The Man from Home | Page 6

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].