turn in a minute, Doc; be mighty careful what you
say.

MARIANO. Because the chauffeur have been engaged only to-day and have
just arrived, the carabiniere ask ten thousand pardons, but inquire how
long he have been known to his employer.

[He bows to VASILI with embarrassment.]

PIKE. How long? Why, he was raised on his father's farm.

[He faces VASILI, and stretches his arm out toward him as if for
corroboration.]

MARIANO [to VASILI]. Oh, if that is so!

PIKE. It _is_ so; ain't it, Doc?

VASILI [to. MARIANO, with dignity]. You have heard my friend say it.

MARIANO [to VASILI, in a serious undertone]. Monseigneur graciously
consents that I reveal his incognito to the carabiniere.

VASILI. Is it necessary?

MARIANO. Otherwise I fear they will not withdraw; they have suspicion.

VASILI [with a gesture of resignation]. Very well, tell them. I rely
upon them to preserve my incognito from all others.

MARIANO [bowing deeply]. Monseigneur, they will be discreet.

[Goes up to CARABINIERE and speaks to them.]

PIKE [aside to IVANOFF]. Make a noise--keep busy. [Then with more
emphasis.] But don't you unscrew anything!

MARIANO [to VASILI, smiling]. Monseigneur, they withdraw.

[The CARABINIERE, with great deference and gravity, salute VASILI. He
returns the salute curtly.]

FIRST CARABINIERE. Mille grazias, Signore!

[MARIANO throws the gates open, the two CARABINIERE go rapidly out,
sweeping the crowd away. MARIANO closes the gates.]

PIKE [giving MARIANO a coin]. You're pretty good. MARIANO. It required
but the slightest diplomacy, Signore. Thank you, Signore!

[Exit into the hotel.]

PIKE [puzzled]. He must have mesmerized the militia.

VASILI [glancing off]. It is quite safe for the time.

PIKE [going to the car]. It's all right, old man!

[Extends his hand to IVANOFF and helps him up from beneath the machine.]

IVANOFF. I will pray God for you all my life.

PIKE. Wait till we get you plumb out of the woods.

IVANOFF [to VASILI]. And you, sir, if I could speak my gratitude--

VASILI [crisply]. My American friend yonder has placed himself--and
myself--in danger of the penal code of Italy for protecting you. Perhaps
you will be so good as to let us know for what we have incriminated
ourselves.

IVANOFF [looking at him keenly]. You are a Russian?

PIKE. Don't be afraid--he's only a German.

IVANOFF [bitterly]. The Italian journals call me a brigand, inspired by
the Russian legation in Rome. My name is Ivanoff Ivanovitch.

PIKE [reassuringly]. All right, old man!

IVANOFF. I was condemned in Petersburg ten years ago. I was a professor
of the languages, a translator in the bureau of the Minister of Finance.
I was a member of the Society of the Blue Fifty, a constitutionalist.

PIKE. Good for you.

IVANOFF. I was able to do little for the cause, though I tried.

VASILI. How did you try?

IVANOFF. I transferred funds of the government to the Society of the
Blue Fifty. Never one ruble for myself. [Strikes himself on the breast.]
It was for Russia's sake--not mine!

VASILI [sharply]. But you committed the great Russian crime of getting
yourself caught?

IVANOFF. Through treachery. There was an Englishman who lived in
Petersburg. He had contracts with the government--I thought he was my
best friend. I had married in my student days in Paris--ah, it is the
old story [bitterly]! I knew that this Englishman admired my wife; but I
trusted him--as I trusted her--and he made my house his home. I had
fifty thousand rubles in my desk to be delivered to my society. The
police came to search; they found only me--but not my wife nor my
English friend--nor the fifty thousand rubles! I went to Siberia. Now I
search for those two.

VASILI [gravely]. Was it they who sent the police?

IVANOFF. After they had taken the money and were beyond the frontier
themselves. That is all I have against them.

PIKE [gently]. Looks to me like it would be enough.

VASILI. Then, by your own confession, you are an embezzler and a
revolutionist.

PIKE [going to VASILI quickly]. Why, the man's down; you wouldn't go
back on him now.

[With a half chuckle.]

Besides, you've made yourself one of his confederates.

VASILI. Upon my soul, so I have.

[Bursts into laughter and lays his hands on PIKE'S shoulders.]

My friend, from my first sight of you in the hotel at Napoli I saw that
you were a great man.

PIKE [grinning]. What are you doing, running for Congress?

VASILI [after a grave look at IVANOFF, turns to PIKE again]. I do not
think that the carabiniere went away without suspicion.

IVANOFF. Suspicion! They will watch every exit from the hotel and its
grounds. What can I do, until darkness--

PIKE [motioning toward the hotel]. Why, Doc's got the whole lower floor
of this wing--you're his chauffeur--

VASILI [quickly, grimly]. I was about to suggest it. I have a room that
can easily be spared to Professor Ivanoff.

IVANOFF [going to them, greatly touched]. My friends, God bless both of
you!

[As he speaks he shakes hands with PIKE and turns to offer his hand to
VASILI, who, apparently without noticing it, goes up toward the hotel.]

PIKE. Don't waste time talkin' about that. I shouldn't be surprised if
you were hungry.

[Takes him by elbow and walks him to door of hotel.]

IVANOFF. I have had no food for a day.

VASILI [grimly]. My valet de chambre will attend to Professor Ivanoff's
needs. No one shall be allowed to enter his room.

PIKE. And don't you go out of it, either.

VASILI. He shall not. This way.

[The three go into the hotel. Immediately on their disappearance LADY
CREECH'S curtains are whisked aside; she pops out of the window with the
suddenness of Punch, leans far out with her head upside down, at the
risk of her neck, trying to watch them even after they have entered the
hotel. Laughter of MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY heard at left. LADY CREECH waves
her hand as if signalling in that direction and withdraws from window.]

[Enter HORACE and MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY from the garden, he carrying her
parasol and looking into her eyes. She is laughing.]

[Enter LADY CREECH from the hotel, wildly excited.]

LADY CREECH. Have you seen my brother--where is Lord Hawcastle?

HORACE. On the other side of the hotel, Lady Creech; down there on the
last terrace just as far as you can go.

[Exit LADY CREECH down left.]

HORACE. Ah, but you laugh at me, chere Comtesse!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [gently]. It is because I cannot believe you are
always serious.

HORACE. Serious? Like a lady to her knight of old, set me some task to
prove how serious I am. [Deliriously.] Anything!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah, gladly! Complete those odious settlement!
Overcome the resistance of this bad man who so trouble your sweet
sister!

HORACE. You promise me when it is settled that I may speak to you
[becomes suddenly nervous and embarrassed]--that I may speak to you--

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [sweetly]. Yes--speak to me--

HORACE. Speak as--as you must know I want to speak--as I hardly dare--

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [softly, her eyes upon the ground]. Ah, that shall
be when you please, dear friend.

HORACE [almost choked with gratitude]. Oh!

[He kisses her hand.]

[HAWCASTLE and LADY CREECH enter from the garden, LADY CREECH talking
excitedly.]

[ALMERIC enters through the gates.]

LADY CREECH. I tell you I couldn't hear a word they said, they mumbled
their words so. But upon my soul, Hawcastle, if I couldn't hear, didn't
I _see_ enough?

HAWCASTLE. Upon my soul, I believe you did.

ALMERIC. Quite a family pow-wow you're havin'.

HAWCASTLE. Is there anything unusual in the village?

ALMERIC. Ra-ther! Carabiniere all over the shop--still huntin' that
bandit feller.

LADY CREECH. Don't mumble your words!

ALMERIC [shouting]. Lookin' for a bally bandit.

[She screams faintly.]

HAWCASTLE. Be quiet!

ALMERIC. He's still in this neighborhood, they think.

LADY CREECH [to HAWCASTLE]. What did I tell you? Now, how long--

HAWCASTLE. You shall not repeat one word of what you saw. Almeric, find
your betrothed and ask her to come here.

ALMERIC. Rumbo! I don't mind, pater!

[Exit into the hotel.]

HORACE. What's the row?

HAWCASTLE. My dear young man, I congratulate you that you and your
sister need no longer submit to an odious dictation.

[Enter PIKE briskly from the hotel.]

PIKE [as he enters, genially]. Looks to me like it was going to clear up
cold.

[LADY CREECH haughtily stalks off into the garden.]

HAWCASTLE [pleasantly]. Good-afternoon, Mr. Pike.

PIKE [going to the motor]. Howdy!

[Begins touching different parts of the engine.]

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY and HORACE haughtily follow LADY CREECH.]

HAWCASTLE [suavely, to PIKE]. Mr. Pike, it is an immense pity that there
should have been any misunderstanding in the matter of your ward's
betrothal.

PIKE [looking up for a moment, mildly]. Oh, I wouldn't call it a
misunderstanding.

HAWCASTLE. It would ill become a father to press upon the subject of his
son's merits--

PIKE [plaintively]. I don't want to talk about _him_ with you--I don't
want to hurt your feelings.

HAWCASTLE. Perhaps I might better put it on the ground of your ward's
wishes--of certain advantages of position which it is her ambition to
attain.

PIKE [troubled]. I can't talk about it with anybody but her.

[Enter MARIANO from the hotel with a letter on a tray. Goes to PIKE.]

HAWCASTLE. There is another matter--

[PIKE stands examining envelope of the letter in profound thought.]

I fear I do not have your attention.

[MARIANO goes into the hotel.]

PIKE [looking up]. Go ahead!

HAWCASTLE. There is _another_ matter to which I may wish to call your
attention.

PIKE [genially]. Oh, I'll talk about anything _else_ with you.

HAWCASTLE [suavely]. This is a question distinctly different
[with a glance at the hotel, his voice growing somewhat
threatening]--distinctly!

[ETHEL enters from the hotel.]

ETHEL [to HAWCASTLE, in a troubled voice]. You wished me to come here.

HAWCASTLE [going to her and taking her hand]. My child, I wish you to
have another chat with our strangely prejudiced friend on the subject so
near to all our hearts. And I wish to tell you that I see light
breaking through our clouds. Even if he prove obdurate, do not be
downcast--all will be well.

[Turns and goes out into the garden, his voice coming back in benign,
fatherly tones.]

All will be well!

[PIKE stands regarding ETHEL, who does not look up at him.]

PIKE [gently]. I'm glad you've come, Miss Ethel. I've got something here
I want to read to you.

ETHEL [coldly]. I did not come to hear you read.

PIKE. When I got your letter at home I wrote to Jim Cooley, our
vice-consul at London, to look up the records of these Hawcastle folks
and write to me here about how they stand in their own community.

ETHEL [astounded]. What!

PIKE. What's thought of them by the best citizens, and so on.

ETHEL [enraged]. You had the audacity--_you_--to pry into the affairs of
the Earl of Hawcastle!

PIKE. Why, I'd 'a' done that--I wouldn't 'a' stopped at anything--I'd'
'a' done that if it had been the Governor of Indiana himself!

ETHEL. You didn't consider it indelicate to write to strangers about my
intimate affairs?

PIKE [placatingly]. Why, Jim Cooley's home-folks! His office used to be
right next to mine in Kokomo.

ETHEL. It's monstrous--and when _they_ find what you've done--Oh, hadn't
you shamed me enough without this?

PIKE. I expect this letter'll show who ought to be ashamed. Now just
let's sit down here and try to work things out together.

ETHEL [with a slight, bitter laugh]. "Work things out together!"

PIKE. I'm sorry--for _you_, I mean. But I don't see any other way to do
it, except--together. Won't you?

[She moves slowly forward and sits at extreme left of the bench. He
watches her, noticing how far she withdraws from him, bows his head
humbly, with a sad smile, then sits, not quite at the extreme right of
the bench, but near it.]

PIKE. I haven't opened the letter yet. I want you to read it first, but
I ought to tell you there's probably things in it'll hurt your feelings,
sort of, mebbe.

ETHEL [icily]. How?

PIKE. Well, I haven't much of a doubt but Jim'll have some statements
in it that'll show you I'm right about these people. If he's got the
facts, I _know_ he will.

ETHEL. _How_ do you know it?

PIKE. Because I've had experience enough of life--

ETHEL. In Kokomo?

PIKE. Yes, ma'am! there's just as many kinds of people in Kokomo as
there is in Pekin, and I didn't serve a term in the legislature without
learning to pick underhand men at sight. Now that Earl, let alone his
havin' a bad eye--his ways are altogether too much on the stripe of T.
Cuthbert Bentley's to suit me.

[He opens the envelope slowly, continuing.]

T. Cuthbert was a Chicago gentleman with a fur-lined overcoat. He opened
up a bank in our town, and when he caught the Canadian express, three
months later, all he left in Kokomo was the sign on the front door. That
was _painted_ on. And as for the son. But there--I don't know as I have
a call to say more.

[Takes the letter from the envelope.]

Here's the letter; read it for yourself.

[Gives it to her, watching her as she reads.]

ETHEL [reading]. "Dear Dan: The Earldom of Hawcastle is one of the
oldest in the Kingdom, and the St. Aubyns have distinguished themselves
in the forefront of English battles from Agincourt and Crecy to
Sebastopol.

[She reads this in a ringing voice and glances at him.]

[PIKE looks puzzled and depressed.]

"The present holder of the title came into it unexpectedly through a
series of accidental deaths. He was a younger son's younger son, and had
spent some years in Russia in business--what, I do not know--under
another name. I suppose he assumed it that the historic name of St.
Aubyn might not be tarnished by association with trade. He has spent so
much of his life out of England that it is difficult to find out a great
deal about him. Nothing here in his English record is seriously against
him; though everything he has is mortgaged over its value, the entail
having been broken.

[ETHEL pauses and looks at PIKE, who, much disturbed, rises, and crosses
the stage.]

"As to his son, the Honorable Almeric, there's no objection alleged
against his character. That's all I've been able to learn."

[She finishes with an air of triumphant finality, and rises with a
laugh.]

A terrible indictment! So that was what you counted on to convince me of
my mistake?

PIKE [distressed]. Yes--it _was_!

ETHEL. Do you assert there is _one_ word in this seriously discreditable
to the reputation of Lord Hawcastle or Mr. St. Aubyn?

PIKE [humbly]. No.

ETHEL. And you remember, it is the testimony offered by your own friend
[scornfully]--by your own detective!

PIKE [ruefully]. Oh, if I wanted a detective I wouldn't get Jim
Cooley--at least, not any _more_!

[His attitude is thoroughly crestfallen.]

ETHEL [triumphantly, almost graciously]. I shall tell Lord Hawcastle
that you will be ready to take up the matter of the settlement the
moment his solicitor arrives.

PIKE. No, I wouldn't do that.

ETHEL [in a challenging voice]. Why not?

PIKE [doggedly]. Because I won't take up the matter of settlements with
him or any one else.

ETHEL [angrily]. Do you mean you cannot see what a humiliation your
interference has brought upon you in this?

PIKE. No; I see that plain enough.

ETHEL. Have you, after this, any further objections to my alliance with
Mr. St. Aubyn?

PIKE. It ain't an alliance with Mr. St. Aubyn that you're after.

ETHEL. Then what am I [pauses and lays scornful emphasis on the next
word] _after_?

[Illustration: "YOU'RE AFTER SOMETHING THERE ISN'T ANYTHING TO"]

PIKE [slowly]. You're after something there isn't anything to. If I'd
let you buy what you want to with your money and your whole life, you'd
find it as empty as the morning after Judgment Day.

[She turns from him, smiling and superior.]

You think because I'm a jay country lawyer I don't understand it and
couldn't understand _you_! Why, we've got just the same thing at home.
There was little Annie Hoffmeyer. Her pa was a carpenter and doing well.
But Annie couldn't get into the Kokomo Ladies' Literary Club, and her
name didn't show up in the society column four or five times every
Saturday morning, so she got her pa to give her the money to marry Artie
Seymour, the minister's son--and a _regular_ minister's son he was!
Almost broke Hoffmeyer's heart, but he let her have her way and went in
debt and bought them a little house on North Main Street. That was two
years ago. Annie's workin' at the depoe candy-stand now and Artie's
workin' at the hotel bar--in front--drinking up what's left of old
Hoffmeyer's--settlement!

ETHEL [outraged]. And you say you understand--you who couple the name of
a tippling yokel with that of a St. Aubyn--a gentleman of distinction.

PIKE. Distinction? I didn't know he was distinguished.

ETHEL [in a ringing voice]. His ancestors have fought with glory on
every field of battle from Crecy and Agincourt to the Crimea.

PIKE. But you won't _see_ much of his _ancestors_.

ETHEL. He bears their name.

PIKE [with authority and dignity]. Yes--and it's the _name_ you want.
Nobody could look at you and not know it wasn't _him_. It's the _name_!
And I'd let you buy it if it would make you happy--if you didn't have to
take the people with it.

[A deepening of color in the light shows that it has grown to be late
afternoon, near sunset.]

ETHEL [angrily]. The "people"?

PIKE. Yes; the whole gang. Can't you see how they're counting on it?
It's in their faces, in their ways! This Earl--don't you see he's
counting on living on you? Do you think the son would get that
settlement? Why, a Terre Hut pickpocket could get it away from
_him_--let alone his old man! What do _you_ think would become of the
"settlement"?

ETHEL. Part of it would go to the restoration of Hawcastle Hall and part
to Glenwood Priory.

PIKE. Glenwood Priory?

ETHEL. That is part of the estate where Almeric and I will live until
Lord Hawcastle's death.

PIKE. Then mighty little settlement would come around "Glenwood Priory"!

[Speaks the name as though grimly amused, and continues.]

And this old lady--this Mrs. Creech you been travelling with--

ETHEL [sharply]. Lady Creech!

PIKE. All right! Don't you think _she's_ counting on it? And this French
lady that's with them; isn't she trying to land your brother? The whole
crowd is on the track of John Simpson's money.

ETHEL. Silence! You have no right to traduce them. Do you place no value
upon heredity, upon high birth?

PIKE. Why, I think so much of it that I know John Simpson's daughter
doesn't need anybody else's to help her out.

[He comes toward her, looking at her with honest admiration.]

She's fine enough and I think she's sweet enough--and I know from the
way she goes for me that she's _brave_ enough--to stand on her own feet!

ETHEL. This is beside the point; I know exactly what I want in
life--[she has been somewhat moved by his last speech, is agitated, and
a little breathless]--and I could not change now if it were otherwise. I
gave Almeric my promise, it was forever, and I shall keep it.

PIKE. But you can't; I'm not going to let you.

ETHEL. I throw your interference to the winds. I shall absolutely
disregard it. I shall marry without your consent.

PIKE [looking at her steadily]. Do you think _they'd_ let you?

ETHEL [in same tone]. I think _you'll_ let me [laughing], especially
after this terrible letter.

PIKE. By-the-way, did you finish it?

[ETHEL looks at the letter, which she has continued to hold in her
hand.]

ETHEL. I think so. [Turns the page.] No--it says "over."

[She turns the sheet--looks at it attentively for a moment--looks up,
casts a quick glance of astonishment at PIKE.]

PIKE. Well, read it, please!

ETHEL. It appears to concern a matter quite personal to yourself.

[Embarrassed, assuming carelessness. Turns toward left as if to leave,
replacing the letter in the envelope.]

PIKE [advancing to her, smiling]. I don't think I've got any secrets.

ETHEL [coldly]. Please remember, I have not read anything on the last
page.

PIKE. Well, neither have I.

[Reaching his hand for the letter.]

ETHEL [more embarrassed]. Oh!

[She drops the letter on the bench.]

[PIKE picks it up and walks slowly toward right, taking it from
envelope. She stands looking after him with breathless amazement, far
from hostile, yet half turned as if to go at once. PIKE, taking the
letter out of the envelope, suddenly looks back at her. At this she is
flustered and starts, but halts at sound of the "Fishermen's Song" in
the distance. The sunset is deepening to golden red; the "Fishermen's
Song" begins with mandolins and guitars, and then a number of voices are
heard together.]

ETHEL. Listen: those are the fishermen coming home.

[PIKE stands in arrested attitude, not having looked at the letter. The
song, beginning faintly, grows louder, then slowly dies away in the
distance. The two stand listening in deepening twilight.]

PIKE [as the voices cease to be heard]. It's mighty pretty, but it's
kind of foreign and lonesome, too. [With a sad half-chuckle.] I'd rather
hear something that sounded more like home. [A growing tremulousness in
his voice.] I expect you've about forgot everything like that, haven't
you?

ETHEL [gently]. Yes.

PIKE. Seems funny, now; but out on the ocean, coming here, I kept kind
of looking forward to hearing you sing. I knew how high your pa had you
educated in music, and, like the old fool I was, I kept thinking you'd
sing for me some evening--"Sweet Genevieve" mebbe. You know it--don't
you?

ETHEL [slowly]. "Sweet Genevieve?" I used to--but it's rather
old-fashioned and common, isn't it?

PIKE. I expect so; I reckon mebbe that's the reason I like it so much.

[With an apologetic and pathetic laugh.]

Yes'm, it's my favorite. I couldn't--I couldn't get you to sing it for
me before I go back home--could I?

ETHEL. I--I think not.

[She looks at him thoughtfully, then goes slowly into the hotel.]

[PIKE sighs, and begins to read the last page of the letter.]

PIKE [reading]. "I am sorry old man Simpson's daughter thinks of buying
a title. Somehow I have a notion that that may hit you, Dan.

[Poignant dismay and awe are expressed in his voice as he continues.]

"I haven't forgotten how you always kept that picture of her on your
desk. The old man thought so much of you I had an idea he hoped she'd
come back some day and marry a man from home."

I don't wonder she said she hadn't read it!

[His face begins to light with radiant amazement.]

But she _had_--and she didn't go away--that is, not _right_ away!

[LORD HAWCASTLE and HORACE enter from the hotel.]

HORACE [speaking as they enter]. But, Lord Hawcastle, Ethel says Mr.
Pike positively refuses.

HAWCASTLE. Leave him to me. Within ten minutes he will be as meek as a
nun.

[HORACE goes into the hotel.]

My dear Pike, there is a certain question--

PIKE [in his mildest tone]. I don't want to seem rough with you, but I
meant what I said.

HAWCASTLE. Imagining I did not mean _that_ question--

PIKE. Then it's all right.

HAWCASTLE. Late this afternoon I developed a great anxiety concerning
the penalty prescribed by Italian law for those unfortunate and
impulsive individuals who connive at the escape or concealment--[he
speaks with significant emphasis and a glance at the hotel, where lights
begin to appear in the windows]--of certain other unfortunates who may
be, to speak vulgarly, wanted--by the police.

PIKE [coolly]. You're anxious about that, are you?

HAWCASTLE. So deeply that I ascertained the penalty for it. You may
confirm my information by appealing to the nearest carabiniere--strange
to say, many of them are very near. The minimum penalty for one whose
kind heart has thus betrayed him--[he turns up sharply toward the
lighted windows of hotel, then sharply again to PIKE, his voice
lifting]--is two years' imprisonment, and Italian prisons, I am credibly
informed, are quite ferociously unpleasant.

PIKE [gently]. Well, being in jail _any_ place ain't much like an Elks'
carnival.

HAWCASTLE. There would be no escape, even for a citizen of your
admirable country, if his complicity were established, especially if he
happened to be--as it were--caught in the act!

PIKE [grimly]. Talk plain; talk plain.

HAWCASTLE. My dear young friend, imagine that a badly wanted man appears
upon the pergola here and makes an appeal of I know not what nature to
one of your fellow-countrymen, who--for the purposes of argument--is at
work upon this car. Say that the too-amiable American conceals the
fugitive under the automobile, and afterward, with the connivance of a
friend, deceives the officers of the law and shelters the criminal, say
in a room of that lower suite yonder.

[His voice shows growing excitement as a man's shadow appears on the
shade of the window nearest the door.]

Imagine, for instance, that the shadow which at this moment appears on
the curtain were that of the wanted man--_then_, would you not agree
that a moderate and reasonable request of your fellow-countryman might
be acceded to?

PIKE [swallowing painfully]. What would be the nature of that request?

HAWCASTLE. It would concern a certain alliance; _might_ concern a
certain settlement.

PIKE. If the request were refused, what would the consequences be?

HAWCASTLE. Two years, at least, for the American, and the friend who had
been his accessory. Altogether I should consider it a disastrous
situation.

PIKE [thoughtfully]. Yes; looks like it.

HAWCASTLE [with sharp significance]. If this fellow-countryman of yours
were assured that the law would be made to take its course if a
favorable answer were not received--say, by ten o'clock to-night--what,
in your opinion, would his answer be?

PIKE [plaintively]. Well, it would all depend upon which of my
countrymen you caught. If it depended on the one I know best, he'd tell
you he'd see you in _hell_ first!

[The two remain staring fixedly at each other as the curtain slowly
descends.]


END OF THE SECOND ACT




THE THIRD ACT


SCENE: A handsome private salon in the hotel the same evening. There are
cabinets against the walls, buhl tables, luxurious tapestried chairs,
etc. At back, double doors, wide open, disclose a brilliantly lit
conservatory and hall with palms and oleanders in bloom. On the left a
heavily curtained window looks out upon the garden; on the right is a
closed door. Unseen, an orchestra is playing an aria from "Pagliacci."

The rise of the curtain discloses PIKE sitting in a dejected attitude in
an arm-chair. He wears a black tie, collar and linen as before, black
trousers, a white waistcoat, cut rather low, and a black
frock-coat--"Western statesman" style--not fashionably cut, but
well-fitting and graceful.

MARIANO passes through the conservatory at back bearing a coffee-tray.
LADY CREECH, in an evening gown of black velvet and lace, follows with
stately tread. HORACE, in evening clothes, follows, with MADAME DE
CHAMPIGNY on his arm; she is in a handsome, very Parisian, decollete
dress. They are deep in tender conversation.

ETHEL follows, on the arm of ALMERIC. She wears a pretty evening gown,
ALMERIC in evening clothes; her head is bent, her eyes cast down.

A valet de chambre enters the salon from the hall. He touches an
electric button on wall near door. RIBIERE comes quickly and noiselessly
from the room to the right. They stand bowing as VASILI enters through
the conservatory. Valet immediately closes the doors. VASILI wears an
overcoat trimmed with sables, a silk hat, evening clothes, and white
gloves; order ribbon in his button-hole.

PIKE [as VASILI enters]. I'm mighty glad you've come--I've been waiting.

VASILI [to RIBIERE, and speaking in undertone]. You have telegraphed for
the information?

RIBIERE. Yes, sir.

[Valet, with coat, hat, etc., goes out, followed by RIBIERE.]

VASILI. I have dined with an old tutor of mine. Once every year I come
here to do that.

[Valet returns with vodka and cigarettes, which he places on a table,
immediately withdrawing.]

VASILI [with a keen glance at PIKE]. And you; I suppose you dined with
the charming young lady, your ward, and her brother, as you expected?

PIKE [turning away sadly]. Oh no, they've got friends of their own
here.

VASILI. So I have observed.

[Sips vodka.]

PIKE. Oh, I don't mind their not asking me.

[With an assumption of cheerfulness.]

Fact is, these friends of hers are trying to get me to do something I
can't do--

VASILI. You need not tell me that, my friend. I have both eyes and ears;
I understand.

PIKE [troubled, coming near him]. I wish you understood the rest,
because it ain't easy for me to tell you. Doc, I'm afraid I've got you
into a pretty bad hole.

VASILI [smiling]. Ah, that I fear I do not understand.

PIKE [remorsefully]. I'm afraid I have. You and Ivanoff and me--all
three of us. This Hawcastle knows, and he knows it as well as I know
you're sittin' in that chair, that we've got that poor fellow in yonder.

[Pointing to the door on the right.]

VASILI. Surely you can trust Lord Hawcastle not to mention it. He must
know that the consequences for you, as well as for me, would be, to say
the least, disastrous. Surely you made that clear to him.

PIKE [grimly]. No; he made it clear to me. Two years in jail is the
minimum, and if I don't make up my mind by ten o'clock [VASILI looks at
his watch] to do what he wants me to do--

VASILI. What does he want you to do?

PIKE. The young lady's father trusted me to look after her, and if I
won't promise to let her pay seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars
for that--well, you've seen it around here, haven't you--

VASILI. I have observed it--that is, if you refer to the son of Lord
Hawcastle.

PIKE. Well, if I don't consent to do that, I reckon Ivanoff has to go
back to Siberia and you and I to jail.

VASILI. He threatens that?

PIKE. He'll _do_ that!

VASILI [looking at him sharply]. What do _you_ mean to do?

PIKE. There wouldn't be any trouble about it if it was only me. That
would make it easy. They could land me for two years [swallowing
painfully] or twenty. What makes it so hard is that I can't do what they
want, even to let you and Ivanoff out. It ain't my money. All I can do
is to ask you to forgive me, and warn you to get away before they come
down on me. This feller's _got_ me, Doc. Don't you see how it stands?
Ivanoff can't get away--

VASILI. No; I think he can't.

PIKE. They've got this militia all around the place.

VASILI. I passed through the cordon of carabiniere as I came in.

PIKE. [urgently]. But you could get away, Doc. Up to ten o'clock you can
come and go as you choose.

VASILI [rising]. So can you. You have not thought of that?

PIKE. No; and I won't think of it. But as for you--

VASILI. As for me [rings bell near door]--I shall go!

PIKE. That's part of the load off my mind. I can't bear to think of the
rest of it. I haven't known how to tell that poor fellow in there.

[Valet enters.]

VASILI [to valet, indicating the door on the right]. Appellez le
Monsieur la.

[Valet goes to the door, opens it, bowing slightly to IVANOFF, who
appears. Valet withdraws.]

[IVANOFF is very pale and haggard looking, but his clothes have been
mended and neatly brushed. He comes in slowly and quietly.]

VASILI [in the tone of a superior]. You may come in, Ivanoff. Some
unexpected difficulties have arisen. Your presence here has been
discovered by persons who wish evil to this gentleman who has protected
you. He can do nothing further to save you unless he betrays a trust
which has been left to him.

[IVANOFF swallows painfully, and looks pitifully from VASILI to PIKE.]

PIKE [coming down to IVANOFF, standing before him humbly]. It's the
truth, old man. I can't do it.

[IVANOFF'S head falls forward on his chest.]

IVANOFF [in a low voice]. I thank you for what you have tried to do for
me.

[Gives PIKE his hand. PIKE turns away.]

VASILI. You have until ten o'clock. [Valet appears in the doorway.]

Mon chapeau et pardessus.

[Exit valet.]

In the meantime my friend believes Naples a safe place for me.

[Valet returns with his coat, hat, and gloves.]

And so, auf weidersehn.

[Dismisses the valet with a gesture.]

PIKE [going to him and shaking hands heartily]. Good-bye, Doc, and God
bless you!

VASILI. To our next meeting.

[Exit briskly through the upper doors. As they close behind him,
IVANOFF'S manner changes. He goes rapidly to a table, picks up the
cigarettes, which are in a large silver open box, and touches the bottle
of vodka significantly.]

IVANOFF. I thought so--Russian!

PIKE. What!

IVANOFF. That man, your friend, who calls himself Groellerhagen, is not a
German--he is a Russian--not only that, he is a Russian noble. I see it
in a hundred ways that you cannot.

PIKE. Whatever he is, he helped us this afternoon. I'd trust him to the
bone.

IVANOFF. I have felt it inevitable that I should go back to Siberia. A
thousand times have I felt it since I entered these rooms.

[He goes down toward the window.]

PIKE. I know you feel mighty bad, but perhaps--perhaps--

IVANOFF. There is no perhaps for me. There was never any perhaps after I
met Helene.

PIKE [scratching his head]. Helene!

IVANOFF. Helene was my wife, she who sent me to Siberia, she and my
dear, accursed English friend.

PIKE [thoughtfully]. What was his name?

IVANOFF. His name--it was Glenwood. I shall not forget that name soon.

PIKE. What was he doing in Russia?

IVANOFF. I have told you he had contracts with the Ministry of
Finance--he supplied hydraulic machinery to the government. Does the
name Glenwood mean anything to you? Have you heard it?

PIKE [profoundly thoughtful, pauses, looking at IVANOFF sharply]. No.
[Then to himself.] And there must be a million Helenes in France.

IVANOFF. I prayed God to let me meet them before I was taken. But I talk
too much of myself. I wish to know--you--you will be safe. They can do
nothing to you, can they?

PIKE [with assumed cheerfulness]. Oh, I'm all right--don't worry about
me.

[Loud knock at the upper doors.]

IVANOFF [despairingly]. It is the carabiniere.

PIKE. Steady. [Looks at watch.] Not yet. Go back. We won't throw our
hands into the discard until we're called. We'll keep on raising.

[Exit IVANOFF through door on the right, closing it after him.]

[PIKE scratches his head and slowly says: "Helene." Then calls: "Come
in!"]

[MARIANO opens the upper doors from without and bows.]

MARIANO. Miladi Creesh--she ask you would speak with her a few minutes?

PIKE. All right! Where is she?

MARIANO. Here, sir.

PIKE. Come right in, ma'am!

[LADY CREECH enters.]

LADY CREECH [frigidly]. I need scarcely inform you that this interview
is not of my seeking. [She sits stiffly.] On the contrary, it is
intensely disagreeable to me. My brother-in-law feels that some one well
acquainted with Miss Granger-Simpson's ambitions and her inner nature
should put the case finally to you before we proceed to extremities.

PIKE. Yes, ma'am!

LADY CREECH [crossly]. Don't mumble your words if you expect me to
listen to you.

PIKE [cordially]. Go on, ma'am!

LADY CREECH. My brother-in-law has made us aware of the state of
affairs, and we are quite in sympathy with my brother-in-law's attitude
as to what should be done to you.

PIKE [in a tone of genial inquiry]. Yes, ma'am; and what do you think
ought to be done to me?

LADY CREECH. If, in the kindness of our hearts, we condone your offence,
we insist upon your accession to our reasonable demands.

PIKE [sardonically]. By ten o'clock!

LADY CREECH. Quite so.

PIKE. You say he told all of you? Has he told Miss Ethel?

LADY CREECH. It hasn't been thought proper. Young girls should be
shielded from everything disagreeable.

PIKE. Yes, ma'am; that's the idea that got me into this trouble.

LADY CREECH. I say, this young lady, who seems to be technically your
ward, is considered, by all of us who understand her, infinitely more
_my_ ward.

PIKE. Yes, ma'am! Go on.

LADY CREECH [loftily]. She came to me something more than a year ago--

PIKE [simply]. Did you advertise?

LADY CREECH [stung]. I suppose it is your intention to be offensive.

PIKE [protesting]. No, ma'am; I didn't mean anything. But, you see,
I've handled all her accounts, and her payments to you--

LADY CREECH [crushingly]. We will omit tradesman-like references! What
Lord Hawcastle wished me to impress on you is not only that you will
ruin yourself, but put a blight upon the life of the young lady whom you
are pleased to consider your ward. We make this suggestion because we
conceive that you have a preposterous sentimental interest yourself in
Miss Granger-Simpson.

PIKE [taken aback]. Me?

LADY CREECH. Upon what other ground are we to explain your conduct?

PIKE. You mean that I'd only stand between her and you for my own sake?

LADY CREECH. We can comprehend no other grounds.

PIKE [solemnly]. I don't believe you can! But you _can_ comprehend that
I wouldn't have any hope, can't you?

LADY CREECH. One never knows what these weird Americans hope. Hawcastle
assures me you have some such idea, but my charge has studied under my
instruction--deportment, manners, and ideals--which has lifted her above
the mere American circumstance of her birth. She has ambitions. If you
stand in the way of them she will wither, she will die like a caged
bird. All that was sordid about her parentage she has cast off. We have
thought that we might make something out of her.

PIKE [in a clear voice, looking at her mildly]. Make _something_ out of
her--yes, _ma'am!_

LADY CREECH [quickly]. Make something _better_ of her. We offer her this
alliance with a family which for seven hundred years--

PIKE. Yes, ma'am--Crecy and Agincourt--I know.

LADY CREECH. With a family never sullied by those low ideals of barter
and exchange which are the governing impulses of your countrymen.

PIKE. Seven hundred years--[fumbling in coat-pocket]--why, look here,
Mrs. Creech!

[At this LADY CREECH half rises from her chair with a profound shudder,
sinks back again; PIKE continues.]

I've got a letter right here [takes letter from pocket] that tells me
your brother-in-law was in business--and I respect him for it--only a
few years ago.

LADY CREECH [angrily]. A letter from whom?

PIKE. Jim Cooley, our vice-consul in London. Jim ain't the wisest man in
the world, but he seems to have this all right, and _he_ says Mr.
Hawcastle--

LADY CREECH [exploding]. _Mr._ Hawcastle!

PIKE [placatingly]. Well, I can call a person Colonel or Cap or Doc or
anything of that kind, but I just plain don't know how to use the kind
of words you have over here for those things. They don't seem to fit my
mouth, somehow. Just let me run on my own way. I don't mean to hurt your
feelings. Anyway, Jim says your brother-in-law was in business in
Russia.

[Up to this point he has gone on rapidly, but after the word "Russia" he
pauses abruptly as if startled by a sudden thought and slowly repeats.]

"In business in Russia!"

[He rises.]

LADY CREECH. This is beside the point entirely!

PIKE. It _is_ the point! Now, between us, ain't Jim right? Ain't it the
truth?

LADY CREECH [angry and agitated]. Since some of your vulgar American
officials have been spying about--

PIKE [with controlled excitement]. Your brother-in-law was in business
in Russia; so far, so good.

[Leans upon back of chair watching her, eager, but smiling cordially.]

I don't say he was peddling shoe-strings on the corner or selling
weinerwursts--

[LADY CREECH gives a slight scream of indignation.]

PIKE [continuing]. Probably something more hifalutin' and dignified than
that. He was probably agent for a wooden butter-dish factory.

LADY CREECH [enraged]. He had contracts with the Russian government
itself!

PIKE (staggering back, recovers himself immediately, and, speaking
sharply, but in a voice of great agitation). _Not_ for mining--_not_ for
hydraulic machines!

LADY CREECH. And even so he protected the historic name of St. Aubyn.

PIKE. By God, I believe you!

LADY CREECH. Don't mumble your words!

PIKE. Had he ever lived at Glenwood Priory?

LADY CREECH [indignantly]. Is your mind wandering? The priory belonged
to Hawcastle's mother. Can you state its connection with the subject?

PIKE. That's how he protected the historic name of St. Aubyn! That's the
name he took--Glenwood!

LADY CREECH. What of that?

PIKE [awe-struck]. God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform!

LADY CREECH. Oblige me by omitting blasphemous allusions in my
presence. What answer are you prepared to make to Lord Hawcastle?

PIKE [in a ringing voice]. Tell your brother-in-law that he can have my
answer in ten minutes--and he can come to me _here_ for it! I'll give it
in the presence of the young lady and her brother.

LADY CREECH [turning to go]. Her brother--certainly! He is in perfect
sympathy with our attitude. As for Miss Granger-Simpson's knowing
anything of this most disagreeable affair--no!

PIKE. I beg your pardon.

LADY CREECH. I shall not permit her to come near here. As her chaperone
I refuse. We all refuse!

PIKE. All right; refuse away.

LADY CREECH. I shall tell Lord Hawcastle--

PIKE. Ten minutes from now and in this room.

LADY CREECH. But Miss Granger-Simpson under no condition whatever.

[Sweeps out haughtily.]

[PIKE closes the doors behind her, touches an electric button over the
mantel, then sits at desk and writes hurriedly. Knock at upper doors.]

PIKE. Come in!

[Enter MARIANO.]

PIKE. Mariano, I want you to take this note to Miss Simpson.

[Quickly enclosing note in envelope and addressing it.]

MARIANO. To Mees Granger-Seempson?

PIKE. Do you know where she is?

MARIANO. She walks on the terrace alone.

PIKE. Give it to her yourself--to no one else--[emphatically]--and do it
now.

[Gives him the note.]

MARIANO. At once, sir!

[Going.]

PIKE. Hurry!

[Almost pushes him out of the upper doors and closes them. He goes
quickly to the door on the right, opens it, and calls.]

Ivanoff!

[IVANOFF opens the door and comes out apprehensively.]

IVANOFF [as he enters]. Have they come?

PIKE. Not yet! Ivanoff, you prayed to see your wife and your friend
Glenwood before you went back to Siberia.

IVANOFF [falling back with a cry]. Ah!

PIKE. If that prayer is answered through me, will you promise to
remember that it's my fight?

IVANOFF. Ah! it is impossible--you wish to play with me!

PIKE. Do I look playful?

[A bugle sounds sharply outside the window.]

IVANOFF [wildly]. The carabiniere--for me.

[The two rush together to the window.]

PIKE [thrusting IVANOFF behind him]. Don't show yourself!

IVANOFF. [looking out of the window over PIKE'S shoulder]. Look! Near
the lamp yonder--there by the doors--the carabiniere.

PIKE. They've been there since this afternoon.

[Shading his eyes from the light of the room with one hand.]

Look there--who on earth--who's that they've got with them?--Why, good
Lord! it's Doc!

[Astounded.]

IVANOFF. It is Herr von Groellerhagen! Did I not tell you he was a
Russian? He has betrayed me himself. He was not satisfied that others
should. [Bitterly.] I knew I was in the wolf's throat here!

PIKE. Don't you believe it! They've arrested poor old Doc. They got him
as he went out.

IVANOFF [pointing]. No; they speak respectfully to him. They bow to
him--

PIKE [grimly]. They'll be bowing to us in a minute. That's probably the
way these colonels run you in.

[Sharp knock on upper doors.]

PIKE [urging him toward the door on the right]. You wait till I call
you, and remember it's my fight.

IVANOFF [turning, half hysterically]. You _promise_ before I am taken
that I shall see--

[MARIANO enters at upper doors.]

PIKE [domineeringly, as he sees MARIANO]. And don't you forget what I've
been telling you--you get the sand out of that gear-box first thing
tomorrow morning, or I'll see that you draw your last pay Saturday
night.

[IVANOFF bows meekly and exit to right, closing door after him.]

MARIANO. Miss Granger-Seempson!

[Exit.]

PIKE. All right, Mariano!

[ETHEL enters haughtily.]

I'm much obliged to you for taking my note the right way. I've got some
pretty good reasons for not leaving this room.

[She is icy in manner, but her hands fidget with the note he has sent
her, crumpling it up.]

ETHEL [sitting]. Your note seemed so extraordinarily urgent--

PIKE. It had to be. Some folks who want to see me are coming here, and I
want you to see them--here. They'd stopped you from coming if they
could.

ETHEL [holding herself very straight in her chair]. There was no effort
to prevent me.

PIKE. No; I didn't give 'em time.

ETHEL. May I ask to whom you refer?

PIKE. The whole kit and boodle of 'em!

ETHEL [not relaxing her coldness]. You are inelegant, Mr. Pike.

PIKE. I haven't time to be elegant, even if I knew how.

ETHEL. Do you mean that my chaperone would disapprove?

PIKE. I shouldn't be surprised. I reckon the whole fine flower of Europe
would disapprove. "Disapprove?"--they'd _sand-bag_ you to keep you away!

ETHEL [rising quickly]. Oh, then I can't stay.

PIKE [going between her and the upper doors, speaks with ring of
domination]. Yes you can, and you will, and you've got to!

ETHEL [angrily]. "Got to!" I shall not!

PIKE. I'm your guardian, and you'll do as I say. You'll obey me this
once if you never do again.

[She looks at him defiantly; he faces her with determination, and
continues without pause.]

You'll stay here while I talk to these people, and you'll stay in spite
of anything they say or do to make you go.

[Slight pause; she yields and walks back to her chair. PIKE continues.]

God knows I hate to talk rough to you. I wouldn't hurt your feelings for
the world, but it's come to a point where I've got to use the authority
I have over you.

ETHEL [with a renewal of her defiance]. Authority? Do you think--

PIKE. You'll stay here for the next twenty minutes if I have to make
Crecy and Agincourt look like a Peace Conference!

[She looks at him aghast, sinks into chair by table; he continues after
a very slight pause.]

You and your brother have soaked up a society-column notion of life
over here; you're like old Pete Delaney of Terry Hut--he got so he'd
drink cold tea if there was a whiskey label on the bottle. They've
fuddled you with labels. It's my business to see that you know what kind
of people you're dealin' with.

ETHEL [almost in tears]. You're bullying me! I don't see why you talk so
brutally to me.

PIKE [sadly and earnestly]. Do you think I'd do it for anything but you?

ETHEL [angrily]. You are odious! Insufferable!

PIKE [humbly]. Don't you think I know you despise me?

ETHEL. I do not despise you; if I had stayed at home, and grown up
there, I should probably have been a provincial young woman playing
"Sweet Genevieve" for you to-night. But my life has not been that, and
you have humiliated me from the moment of your arrival here. You have
made me ashamed both of you and of myself. And now you have some
preposterous plan which will shame me again, humiliate both of us once
more, before my friends, these gentlefolk.

[A loud noise without. LADY CREECH'S voice is heard shouting.]

PIKE [dryly]. I think the gentlefolk are here.

[The upper doors up centre are thrown open; LADY CREECH hurriedly
enters, with MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY and HORACE, followed by ALMERIC.]

LADY CREECH. My dear child, what are you doing in this dreadful place
with this dreadful person?

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. My dear, les convenances!

HORACE. Ethel, I'm extremely surprised; come away at once!

ALMERIC. Oh, I say, you know, really, Miss Ethel! You can't stay here,
you know, _can_ you?

PIKE. I'm her guardian; she's here by my authority, she'll stay by my
authority.

[LORD HAWCASTLE appears in the open doors and bows sardonically to
PIKE.]

HAWCASTLE [suavely]. Ah, good-evening, Mr. Pike!

HORACE. Lord Hawcastle, will you insist upon Ethel's leaving? It's quite
on the cards we shall have a disagreeable scene here.

HAWCASTLE [smiling]. I see no occasion for it; we're here simply for Mr.
Pike's answer. He knows where we stand and we know where he stands.

PIKE [with a grim smile]. I reckon you're right so far.

HAWCASTLE [continuing]. And his answer will be yes.

PIKE [with quiet emphasis]. But you're wrong there!

HAWCASTLE [to HORACE, with sudden seriousness]. Perhaps you are right,
Mr. Granger-Simpson. Painful things may be done. Better the young lady
were spared them. Take your sister away.

[He motions HORACE toward the door.]

ALMERIC. For God's sake do--it may be quite rowdy.

LADY CREECH [to ETHEL at the same time]. My dear, you positively must!

HORACE. Ethel, I command you!

[ETHEL, troubled, half rises as if to go]

PIKE [imperiously, to ETHEL]. You stay right where you are!

ALMERIC [angrily]. Oh, I say!

LADY CREECH. Oh, the lynching ruffian!

HORACE. Ethel, do you mean to let this fellow dictate to you?

ETHEL [breathlessly and loudly, as if resistance were hopeless].
But--he says I _must_!

[She sinks back into her chair.]

PIKE [to HAWCASTLE]. You're here for an answer, you say?

HAWCASTLE [on the defensive]. Yes!

PIKE. An answer to what?

HAWCASTLE [painfully resuming his suavity]. An answer to our request
that you accede to the wishes of that young lady.

PIKE. And if I don't, what are you going to do?

HORACE. Ethel, you _must_ go!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. This man is an Apache!

LADY CREECH [simultaneously]. Barbarian!

PIKE [to HAWCASTLE]. I'll leave it to you to tell her.

HAWCASTLE. A gentleman would spare her that.

PIKE. _I_ won't! Speak out! Why do you come here sure of the answer you
want?

HAWCASTLE [intensely annoyed]. Tut, tut!

LADY CREECH. Don't mumble your words!

PIKE. I'll make it even plainer than you like.

HORACE. I protest against this!

ALMERIC. Throw the rotter out of the window!

PIKE [particularly addressing ETHEL]. This afternoon I tried to help a
poor devil--a broken-down Russian running away from Siberia, where he'd
been for nine years.

[She rises; her eyes eagerly meet his.]

A poor weak thing, hounded like you've seen a rat in the gutter by dogs
and bootblacks. Some of your friends here saw us bring him into this
apartment; they know we've got him here now. If I don't agree to hand
over you and seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars of the money John
Simpson made, it means that the man I have tried to help goes back to
rot in Siberia and I go to an Italian jail for two years, or as much
longer as they can make it.

HAWCASTLE [violently]. Nonsense!

ETHEL [stepping toward PIKE, indignantly]. I knew that you had only a
further humiliation in store for me--

HAWCASTLE [following her and trying to interrupt]. But my dear--

ETHEL [with dignity]. No--you need make no denial for yourselves.

[To PIKE, haughtily.]

Do you think I would believe that an English noble would stoop--

PIKE [with passionate indignation]. Stoop! Why, ten years ago in St.
Petersburg there was a poor revolutionist who, in his crazy patriotism,
took government money for the cause he believed in. He made the mistake
of keeping that money in his house, when this man [pointing at
HAWCASTLE] knew it was there. He also made the mistake of having a wife
that this man coveted and stole--as he coveted and stole the money. Oh,
he made a good job of it! Don't think that to-night is the first time he
has given information to the police. He did it then, and the husband
went to Siberia--

HAWCASTLE [staggered and enraged]. A dastardly slander!

PIKE [in a ringing voice].--and he'll do it again to-night. I go to an
Italian jail [he suddenly swings his outstretched hand to point to
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, continuing without pause] and, by the living God,
that same poor devil of a husband goes back to Siberia!

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, with an ejaculation of horror and fright, staggers
back.]

HAWCASTLE [in extreme agitation]. It's a ghastly lie!

PIKE. You came for your answer. Here it is.

[Calls sharply.]

Ivanoff!

[IVANOFF appears in the doorway on the right. He advances, lifts both
clinched fists above MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY'S head.]

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, with a shuddering cry, falls on her knees in an
attitude of fright and abasement.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ivan!--oh, Mother of God!--Ivan! Don't kill me--

[IVANOFF shudders with weakness, trembles violently, collapses into
chair, she still at his feet. IVANOFF sobbing.]

HORACE [starting toward her in extreme agitation]. Helene!

PIKE [sternly to HORACE]. You keep back, she's his wife.

[Pointing to HAWCASTLE.]

And there stands his best friend!

HAWCASTLE. It's a lie! I never saw the man before in my life.

PIKE [grimly, with a gesture toward MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY]. The lady seems
to recognize him.

HAWCASTLE. Almeric, go for the police. Call them quickly!

[His voice loud and hoarse.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [springs to her feet, protesting]. No--no--I can't!

PIKE [with his hand on IVANOFF'S shoulder]. Call them in--we're ready.

[To ETHEL.]

But I want _you_ always to remember that I considered it cheap at the
price.

[ETHEL, in an agony of shame, turns from him. At same time MADAME DE
CHAMPIGNY, never taking her eyes from IVANOFF'S face, and showing great
fear, moves back near HAWCASTLE.]

ALMERIC [opening the upper doors and calling]. Tell that officer to
bring his men in here!

[VASILI enters briskly from the hall.]

[RIBIERE enters immediately after from the same direction.]

VASILI [in a loud, clear voice]. There will be no arrests to-night, my
friends.

HAWCASTLE [violently, to ALMERIC]. Do as I say! This man [meaning
VASILI] goes, too.

VASILI [curtly]. The officer is not there, the carabiniere have been
withdrawn.

[To PIKE, gravely and rapidly.]

For your sake I have relinquished my incognito.

[To HAWCASTLE.]

The man Ivanoff is in my custody.

[Illustration: "IVAN! DON'T KILL ME!"]

HAWCASTLE [violently]. By whose authority? Do you know that you are
speaking to the Earl of Hawcastle?

RIBIERE [in a ringing voice, advancing a step]. More respectful, sir!
You are addressing his Highness, the Grand-Duke Vasili of Russia.

[HAWCASTLE falls back, stricken.]

PIKE [thunderstruck]. Respectful! Think of what _I've_ been calling him!

VASILI. My friend, it has been refreshing. [To RIBIERE]. Ribiere, I
shall take Ivanoff's statement in writing. Bring him with you.

[VASILI turns on his heel, curtly, and passes rapidly out through the
door on the right.]

[RIBIERE touches IVANOFF on shoulder, indicating that he must follow
VASILI.]

[IVANOFF starts with RIBIERE; MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY shrinks back with a
low exclamation of fear.]

IVANOFF [hoarsely to her]. I would not touch you--not even to strangle
you!

[With outstretched hand, pointing to HAWCASTLE.]

But God will let me pay my debt to the Earl of Hawcastle!

[Goes rapidly out with RIBIERE.]

HAWCASTLE [choked with rage, advancing on PIKE]. Why, you--

PIKE [genially]. Oh! I hated to hand you this, my lord. I didn't come
over here to make the fine flower of Europe any more trouble than
they've got. But I had to _show_ John Simpson's daughter.

[Movement from HORACE and ETHEL.]

And I reckon now she isn't wanting any alliance with the remnants of
Crecy and Agincourt.

ETHEL [tremulously, coming close to PIKE]. But I have no choice--I gave
Almeric my promise when I thought it an honor to bear his name. Now that
you have shown me it is a _shame_ to bear it, the promise is only more
sacred. The shame is not _his_ fault. You--you--want me to
be--honorable--don't you?

PIKE [after a long stare at her, speaks in a feeble voice, very slowly].
Your father--and mother--_both_--came--from Missouri, didn't they?


END OF THE THIRD ACT




THE FOURTH ACT


SCENE: The same as in Act I. The morning of the next day. Upon the steps
leading to the hotel doors is a pile of bags, hat-boxes, and rugs.

As the curtain rises HAWCASTLE, in a travelling suit and cap, is
directing a porter who is adjusting a strap on a travelling bag. ALMERIC
enters from the hotel, smoking a cigarette.

ALMERIC. Ah, Governor; see you're moving!

HAWCASTLE. I may.

[His manner is nervous, apprehensive, and wary. Porter touches his cap
and goes into hotel.]

It depends.

ALMERIC. Depends? Madame de Champigny took the morning boat to Naples,
and your trunks are gone. Shouldn't say that looked much like dependin'.

HAWCASTLE [nervously]. It does, though, with that devilish convict--

ALMERIC. Oh, but I say, Governor, you're not in a funk about him! You
could bowl him over with a finger.

HAWCASTLE [glancing over his shoulder]. Not if he had what he didn't
have last night, or I shouldn't be here to-day.

ALMERIC. You don't think the beggar'd be taking a shot at you?

HAWCASTLE [fastening clasp of hat-box]. I don't know what the crazy fool
mightn't do.

ALMERIC. But, you know, he's really quite as much in custody as you
could wish. That Vasilivitch chap has got him fast enough.

[LADY CREECH enters from the hotel.]

HAWCASTLE [sharply]. The Grand-Duke Vasili has the reputation of being a
romantic fool. I don't know what moment he may decide to let Ivanoff
loose.

LADY CREECH [with triumphant indignation]. Then I have the advantage
over you, Hawcastle. He's just done it.

HAWCASTLE [startled]. What?

LADY CREECH [continuing]. Got him a pardon from Russia by telegraph.

HAWCASTLE. You don't mean that!

LADY CREECH. Ethel has just told me.

HAWCASTLE. My God!

[He springs forward and touches a bell on wall.]

LADY CREECH. An outrage! Our plans all so horribly upset--

HAWCASTLE [turning and coming down steps]. No, they're not.

[MARIANO appears in the doorway.]

HAWCASTLE. Mariano, I'm off for Naples. Sharp's the word!

MARIANO. It is too late for the boat, Milor'. You must drive to
Castellamare for the train.

HAWCASTLE. There's a carriage waiting for me at the gate yonder. Get
these things into it quick--quick!

[MARIANO beckons porters from the hotel. Porters enter sharply and carry
bags, etc., off.]

[Meanwhile, HAWCASTLE, without pause, continues rapidly and in an
excited voice to ALMERIC and LADY CREECH.]

You must see it through; you mustn't let the thing fail; what's more,
you've got to hurry it, just as if I were here. This girl gave her word
last night that she'd stick.

LADY CREECH. But she's behaving very peculiarly this morning.
Outrageously would be nearer it.

HAWCASTLE. How?

LADY CREECH. Shedding tears over this Ivanoff's story. What's more, she
has sent that dreadful Pike person to him with assistance.

HAWCASTLE. What sort of assistance?

LADY CREECH. Money. I don't know how much, but I'm sure it was a lot.

ALMERIC [with a sudden inspiration]. By Jove! Buying the beggar off,
perhaps, to keep him from making a scandal for us.

HAWCASTLE [excitedly]. That's what she's trying to do!

LADY CREECH. Then why do you go?

HAWCASTLE. Because I'm not sure she can. [Going to steps.] Wire me at
the Bertolini, Naples. [Turning at stoop.] This shows she means to
stick.

LADY CREECH. For the sake of her promise.

HAWCASTLE [emphatically]. Yes, and for the sake of the name.

[He runs out rapidly.]

[PIKE enters from the grove, smoking.]

PIKE [thoughtfully]. Your pa seems in a hurry.

[LADY CREECH and ALMERIC turn, startled. LADY CREECH haughtily sweeps
away, entering the hotel.]

ALMERIC [cheerfully]. Oh yes, possibly--he's off, you know--to catch a
train. He's so easily worried by trifles.

[PIKE looks at ALMERIC with a sort of chuckling admiration.]

PIKE. Well, you don't worry--not too easy; do you, son?

ALMERIC. Oh, one finds nothing in particular this morning to bother one.

PIKE [assenting]. Nothing at all.

ALMERIC. Not I. Of course, Miss Ethel is standing to her promise?

PIKE [grimly]. Yes, she is.

ALMERIC. The Governor only thought it best to clear out a bit until we
were certain that she manages to draw off this convict chap.

PIKE [puzzled]. Draw him off?

ALMERIC. What you Americans call "affixing him," isn't it?

PIKE. "Affixing him?" Don't try to talk United States, my son. Just tell
me in your own way.

ALMERIC. She's been giving him money, hasn't she? You took it to him
yourself, didn't you? Naturally, we understood what it was for. She's
trying to keep the beggar quiet.

PIKE. So that's what she sent this poor cuss the money for, was it?

ALMERIC. Why, what other reason could there be?

PIKE. Well, you know I sort of gathered it was because she was sorry for
him--thought he'd been wronged; but, of course, I'm stupid.

ALMERIC. Well, ra-_ther_! I don't know that it was so necessary for her
to hush him up, but it showed a very worthy intention in her, didn't it?

PIKE [slowly]. Would you mind my being present when you thank her for
it?

ALMERIC. Shouldn't in the least if I intended thanking her. It simply
shows she considers herself already one of us. It's perfectly
plain--why, it's plain as _you_ are!

[Chuckles.]

PIKE. Oh! if I could only get it over to Kokomo! And that's why you're
not worrying, is it, son?

ALMERIC. Worrying? My good man, do you mind excusing me. I saw a most
likely pup yesterday; I'm afraid some other chap'll snatch him up before
I do. I should have taken him at once. Good-morning!

[Exit through the grove with a sprightly gait and a wave of his stick.]

[PIKE gazes after him, shaking his head with a half-admiring,
half-sardonic chuckle.]

[Enter ETHEL from the hotel. She wears a pretty morning dress and hat;
her face is very sad.]

ETHEL. I hear that Lord Hawcastle has left the hotel.

PIKE [dryly]. Yes; I saw him go.

ETHEL. He left very quickly?

PIKE. He did seem to be forgetting the scenery.

ETHEL [decidedly]. He was afraid of Ivanoff.

PIKE. I shouldn't be surprised. Ivanoff wants to thank you. May I bring
him?

ETHEL. Yes.

[PIKE goes off into the grove.]

[MARIANO and a file of servants enter from the hotel, form a line, and
bow profoundly as VASILI enters. They withdraw at a sign from him.]

ETHEL [making a deep curtsy]. Monseigneur!

VASILI [to ETHEL]. Not _you_! You see, I must fly to some place where an
incognito will be respected. If I stay here it will be--what you
call--fuss and feathers and revolutionary agents. I have come to make
my adieu to your guardian. Incognito or out of it, he is my very good
friend--no matter if he is an egoist.

ETHEL. An egoist! That is the last thing in the world he should be
called.

VASILI. Ah, so; what do you call him?

ETHEL. I? I call him--

[She begins bravely, but at a keen glance from him stops abruptly,
blushing.]

VASILI. Bravo! I call him an egoist because he is so content to be what
he is he will not pretend to be something else! I respect your country
in him, my dear young lady; and he cares nothing whether I am a king or
a commoner. Everywhere the people bow and salaam half on their knees to
me; but _he_--

ETHEL. No, I can't quite imagine _him_ doing that.

[Enter PIKE from the grove, followed by IVANOFF.]

VASILI [to PIKE]. I have come to bid you goodbye, my friend. Life is a
service of farewells, they say; but if you ever come to St. Petersburg
when I am there you will be made welcome. Your ambassador will tell you
where to find me.

PIKE. I know I'd be welcome; and if you ever get out as far as Indiana,
don't miss Kokomo--the depot hackman will tell you where to find me, and
the boys will help me show you a good time. You'd like it, Doc--

[He stops, horrified at his slip of the tongue.]

VASILI. I _know_ that.

PIKE. I don't know how to call you by name, but I reckon you'll
understand I do think an awful lot of you.

VASILI [as they shake hands]. My friend, I have confided to you that you
are a great man. But a great man is sure to be set upon a pedestal by
some pretty lady. [ETHEL turns away.] It is a great responsibility to
occupy a pedestal. On that account I depart in some anxiety for you.

PIKE. What do you mean?

VASILI. Ah, you do not understand? Then, my friend--what is it you have
taught me to say?--ah, yes--then there is sand in your gear-box.

[VASILI gives his hand to IVANOFF quietly, bows deeply to ETHEL, and
goes quickly into the hotel.]

IVANOFF [turning to ETHEL]. Dear, kind young lady, your guardian has
known how to make me accept the help you granted. He has known how
because his heart is like yours, full of goodness. I shall go to London
and teach the languages. There I shall be able to repay you--at least
what you have given me in money.

ETHEL. Professor Ivanoff, are you following Lord Hawcastle and your
wife?

IVANOFF. My wife exists no longer for me.

ETHEL. But Lord Hawcastle? Do you mean to follow him?

IVANOFF [with great feeling]. No, no, no! I could not hurt his body--I
could not. The suffering of a man is here--here! What is it _he_ has of
most value in this world? It is that name of his. Except for that, he is
poor, and that I shall destroy. He shall not go in his clubs; he shall
not go among his own class, and in the streets they will point at him.
His story and mine shall be made--ah, but too well known! And that name
of which he and all his family have been so proud, it shall be disgrace
and dishonor to bear.

ETHEL [sadly]. Already it is that.

IVANOFF. But I forget myself. I talk so ugly.

ETHEL. It is not in my heart to blame you. Your wrongs have given you
the right.

IVANOFF [kissing her hand]. God bless you always!

[Illustration: "MY FRIEND, THERE IS SAND IN YOUR GEAR-BOX"]

[He takes PIKE'S hand, tries to speak, but chokes up and cannot. He
goes into the hotel.]

PIKE. There _are_ some good people over here, aren't there?

ETHEL. When you're home again I hope you will remember _them._

PIKE. I will.

ETHEL. And I hope you will forget everything I've ever said.

PIKE. Somehow it doesn't seem as if I very likely would.

ETHEL [coming toward him]. Oh yes, you will! All those unkind things
I've said to you--

PIKE. Oh, I'll forget _those_ easy!

ETHEL [going on eagerly, but almost tearfully]. And the other things,
too, when you're once more among your kind, good home folks you like so
well--and probably there's one among them that you'll be so glad to get
back to you'll hardly know you've been away--an unworldly girl--[she
falters]--one that doesn't need to be cured--oh! of all sorts of
follies--a kind girl, one who's been always sweet to you. [Turns away
from him.] I can see her--she wears a white muslin and waits by the gate
for you at twilight [turns to him again]--isn't she like that?

PIKE [shaking his head gravely]. No; not like that.

ETHEL. But there _is_ some one there?--some one that you've cared for?

PIKE [sadly]. Well, she's only been there in a way. I've had her picture
on my desk for a good while. Sometimes when I go home in the evening she
kind of seems to be there. I bought a homey old house up on Main Street,
you know; it's the house you were born in. It's kind of lonesome
sometimes, and then I get to thinking that she's there, sitting at an
old piano, that used to be my mother's, and singing to me--

ETHEL [smiling sorrowfully]. Singing "Sweet Genevieve"?

PIKE. Yes--that's my favorite. But then I come to and I find it ain't
so, no voice comes to me, and I find there ain't anybody but me
[swallows painfully], and it's so foolish that even Jim Cooley can write
me letters making fun of it!

ETHEL. You'll find her some day--you'll find some one to fulfil that
vision--and I shall think of you in your old house among the
beech-trees. I shall think of you often with her, listening to her voice
in the twilight. And I shall be far away from that sensible, kindly
life--keeping the promise that I have made [falters], and living out--my
destiny.

PIKE [gravely]. What destiny?

ETHEL. I am bound to Almeric in his misfortune, I am bound to him _by_
his misfortune.

[She goes on with a sorrowful eagerness.]

He has to bear a name that will be a by-word of disgrace, and it is my
duty to help him bear it, to help him make it honorable again; to
inspire him in the struggle that lies before him to rise above it by his
own efforts, to make a career for himself; to make the world forget the
disgrace of his father in his own triumphs--in the product of his own
work--

PIKE [aghast]. Work!

ETHEL. Oh, I am all American to-day. No matter how humbly he begins, it
will be a beginning, and no matter what it costs me I must be by his
side helping him, with all my energy and strength. Can you challenge
that? Isn't it true?

PIKE. I can't deny it--that's what any good and brave woman ought to
feel.

ETHEL. And since it has to be done, it must be done at once. I haven't
seen Almeric since last night; I must see him now.

PIKE [grimly]. He's not here just now.

[HORACE enters; stands in the doorway unobserved, listening.]

ETHEL. I've shirked facing him to-day. He has always been so light and
gay, I have dreaded to see him bending under this blow, shamed and
overcome. Now it is my duty to see him, to show him how he can hold up
his head in spite of it!

PIKE. I agree, it's your duty--

ETHEL [eagerly, but tremulously]. That means that you--as my
guardian--think I am right?

PIKE. I agree to it, I said.

ETHEL [excited]. Then that must mean that you consent--

PIKE. It does--I give my consent to your marriage.

ETHEL [shocked and frightened]. You _do_?

PIKE. I place it in your hands.

HORACE [vehemently interrupting]. I protest against this. She's talking
like a romantic schoolgirl. And I for one won't bear it--and I won't
allow it!

ETHEL. Too late--he's consented.

[With a half-choked, sudden sob she runs into the hotel.]

HORACE [turning furiously on PIKE]. I tell you I shall not permit her to
throw herself away!

PIKE. Look here, who's the guardian of this girl?

HORACE. A magnificent guardian you are! You came here to protect her
from something you thought rotten; now we all know it's rotten, you hand
her over!

[Turns with a short, bitter laugh, walks up stage, then comes back.]

By Jove! I shouldn't be surprised if you consent to the settlement, too!

PIKE [solemnly]. My son, I shouldn't be surprised if I did.

HORACE. Is the world topsy-turvy? Have I gone crazy?

[With accusing finger pointed at PIKE.]

I'll bet my _soul_ that'll disgust her as much as it does me!

PIKE. My son, I shouldn't be surprised if it would.

HORACE [staring at him]. By the Lord, but you play a queer game, Mr.
Pike!

PIKE. Oh, I'm jest crossing the Rubicon. Your father used to have a
saying: "If you're going to cross the Rubicon, cross it. Don't wade out
to the middle and _stand_ there; you only get hell from both banks."

[Enter LADY CREECH from the hotel.]

LADY CREECH [testily]. Mr. Granger-Simpson, have you seen my nephew?

HORACE. No; I've rather avoided that, if you don't mind my saying so.

LADY CREECH. Mr. Granger-Simpson!

HORACE. I'm sorry, Lady Creech, but I've had a most awful shaking-up,
and I'm almost thinking of going back home with Mr. Pike. I rather think
he's about right in his ideas. You know we abused him, not only for
himself, but for his vulgar friend; yet his vulgar friend turned out to
be a grand-duke--and look at what our friends turned out to be.

[Goes rapidly into the hotel.]

[ALMERIC'S voice is heard from the grove. "Come along! There's a good
fellow!"]

LADY CREECH. Isn't that Almeric?

PIKE. Here he comes, shamed and bending under the blow!

[ALMERIC enters from the grove, leading a bull terrier pup.]

ALMERIC. Mariano, Mariano--I say, Mariano! I say, Aunty, ain't he
rippin'? Lucky I got there just as I did--a bounder wanted to buy him
five minutes later.

[MARIANO enters from hotel.]

Mariano, do you think you could be trusted to wash him?

MARIANO. Wash him!

ALMERIC. Tepid water, you know; and mind he doesn't take cold; and just
a little milk afterward--nothing else but milk, you understand. You be
deuced careful, I mean to say.

MARIANO [with dignity]. I will give him to the porter.

[He carries the animal into the hotel.]

LADY CREECH. Almeric, really, there are more important things, you know.

ALMERIC. But you don't seem to realize I might have missed him
altogether. I think I'm rather to be congratulated, you know. What?

PIKE. I think you are, my son. I have given my consent.

ALMERIC. Rippin'!

LADY CREECH. And the settlement?

PIKE. The settlement also--everything!

[ETHEL enters from the hotel, followed by HORACE.]

LADY CREECH [greatly relieved and overjoyed, starting toward ETHEL].
Ethel, my dear!

ALMERIC [cheerfully]. I told you it would all be plain sailing, Aunty.
There was nothing to worry about.

LADY CREECH [continuing, to ETHEL]. All shall be forgiven, my child. I
am too pleased, too overjoyed in your good-fortune to remember any
little bickerings between us. The sky has cleared wonderfully.
Everything is settled.

ETHEL. Yes; it's all over; my guardian has consented.

ALMERIC. Of course _I_ never worried about it--but I fancy it will be a
weight off the Governor's mind. I'll see that a wire catches him at
Naples--and he'll be glad to know what became of that arrangement about
the convict fellow, too.

ETHEL [very seriously]. Almeric, I think it's noble to be brave in
trouble, but--

ALMERIC [puzzled]. I say, you know, you've really _got_ me!

ETHEL. I mean that I admire you for your pluck, for seeming unconcerned
under disgrace, but--

ALMERIC. _Disgrace_? Why, who's disgraced--not even the Governor, as I
see it. You got that chap called off, didn't you?

ETHEL. Whom do you mean?

ALMERIC. Why, that convict chap--didn't you send him away? You bought
him off, didn't you, so that he won't talk? Gave him money not to bother
us?

ETHEL [rising, and turning on him indignantly]. Why, Heaven pity you! Do
you think that?

ALMERIC. Oh--what?--he wouldn't agree to be still? Oh, I say, that'll
be rather a pill for the Governor--he'll be a bit worried, you know.

ETHEL. Don't you see that it's time for you to worry a little for
yourself? That you've got to begin at once to do something worthy that
will obliterate this shame--to begin a career--to work--to work!

ALMERIC [puzzled]. But? But I mean to say, though--but what _for_? What
possible need will there be for an extreme like that? Don't you see, in
the first place, there's the settlement--

ETHEL [aghast]. Settlement! You talk of settlement, _now_.

LADY CREECH [angrily]. Settlement, _certainly_ there's the settlement!

ETHEL. What for?

LADY CREECH. Why, don't you understand--you're to be the Countess of
Hawcastle, aren't you?

ALMERIC. Why--hasn't he told you?--the only obstacle on earth between us
was this fellow's consent to the settlement, and he's just given it.

ETHEL [dazed and angry]. Do you mean to say he's consented to that!

ALMERIC. Why, to be sure--he's just consented with his own lips--didn't
you?

PIKE [gravely]. I did.

LADY CREECH. Don't you see, don't you hear that--he's consented? He
didn't mumble his words--don't you hear him?

ETHEL. I do, and disbelieve my own ears. Yesterday, when I wanted
something I thought of value--and that was a name--he refused to let me
buy it--to-day, when I know that that name is less than nothing, worse
than nothing--he bids me give my fortune for it. What manner of man is
this! And _you_ [to LADY CREECH and ALMERIC], what are you that after
last night you come to me and ask a settlement?

LADY CREECH [angrily]. Certainly we do--would you expect to enter a
family like this and bring nothing?

ALMERIC. _I_ can't see that the situation has changed since yesterday. I
don't stick out for the precise amount the Governor said. If it ought to
be less on account of that little affair last night--why, we should be
the last people in the world to haggle over a few thousand pounds--

ETHEL [with a cry of rage and relief]. Oh! That is the final word of my
humiliation! I felt that you were in shame and dishonor, and, because of
that, I was ready to keep my word--to stand by you, to help you make
yourself into something like a man--to give my life to you. That you
permitted the sacrifice was enough! Now you ask me to PAY for the
privilege of making it, I am released! I am free! _I am not that man's
property to give away!_

LADY CREECH [violently]. You're beside yourself. Isn't this what we've
been wanting all the time?

ALMERIC. But slow up a bit--didn't you say you'd stick?

ETHEL. Any promise I ever made to you is a thousand times cancelled.
This is final!

[With concentrated rage, turning to PIKE.]

And as for you--never presume to speak to me again!

ALMERIC [to LADY CREECH]. Most extraordinary girl--she's rather
dreadful, _isn't_ she?

LADY CREECH [with agitation]. Give me your arm, Almeric.

[They go into the hotel.]

ETHEL [to PIKE]. What have you to say to me?

[PIKE raises his hands slowly, with palms outward, and drops them.]

ETHEL. What explanation have you to make?

PIKE. None.

ETHEL. That's because you don't care what I think of you. [Bitterly.]
Indeed, you've already shown that, when you were willing to give me up
to those people, and to let me pay them for taking me! You let me
romanticize to you about honor and duty and sympathy--about my efforts
to make that creature a man--and you pretended to sympathize with me,
and you knew all the time it was only the money they were after!

PIKE [humbly]. Well, I shouldn't be surprised.

ETHEL. Didn't you have the faint little understanding of me enough to
see that their asking for money, now--would horrify me? Didn't you know
that your consenting to it, leaving me free to give it to them, would
release me--make me free to deny everything to them?

PIKE [slowly]. Well, I shouldn't be surprised if I _had_ seen that.

ETHEL [staggered]. You mean you've been saving me again from myself,
from my silliness, from my romanticism, that you've given me another
revelation of the falsity, the unreality of my attitude toward these
people, and toward life.

PIKE [placatingly]. No, no!

ETHEL [vehemently]. You'd always say that, you'd always deny it--it's
like you. You let me make a fool of myself and then you show it to me,
and after that you deny it! [Angrily.] You're always exhibiting your
superiority! Would you do that to the dream girl you told me of, to the
girl at home who plays dream songs for you in the empty house among the
beeches? Do you think _any_ girl could love a man for that? Go back to
your dream girl, your lady of the picture!

PIKE [disconsolately]. She won't be there.

ETHEL [stubbornly]. She _might_ be.

PIKE. No, there ain't any chance of that. The house will still be empty.

ETHEL [almost crying]. Are you _sure_?

PIKE [sadly]. There ain't any doubt of it now.

ETHEL. You might be wrong--for once!

[She gives him a look between tears and laughter, then runs into the
hotel.]

[PIKE stands sadly, his head bent, every line of his body expressing
dejection; then from within the hotel come the sounds of a piano in the
preliminary chords of "Sweet Genevieve." ETHEL'S voice is lifted in the
song, at first faint, somewhat tremulous and quavering, then rising
strongly and confidently. PIKE'S face, slowly upraised, becomes
transfigured. He crosses the stage spellbound, to the hotel door with
the look of a man in a dream. He falls back a step, looking in.]



***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN FROM HOME***


******* This file should be named 15855.txt or 15855.zip *******


This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/5/15855



Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.net/license).


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.net/fundraising/pglaf.


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://www.gutenberg.net/about/contact

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director
     gbnewby@pglaf.org

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.net/fundraising/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations.  To donate, please visit:
http://www.gutenberg.net/fundraising/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

     http://www.gutenberg.net

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.


Colophon

This file was acquired from Project Gutenberg, and it is in the public domain. It is re-distributed here as a part of the Alex Catalogue of Electronic Texts (http://infomotions.com/alex/) by Eric Lease Morgan (Infomotions, Inc.) for the purpose of freely sharing, distributing, and making available works of great literature. Its Infomotions unique identifier is etext15855, and it should be available from the following URL:

http://infomotions.com/etexts/id/etext15855



Infomotions, Inc.

Infomotions Man says, "Give back to the 'Net."