Behind the Beyond | Page 5

used in every problem play is just called An Apartment. It is not called Mr. Harding's Apartment, or an Apartment for which Mr. Harding pays the Rent. Not a bit. It is just an Apartment. Even if it were "A Apartment" it would feel easier. But "An Apartment"!! The very words give the audience a delicious shiver of uncomfortableness.
When the curtain rises it discloses a French maid moving about the stage in four-dollar silk stockings. She is setting things on a little table, evidently for supper. She explains this in French as she does it, so as to make it clear.
[Illustration: Their expression is stamped with deep thought.]
"Bon! la serviette de monsieur! bon! la serviette de madame, bien--du champagne, bon! langouste aux champignons, bien, bon.--" This is all the French she knows, poor little thing, but langouste aux champignons beats the audience, so she is all right.
Anyway, this supper scene has to come in. It is symbolical. You can't really show Amalfi and Fiesole and the orange trees, so this kind of supper takes their place.
As the maid moves about there is a loud knock at the cardboard door of the apartment. A man in official clothes sticks his head in. He is evidently a postal special messenger because he is all in postal attire with a postal glazed hat.
"Monsieur Arrding?" he says.
"Oui."
"Bon! Une lettre."
"Merci, monsieur." He goes out. The audience feel a thrill of pride at having learned French and being able to follow the intense realism of this dialogue. The maid lays the letter on the supper table.
Just as she does it the door opens and there enter Mr. Harding and Lady Cicely. Yes, them. Both of them. The audience catches it like a flash. They live here.
Lady Cicely throws aside her cloak. There is great gaiety in her manner. Her face is paler. There is a bright spot in each cheek. Her eyes are very bright.
* * * * *
There follows the well-known supper scene. Lady Cicely is very gay. She pours champagne into Mr. Harding's glass. They both drink from it. She asks him if he is a happy boy now. He says he is. She runs her fingers through his hair. He kisses her on the bare shoulder. This is also symbolic.
Lady Cicely rattles on about Amalfi and Fiesole. She asks Mr. Harding if he remembers that night in the olive trees at Santa Clara, with just one thrush singing in the night sky. He says he does. He remembers the very thrush. You can see from the talk that they have been all over Baedeker's guide to the Adriatic.
At times Lady Cicely's animation breaks. She falls into a fit of coughing and presses her hand to her side. Mr. Harding looks at her apprehensively. She says, "It is nothing, silly boy, it will be gone in a moment." It is only because she is so happy.
[Illustration: He kisses her on the bare shoulder.]
Then, quite suddenly, she breaks down and falls at Mr. Harding's knees.
"Oh, Jack, Jack, I can't stand it! I can't stand it any longer. It is choking me!"
"My darling, what is it?"
"This, all this, it is choking me--this apartment, these pictures, the French maid, all of it. I can't stand it. I'm being suffocated. Oh, Jack, take me away--take me somewhere where it is quiet, take me to Norway to the great solemn hills and the fjords----"
* * * * *
Then suddenly Mr. Harding sees the letter in its light blue envelope lying on the supper table. It has been lying right beside him for ten minutes. Everybody in the theater could see it and was getting uncomfortable about it. He clutches it and tears it open. There is a hunted look in his face as he reads.
"What is it?"
"My mother--good God, she is coming. She is at the Bristol and is coming here. What can I do?"
Lady Cicely is quiet now.
"Does she know?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"How did she find you?"
"I don't know. I can't imagine. I knew when I saw in the papers that my father was dead that she would come home. But I kept back the address. I told the solicitors, curse them, to keep it secret."
Mr. Harding paces the stage giving an imitation of a weak man trapped. He keeps muttering, "What can I do?"
Lady Cicely speaks very firmly and proudly. "Jack."
"What?"
"There is only one thing to do. Tell her."
Mr. Harding, aghast, "Tell her?"
"Yes, tell her about our love, about everything. I am not ashamed. Let her judge me."
Mr. Harding sinks into a chair. He keeps shivering and saying, "I tell you, I can't; I can't. She wouldn't understand." The letter is fluttering in his hand. His face is contemptible. He does it splendidly. Lady Cicely picks the letter from his hand. She reads it aloud, her eyes widening as