If
by Lord Dunsany (Edward John Plunkett)
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman

If

by Lord Dunsany [Edward John Plunkett]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

JOHN BEAL
MARY BEAL
LIZA
ALI
BERT, BILL: two railway porters
THE MAN IN THE CORNER
MIRALDA CLEMENT
HAFIZ EL ALCOLAHN
DAOUD
ARCHIE BEAL
BAZZALOL, THOOTHOOBABA: two Nubian door-keepers
BEN HUSSEIN, Lord of the Pass
ZABNOOL, SHABEESH: two conjurers
OMAR, a singer
ZAGBOOLA, mother of Hafiz
THE SHEIK OF THE BISHAREENS

Notables, soldiers, Bishareens, dancers, etc.

IF

ACT I

SCENE I

A small railway station near London.
Time: Ten years ago.

BERT

'Ow goes it, Bill?

BILL

Goes it? 'Ow d'yer think it goes?

BERT

I don't know, Bill. 'Ow is it?

BILL

Bloody.

BERT

Why? What's wrong?

BILL

Wrong? Nothing ain't wrong.

BERT

What's up then?

BILL

Nothing ain't right.

BERT

Why, wot's the worry?

BILL

Wot's the worry? They don't give you
better wages nor a dog, and then they thinks
they can talk at yer and talk at yer, and say
wot they likes, like.

BERT

Why? You been on the carpet, Bill?

BILL

Ain't I! Proper.

BERT

Why, wot about, Bill?

BILL

Wot about? I'll tell yer. Just coz I let
a lidy get into a train. That's wot about.
Said I ought to 'av stopped 'er. Thought the
train was moving. Thought it was dangerous.
Thought I tried to murder 'er, I suppose.

BERT

Wot? The other day?

BILL

Yes.

BERT

Tuesday?

BILL

Yes.

BERT

Why. The one that dropped her bag?

BILL

Yes. Drops 'er bag. Writes to the com-
pany. They writes back she shouldn't 'av
got in. She writes back she should. Then
they gets on to me. Any more of it and
I'll...

BERT

I wouldn't, Bill; don't you.

BILL

I will.

BERT

Don't you, Bill. You've got your family
to consider.

BILL

Well, anyway, I won't let any more of
them passengers go jumping into trains any
more, not when they're moving, I won't.
When the train gets in, doors shut. That's
the rule. And they'll 'ave to abide by it.

BERT

Well, I wouldn't stop one, not if...

BILL

I don't care. They ain't going to 'ave me
on the mat again and talk all that stuff to
me. No, if someone 'as to suffer . . .
'Ere she is.

[Noise of approaching train heard.]

BERT

Ay, that's her.

BILL

And shut goes the door.

[Enter JOHN BEAL.]

BERT

Wait a moment, Bill.

BILL

Not if he's . . . Not if he was ever so.

JOHN [preparing to pass]

Good morning. . . .

BILL

Can't come through. Too late.

JOHN

Too late? Why, the train's only just in.

BILL

Don't care. It's the rule.

JOHN

0, nonsense. [He carries on.]

BILL

It's too late. I tell you you can't come.

JOHN

But that's absurd. I want to catch my
train.

BILL

It's too late.

BERT

Let him go, Bill.

BILL

I'm blowed if I let him go.

JOHN

I want to catch my train.

[JOHN is stopped by BILL and pushed
back by the face. JOHN advances towards
BILL looking like fighting. The train has
gone.]

BILL

Only doing my duty.

[JOHN stops and reflects at this, deciding
it isn't good enough. He shrugs his
shoulders, turns round and goes away.]

JOHN

I shouldn't be surprised if I didn't get even
with you one of these days, you . . . . . and
some way you won't expect.

Curtain

SCENE 2
   
Yesterday evening.

[Curtain rises on JOHN and MARY in
their suburban home.]

JOHN

I say, dear. Don't you think we ought to
plant an acacia?

MARY

An acacia, what's that, John?

JOHN

O, it's one of those trees that they have.

MARY

But why, John?

JOHN

Well, you see the house is called The Aca-
cias, and it seems rather silly not to have at
least one.

MARY

O, I don't think that matters. Lots of
places are called lots of things. Everyone
does.

JOHN
Yes, but it might help the postman.

MARY

O, no, it wouldn't, dear. He wouldn't
know an acacia if he saw it any more than I
should.

JOHN

Quite right, Mary, you're always right.
What a clever head you've got!

MARY

Have I, John? We'll plant an acacia if
you like. 1'11 ask about it at the grocer's.

JOHN
   
You can't get one there.

MARY

No, but he's sure to know where it can be
got.

JOHN

Where do they grow, Mary?

MARY

I don't know, John; but I am sure they do,
somewhere.

JOHN

Somehow I wish sometimes, I almost wish
I could have gone abroad for a week or so to
places like where acacias grow naturally.

MARY

0, would you really, John?

JOHN

No, not really. But I just think of it
sometimes.

MARY

Where would you have gone?

JOHN

0, I don't know. The East or some such
place. I've often heard people speak of it,
and somehow it seemed so. . .

MARY

The East, John? Not the East. I don't
think the East somehow is quite respectable.

JOHN

O well, it's all right, I never went, and
never shall go now. It doesn't matter.

MARY [the photographs catching her eye]

O, John, I meant to tell you. Such a dread-
ful thing happened.

JOHN

What, Mary?

MARY

Well, Liza was dusting the photographs,
and when she came to Jane's she says she
hadn't really begun to dust it, only looked at
it, and it fell down, and that bit of glass is
broken right out of it.

JOHN

Ask her not to look at it so hard another
time.

MARY

0, what do you mean, John?

JOHN

Well, that's how she broke it; she said so,
and as I know you believe in Liza . . .

MARY

Well, I can't think she'd tell a lie, John.

JOHN

No, of course not. But she mustn't look
so hard another time.

MARY

And it's poor little Jane's photograph.
She will feel it so.

JOHN

0, that's all right, we'll get it mended.

MARY

Still, it's a dreadful thing to have happened.

JOHN

We'll get it mended, and if Jane is unhappy
about it she can have Alice's frame. Alice
is too young to notice it.

MARY

She isn't, John. She'd notice it quick.

Well, George, then.

JOHN

MARY [looking at photo thoughtfully]

Well, perhaps George might give up his
frame.

JOHN

Yes, tell Liza to change it. Why not make
her do it now?

MARY

Not to-day, John. Not on a Sunday.
She shall do it to-morrow by the time you get
back from the office.

JOHN

All right. It might have been worse.

MARY

It's bad enough. I wish it hadn't happened.

JOHN

It might have been worse. It might have
been Aunt Martha.

MARY

I'd sooner it had been her than poor little
Jane.

JOHN

If it had been Aunt Martha's photograph
she'd have walked in next day and seen it for
certain; I know Aunt Martha. Then there'd
have been trouble.

MARY

But, John, how could she have known?

JOHN

I don't know, but she would have; it's a
kind of devilish sense she has.

MARY

John!

JOHN

What's the matter?

MARY

John! What a dreadful word you used.
And on a Sunday too! Really!

JOHN

0, I'm sorry. It slipped out somehow.
I'm very sorry.

[Enter LIZA.]

LIZA

There's a gentleman to see you, sir, which
isn't, properly speaking, a gentleman at all.
Not what I should call one, that is, like.

MARY

Not a gentleman! Good gracious, Liza!
Whatever do you mean?

LIZA

He's black.

MARY

Black?

JOHN [reassuring]

O . . . yes, that would be Ali. A queer
old customer, Mary; perfectly harmless. Our
firm gets hundreds of carpets through him;
and then one day . . .

MARY

But what is he doing here, John?

JOHN

Well, one day he turned up in London;
broke, he said; and wanted the firm to give
him a little cash. Well, old Briggs was for
giving him ten shillings. But I said "here's
a man that's helped us in making thousands
of pounds. Let's give him fifty."

MARY

Fifty pounds!

JOHN

Yes, it seems a lot; but it seemed only fair.
Ten shillings would have been an insult to
the old fellow, and he'd have taken it as such.
You don't know what he'd have done.

MARY

Well, he doesn't want more?

TOHN

No, I expect he's come to thank me. He
seemed pretty keen on getting some cash.
Badly broke, you see. Don't know what he was
doing in London. Never can tell with these
fellows. East is East, and there's an end of it.

MARY

How did he trace you here?

JOHN

0, got the address at the office. Briggs
and Cater won't let theirs be known. Not
got such a smart little house, I expect.

MARY

I don't like letting people in that you don't
know where they come from.

JOHN

0, he comes from the East.

MARY

Yes, I--I know. But the East doesn't seem
quite to count, somehow, as the proper sort of
place to come from, does it, dear?

JOHN

No.

MARY

It's not like Sydenham or Bromley, some
place you can put your finger on.

JOHN

Perhaps just for once, I don't think there's
any harm in him.

MARY

Well, just for once. But we can't make a
practice of it. And you don't want to be
thinking of business on a Sunday, your only
day off.

JOHN

0, it isn't business, you know. He only
wants to say thank you.

MARY

I hope he won't say it in some queer
Eastern way. You don't know what these
people. . . .

JOHN

0, no. Show him up, Liza.

LIZA

As you like, mum.
[Exit.]

MARY

And you gave him fifty pounds?

JOHN

Well, old Briggs agreed to it. So I suppose
that's what he got. Cater paid him.

MARY

It seems a lot of money. But I think, as
the man is actually coming up the stairs,
I'm glad he's got something to be grateful
for.

[Enter ALI, shown in by LIZA.]

ALI

Protector of the Just.

JOHN

0, er--yes. Good evening.

ALI

My soul was parched and you bathed it
in rivers of gold.

JOHN

O, ah, yes.

ALI

Wherefore the name Briggs, Cater, and Beal
shall be magnified and called blessed.

JOHN

Ha, yes. Very good of you.

ALI [advancing, handing trinket]

Protector of the Just, my offering.

JOHN

Your offering?

ALI

Hush. It is beyond price. I am not
bidden to sell it. I was in my extremity, but
I was not bidden to sell it. It is a token of
gratitude, a gift, as it came to me.

JOHN

AS it came to you?

ALI

Yes, it was given me.

JOHN

I see. Then you had given somebody what
you call rivers of gold?

ALI

Not gold; it was in Sahara.

JOHN

0, and what do you give in the Sahara
instead of gold?

ALI

Water.

JOHN

I see. You got it for a glass of water, like.

ALI

Even so.

JOHN

And--and what happened?

MARY

I wouldn't take his only crystal, dear.
It's a nice little thing, but [to ALI], but you
think a lot of it, don't you?

ALI

Even so.

JOHN

But look here, what does it do?

ALI  

Much.

JOHN

Well, what?

ALI

He that taketh this crystal, so, in his hand,
at night, and wishes, saying "At a certain
hour let it be"; the hour comes and he will
go back eight, ten, even twelve years if he
will, into the past, and do a thing again, or
act otherwise than he did. The day passes;
the ten years are accomplished once again; he
is here once more; but he is what he might
have become had he done that one thing
otherwise.

MARY

John!

JOHN

I--I don't understand.

ALI

To-night you wish. All to-morrow you
live the last ten years; a new way, master, a
new way, how you please. To-morrow night
you are here, what those years have made you.

JOHN

By Jove!

MARY

Have nothing to do with it, John.

JOHN

All right, Mary, I'm not going to. But,
do you mean one could go back ten years?

ALI

Even so.

JOHN

Well, it seems odd, but I'll take your word
for it. But look here, you can't live ten years
in a day, you know.

ALI

My master has power over time.

MARY

John, don't have anything to do with him.

JOHN

All right, Mary. But who is your master?

ALI

He is carved of one piece of jade, a god in
the greenest mountains. The years are his
dreams. This crystal is his treasure. Guard
it safely, for his power is in this more than
in all the peaks of his native hills. See what
I give you, master.

JOHN

Well, really, it's very good of you.

MARY

Good night, Mr. Ali. We are very much
obliged for your kind offer, which we are so
sorry we can't avail ourselves of.

JOHN
  
One moment, Mary. Do you mean that
I can go back ten years, and live till--till now
again, and only be away a day?

ALI

Start early and you will be here before
midnight.

JOHN

Would eight o'clock do!

ALI

You could be back by eleven that evening.

JOHN

I don't quite see how ten years could go
in a single day.

ALI

They will go as dreams go.
|
JOHN

Even so, it seems rather unusual, doesn't
it?

ALI

Time is the slave of my master

MARY

John!

JOHN

All right, Mary. [In a lower voice.] I'm
only trying to see what he'll say.

MARY

All right, John, only . . .

ALI

Is there no step that you would wish un-
trodden, nor stride that you would make
where once you faltered?

JOHN

I say, why don't you use it yourself?

ALI

I? I am afraid of the past. But you
Engleesh, and the great firm of Briggs, Cater,
and Beal; you are afraid of nothing.

JOHN

Ha, ha. Well--I wouldn't go quite as far
as that, but--well, give me the crystal.

MARY

Don't take it, John! Don't take it.

JOHN

Why, Mary? It won't hurt me.

MARY
If it can do all that--if it can do all that . . .

JOHN

Well?

MARY

Why, you might never have met me.

JOHN

Never have met you? I never thought of
that.

MARY

Leave the past alone, John.

JOHN

All right, Mary. I needn't use it. But I
want to hear about it, it's so odd, it's so
what-you-might-call queer; I don't think I
ever----- [To ALI.] You mean if I work
hard for ten years, which will only be all
to-morrow, I may be Governor of the Bank
of England to-morrow night.

ALI

Even so.

MARY

0, don't do it, John.

JOHN

But you said--I'll be back here before
midnight to-morrow.

ALI

It is so.

JOHN

But the Governor of the Bank of England
would live in the City, and he'd have a much
bigger house anyway. He wouldn't live in
Lewisham.

ALI

The crystal will bring you to this house
when the hour is accomplished, even to-
morrow night. If you be the great banker
you will perhaps come to chastise one of your
slaves who will dwell in this house. If you
be head of Briggs and Cater you will come to
give an edict to one of your firm. Perchance
this street will be yours and you will come to
show your power unto it. But you will come.

JOHN

And if the house is not mine?

MARY

John! John! Don't.

ALI

Still you will come.

JOHN

Shall I remember?

ALI

No.

JOHN

If I want to do anything different to what
I did, how shall I remember when I get back
there?

MARY

Don't. Don't do anything different, John.

JOHN

All right.

ALI

Choose just before the hour of the step
you desire to change. Memory lingers a little
at first, and fades away slowly.

JOHN

Five minutes?

ALI

Even ten.

JOHN

Then I can change one thing. After that I
forget.

ALI

Even so. One thing. And the rest follows.

JOHN

Well, it's very good of you to make me this
nice present, I'm sure.

ALI

Sell it not. Give it, as I gave it, if the heart
impels. So shall it come back one day to the
hills that are brighter than grass, made richer
by the gratitude of many men. And my
master shall smile thereat and the vale shall
be glad.

JOHN

It's very good of you, I'm sure.

MARY

I don't like it, John. I don't like tampering
with what's gone.

ALI

My master's power is in your hands.
Farewell.

[Exit.]

JOHN

I say, he's gone.

MARY

O, he's a dreadful man.

JOHN

I never really meant to take it.

MARY

0, John, I wish you hadn't

JOHN

Why? I'm not going to use it.

MARY

Not going to use it, John?

JOHN

No, no. Not if you don't want me to.

MARY

O, I'm so glad.

JOHN

And besides, I don't want things different.
I've got fond of this little house. And Briggs
is a good old sort, you know. Cater's a bit
of an ass, but there's no harm in him. In
fact, I'm contented, Mary. I wouldn't even
change Aunt Martha now.

[Points at frowning framed photograph
centrally hung.]

You remember when she first came and
you said "Where shall we hang her?" I said
the cellar. You said we couldn't. So she had
to go there. But I wouldn't change her now.
I suppose there are old watch-dogs like her in
every family. I wouldn't change anything.

MARY

0, John, wouldn't you really?

JOHN

No, I'm contented. Grim old soul, I
wouldn't even change Aunt Martha.

MARY

I'm glad of that, John. I was frightened.
I couldn't bear to tamper with the past.
You don't know what it is, it's what's gone.
But if it really isn't gone at all, if it can be dug
up like that, why you don't know what
mightn't happen! I don't mind the future,
but if the past can come back like that....
O, don't, don't, John. Don't think of it.
It isn't canny. There's the children, John.

JOHN

Yes, yes, that's all right. It's only a little
ornament. I won't use it. And I tell you
I'm content. [Happily] It's no use to me.

MARY

I'm so glad you're content, John. Are you
really? Is there nothing that you'd have had
different? I sometimes thought you'd rather
that Jane had been a boy.

JOHN

Not a bit of it. Well, I may have at the
time, but Arthur's good enough for me.

MARY

I'm so glad. And there's nothing you ever
regret at all?

JOHN

Nothing. And you? Is there nothing you
regret, Mary?

MARY

Me? Oh, no. I still think that sofa would
have been better green, but you would have
it red.

JOHN

Yes, so I would. No, there's nothing I
regret.

MARY

I don't suppose there's many men can say
that.

JOHN

No, I don't suppose they can. They're
not all married to you. I don't suppose
many of them can.

[MARY smiles.]

MARY

I should think that very few could say
that they regretted nothing . . . very few
in the whole world.

JOHN

Well, I won't say nothing.

MARY

What is it you regret, John?

JOHN

Well, there is one thing.

MARY

And what is that?

JOHN

One thing has rankled a bit.

MARY

Yes, John?

JOHN

O, it's nothing, it's nothing worth mention-
ing. But it rankled for years.

What was it, John?

MARY

JOHN

O, it seems silly to mention it. It was
nothing.

MARY
   
But what?

JOHN

O, well, if you want to know, it was once
when I missed a train. I don't mind missing
a train, but it was the way the porter pushed
me out of the way. He pushed me by the
face. I couldn't hit back, because, well, you
know what lawyers make of it; I might have
been ruined. So it just rankled. It was years
ago before we married.

MARY
Pushed you by the face. Good gracious!

JOHN

Yes, I'd like to have caught that train in
spite of him. I sometimes think of it still.
Silly of me, isn't it?

MARY

What a brute of a man.

JOHN

0, I suppose he was doing his silly duty.
But it rankled.

MARY

He'd no right to do any such thing! He'd
no right to touch you!

JOHN

0, well, never mind.

MARY

I should like to have been there. . .
I'd have . . .

JOHN

0, well, it can't be helped now; but I'd
like to have caught it in sp . . .
[An idea seizes him.]

MARY

What is it?

JOHN

Can't be helped, I said. It's the very thing
that can be helped.

MARY

Can be helped, John? Whatever do you
mean?

JOHN

I mean he'd no right to stop me catching
that train. I've got the crystal, and I'll
catch it yet!

MARY

0, John, that's what you said you wouldn't
do.

JOHN

No. I said I'd do nothing to alter the past.
And I won't. I'm too content, Mary. But
this can't alter it. This is nothing.

MARY

What were you going to catch the train
for, John?

JOHN

For London. I wasn't at the office then.
It was a business appointment. There was a
man who had promised to get me a job, and
I was going up to . . .

MARY

John, it may alter your whole life!

JOHN

Now do listen, Mary, do listen. He never
turned up. I got a letter from him apologis-
ing to me before I posted mine to him. It
turned out he never meant to help me, mere
meaningless affabilities. He never came to
London that day at all. I should have taken
the next train back. That can't affect the
future.

MARY

N-no, John. Still, I don't like it.

JOHN

What difference could it make?

MARY

N-n-no.

JOHN

Think how we met. We met at ARCHIE's
wedding. I take it one has to go to one's
brother's wedding. It would take a pretty
big change to alter that. And. you were her
bridesmaid. We were bound to meet. And
having once met, well, there you are. If we'd
met by chance, in a train, or anything like
that, well, then I admit some little change
might alter it. But when wee met at ARCHIE's
wedding and you were her bridesmaid, why,
Mary, it's a cert. Besides, I believe in pre-
destination. It was our fate; we couldn't
have missed it.

MARY
No, I suppose not; still . .

JOHN

Well, what?

MARY

I don't like it.

JOHN

0, Mary, I have so longed to catch that
infernal train. Just think of it, annoyed on
and off for ten years by the eight-fifteen.

MARY

I'd rather you didn't, John.

JOHN

But why?

MARY

O, John, suppose there's a railway acci-
dent? You might be killed, and we should
never meet.

JOHN

There wasn't.

MARY
There wasn't, John? What do you mean?

JOHN

There wasn't an accident to the eight-fif-
teen. It got safely to London just ten years ago.

MARY

Why, nor there was.

JOHN

You see how groundless your fears are.
I shall catch that train, and all the rest will
happen the same as before. Just think
Mary, all those old days again. I wish I
could take you with me. But you soon will
be. But just think of the old days coming
back again. Hampton Court again and Kew,
and Richmond Park again with all the May.
And that bun you bought, and the corked
ginger-beer, and those birds singing and the
'bus past Isleworth. O, Mary, you wouldn't
grudge me that?

MARY

Well, well then all right, John.

JOHN

And you will remember there wasn't an
accident, won't you?

MARY [resignedly, sadly]

O, yes, John. And you won't try to get
rich or do anything silly, will you?

JOHN

No, Mary. I only want to catch that
train. I'm content with the rest. The same
things must happen, and they must lead me
the same way, to you, Mary. Good night,
now, dear.

MARY

Good night?

JOHN

I shall stay here on the sofa holding the
crystal and thinking. Then I'll have a bis-
cuit and start at seven.

MARY

Thinking, John? What about?

JOHN

Getting it clear in my mind what I want
to do. That one thing and the rest the same.
There must be no mistakes.

MARY [sadly]

Good night, John.

JOHN

Have supper ready at eleven.

MARY

Very well, John.
[Exit.]

JOHN [on the sofa, after a moment or two]

I'll catch that infernal train in spite of him.

[He takes the crystal and closes it up in
the palm of his left hand.]

I wish to go back ten years, two weeks and
a day, at, at--8.IO a.m. to-morrow; 8.IO a.m.
to-morrow, 8.IO.

[Re-enter MARY in doorway.]

MARY

John! John! You are sure he did get
his fifty pounds?

JOHN

Yes. Didn't he come to thank me for the
money?

MARY

You are sure it wasn't ten shillings?

JOHN

Cater paid him, I didn't.

MARY

Are you sure that Cater didn't give him
ten shillings?

JOHN

It's the sort of silly thing Cater would have
done!

MARY

O, John!

JOHN

Hmm.

Curtain

  

SCENE 3

Scene: As in Act I, Scene I.
Time. Ten years ago.

BERT

'Ow goes it, Bill?

BILL

Goes it? 'Ow d'yer think it goes?

BERT

I don't know, Bill. 'Ow is it?

BILL

Bloody.

BERT

Why, what's wrong?

BILL

Wrong? Nothing ain't wrong.

BERT

What's up, then?

BILL

Nothing ain't right.

BERT

Why, wot's the worry?

BILL

Wot's the worry? They don't give you
better wages nor a dog, and then they thinks
they can talk at yer and talk at yer, and say
wot they likes, like.

BERT

Why? You been on the carpet, Bill?

BILL

Ain't I ! Proper.

BERT

Why? Wot about, Bill?

BILL

Wot about? I'll tell yer. Just coz I let
a lidy get into a train. That's wot about.
Said I ought to 'av stopped 'er. Thought the
train was moving. Thought it was danger-
ous. Thought I tried to murder 'er, I suppose.

BERT

Wot? The other day?

BILL

Yes.

BERT?

Tuesday?

BILL

Yes.

BERT

Why? The one that dropped her bag?

BILL

Yes. Drops 'er bag. Writes to the com-
pany. They writes back she shouldn't 'av
got in. She writes back she should. Then
they gets on to me. Any more of it and I'll. . .

BERT

I wouldn't, Bill; don't you.

BILL

I will.

BERT

Don't you, Bill. You've got your family
to consider.

BILL

Well, anyway, I won't let any more of
them passengers go jumping into trains any
more, not when they're moving, I won't.
When the train gets in, doors shut. That's
the rule, and they'll have to abide by it.

[Enter JOHN BEAL.]

BILL [touching his hat]
Good morning, sir.

[JOHN does not answer, but walks to the
door between them.]

Carry your bag, sir?

JOHN
   
Go to hell!

[Exit through door.]

BILL

Ullo.

BERT

Somebody's been getting at 'im.

BILL

Well, I never did. Why, I knows the young
feller.

BERT

Pleasant spoken, ain't 'e, as a rule?

BILL

Never knew 'im like this.

BERT

You ain't bin sayin' nothing to 'im, 'ave
yer?

BILL

Never in my life.

BERT

Well, I never.

BILL

'Ad some trouble o' some kind.

BERT

Must 'ave.

[Train is heard.]

BILL

Ah, 'ere she is. Well, as I was saying . . .

Curtain

SCENE 4

In a second-class railway carriage.

Time: Same morning as Scene I, Act I.

Noise, and a scene drawn past the
windows. The scene, showing a momen-
tary glimpse of fair English hills, is al-
most entirely placards, "GIVE HER
BOVRIL," "GIVE HER OXO," alter-
nately, for ever.

Occupants, JOHN BEAL, a girl, a man.

All sit in stoical silence like the two
images near Luxor. The man has the
window seat, and therefore the right of
control over the window.

MIRALDA CLEMENT

Would you mind having the window open?

THE MAN IN THE CORNER [shrugging his
shoulders in a shivery way]

Er--certainly. [Meaning he does not mind.
He opens the window.]

MIRALDA CLEMENT

Thank you so much.

MAN IN THE CORNER

Not at all. [He does not mean to contradict
her. Stoical silence again.]

MIRALDA CLEMENT

Would you mind having it shut now? I
think it is rather cold.

MAN IN THE CORNER

Certainly.

[He shuts it. Silence again.]

MIRALDA CLEMENT

I think I'd like the window open again now
for a bit. It is rather stuffy, isn't it?

MAN IN THE CORNER

Well, I think it's very cold.

MIRALDA CLEMENT

0, do you? But would you mind opening
it for me?

MAN IN THE CORNER

I'd much rather it was shut, if you don't
mind.

[She sighs, moves her hands slightly, and
her pretty face expresses the resignation of
the Christian martyr in the presence of
lions. This for the benefit of John.]

JOHN

Allow me, madam.

[He leans across the window's rightful
owner, a bigger man than he, and opens his
window.

MAN IN THE CORNER shrugs his shoul-
ders and, quite sensibly, turns to his paper.]

MIRALDA

0, thank you so much.

JOHN

Don't mention it.

[Silence again.]

VOICES OF PORTERS [Off]

Fan Kar, Fan Kar.

[MAN IN THE CORNER gets out.]

MIRALDA

Could you tell me where this is?

JOHN

Yes. Elephant and Castle.

MIRALDA

Thank you so much. It was kind of you to
protect me from that horrid man. He wanted
to suffocate me.

JOHN

O, very glad to assist you, I'm sure. Very
glad.

MIRALDA

I should have been afraid to have done it in
spite of him. It was splendid of you.

JOHN

O, that was nothing.
   
MIRALDA

O, it was, really.

JOHN

Only too glad to help you in any little way.

MIRALDA

It was so kind of you.

JOHN

O, not at all.

[Silence for a bit.]

MIRALDA

I've nobody to help me.

JOHN

Er, er, haven't you really?

MIRALDA

No, nobody.
  
JOHN

I'd be very glad to help you in any little
way.

MIRALDA

I wonder if you could advise me.

JOHN

I--I'd do my best.

MIRALDA

You see, I have nobody to advise me.

JOHN

No, of course not.

MIRALDA

I live with my aunt, and she doesn't under-
stand. I've no father or mother.

JOHN

O, er, er, really?

MIRALDA

No. And an uncle died and he left me a
hundred thousand pounds.

JOHN

Really?

MIRALDA

Yes. He didn't like me. I think he did it
out of contrariness as much as anything.
He was always like that to me.

JOHN

Was he? Was he really?

MIRALDA

Yes. It was invested at twenty-five per
cent. He never liked me. Thought I was
too--I don't know what.
  
JOHN
   
No.

MIRALDA

That was five years ago, and I've never got
a penny of it.
   
JOHN

Really. But, but that's not right.

MIRALDA [sadly]

No.

JOHN

Where's it invested?

MIRALDA

In Al Shaldomir.

JOHN

Where's that?

MIRALDA

I don't quite know. I never was good at
geography. I never quite knew where Persia
ends.

JOHN

And what kind of an investment was it?

MIRALDA

There's a pass in some mountains that they
can get camels over, and a huge toll is levied
on everything that goes by; that is the custom
of the tribe that lives there, and I believe
the toll is regularly collected.

JOHN

And who gets it?

MIRALDA

The chief of the tribe. He is called Ben
Hussein. But my uncle lent him all this
money, and the toll on the camels was what
they call the security. They always carry
gold and turquoise, you know.

JOHN

Do they?

MIRALDA

Yes, they get it from the rivers.

JOHN

I see.

MIRALDA

It does seem a shame his not paying,
doesn't it?

JOHN

A shame? I should think it is. An awful
shame. Why, it's a crying shame. He ought
to go to prison.

MIRALDA

Yes, he ought. But you see it's so hard
to find him. It isn't as if it was this side of
Persia. It's being on the other side that is
such a pity. If only it was in a country like,
like . . .

JOHN

I'd soon find him. I'd . . . Why, a man
like that deserves anything.

MIRALDA

It is good of you to say that.

JOHN

Why, I'd . . . And you say you never
got a penny?

MIRALDA

No.

JOHN

Well, that is a shame. I call that a down-
right shame.

MIRALDA

Now, what ought I to do?

JOHN

Do? Well, now, you know in business
there's nothing like being on the spot. When
you're on the spot you can--but then, of
course, it's so far.

MIRALDA

It is, isn't it?

JOHN

Still, I think you should go if you could.
If only I could offer to help you in any way,
I would gladly, but of course . . .

MIRALDA

What would you do?

JOHN

I'd go and find that Hussein fellow; and
then . . .

MIRALDA

Yes?  

JOHN

Why, I'd tell him a bit about the law, and
make him see that you didn't keep all that
money that belonged to someone else.

MIRALDA

Would you really?

JOHN

Nothing would please me better.

MIRALDA

Would you really? Would you go all that
way?

JOHN

It's just the sort of thing that I should like,
apart from the crying shame. The man
ought to be . . .

MIRALDA

We're getting into Holborn. Would you
come and lunch somewhere with me and talk
it over?

JOHN

Gladly. I'd be glad to help. I've got to
see a man on business first. I've come up to
see him. And then after that, after that
there was something I wanted to do after that.
I can't think what it was. But something I
wanted to do after that. O, heavens, what
was it?

[Pause.]

MIRALDA

Can't you think?

JOHN

No. O, well, it can't have been so very
important. And yet . . . Well, where shall
we lunch?

MIRALDA

Gratzenheim's.

JOHN

Right. What time?

MIRALDA

One-thirty. Would that suit?

JOHN

Perfectly. I'd like to get a man like Hus-
sein in prison. I'd like . . . O, I beg your
pardon.

[He hurries to open the door. Exit
MIRALDA.]

Now what was it I wanted to do after-
wards?

[Throws hand to forehead.]
O, never mind.

Curtain

ACT II

SCENE

JOHN'S tent in Al Shaldomir. There
are two heaps of idols, left and right, lying
upon the ground inside the tent. DAOUD
carries another idol in his arms. JOHN
looks at its face.

Six months have elapsed since the scene
in the second-class railway carriage.

JOHN BEAL

This god is holy.

[He points to the left heap. DAOUD
carries it there and lays it on the heap.]

DAOUD

Yes, great master.

JOHN BEAL

You are in no wise to call me great master.
Have not I said so? I am not your master.
I am helping you people. I know better than
you what you ought to do, because I am Eng-
lish. But that's all. I'm not your master,
See?

DAOUD

Yes, great master.

JOHN BEAL

0, go and get some more idols. Hurry.

DAOUD

Great master, I go.
[Exit.]

JOHN BEAL

I can't make these people out.

DAOUD [returning]

I have three gods.

JOHN BEAL [looking at their faces, pointing to
the two smaller idols first]
These two are holy. This one is unholy.

DAOUD

Yes, great master.

JOHN BEAL

Put them on the heap.

[DAOUD does so, two left, one right.]

Get some more.

[DAOUD salaams. Exit.]

[Looking at right heap.] What a--what a
filthy people

[Enter DAOUD with two idols.]

JOHN BEAL [after scrutiny]

This god is holy, this is unholy.

[Enter ARCHIE BEAL, wearing a "Bow-
ler" hat.]

Why, ARCHIE, this is splendid of you!
You've come! Why, that's splendid! All
that way!

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, I've come. Whatever are you doing?

JOHN BEAL

ARCHIE, it's grand of you to come! I never
ought to have asked it of you, only . . .

ARCHIE BEAL

0, that's all right. But what in the world
are you doing?

JOHN BEAL

ARCHIE, it's splendid of you.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, cut it. That's all right. But what's all
this?

JOHN BEAL

0, this. Well, well they're the very oddest
people here. It's a long story. But I wanted
to tell you first how enormously grateful I
am to you for coming.

ARCHIE BEAL

0, that's all right. But I want to know
what you're doing with all these genuine
antiques.

JOHN BEAL

Well, ARCHIE, the fact of it is they're a real
odd lot of people here. I've learnt their lan-
guage, more or less, but I don't think I quite
understand them yet. A lot of them are
Mahommedans; they worship Mahommed,
you know. He's dead. But a lot of them
worship these things, and . . .

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, what have you got 'em all in here
for?

JOHN BEAL

Yes, that's just it. I hate interfering with
them, but, well, I simply had to. You see
there's two sorts of idols here; they offer
fruit and rats to some of them; they lay them
on their hands or their laps.

ARCHIE BEAL

Why do they offer them rats?

JOHN BEAL

0, I don't know. They don't know either.
It's the right thing to do out here, it's been
the right thing for hundreds of years; nobody
exactly knows why. It's like the bows we
have on evening shoes, or anything else.
But it's all right.

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, what are you putting them in heaps
for?

JOHN BEAL

Because there's the other kind, the ones
with wide mouths and rust round them.

ARCHIE BEAL

Rust? Yes, so there is. What do they
do?

JOHN BEAL

They offer blood to them, ARCHIE. They
pour it down their throats. Sometimes they
kill people, sometimes they only bleed them.
It depends how much blood the idol wants.

ARCHIE BEAL

How much blood it wants? Good Lord!
How do they know?

JOHN BEAL

The priests tell them. Sometimes they
fill them up to their necks--they're all hollow,
you know. In spring it's awful.

ARCHIE BEAL

Why are they worse in spring?

JOHN BEAL

I don't know. The priests ask for more
blood then. Much more. They say it always
was so.

ARCHIE BEAL

And you're stopping it?

JOHN BEAL

Yes, I'm stopping these. One must. I'm
letting them worship those. Of course, it's
idolatry and all that kind of thing, but I
don't like interfering short of actual murder.

ARCHIE BEAL

And they're obeying you?

JOHN BEAL

'M, y-yes. I think so.

ARCHIE BEAL

You must have got a great hold over them.

JOHN BEAL

Well, I don't know about that. It's the
pass that counts.

ARCHIE BEAL

The pass?

JOHN BEAL

Yes, that place you came over. It's the
only way anyone can get here.

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, I suppose it is. But how does the pass
affect these idols?

JOHN BEAL

It affects everything here. If that pass
were closed no living man would ever enter
or leave, or even hear of, this country. It's
absolutely cut off except for that one pass.
Why, ARCHIE, it isn't even on the map.

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, I know.

JOHN BEAL

Well, whoever owns that pass is everybody.
No one else counts.

ARCHIE BEAL

And who does own it?

JOHN BEAL

Well, it's actually owned by a fellow called
Hussein, but Miss Clement's uncle, a man
called Hinnard, a kind of lonely explorer,
seems to have come this way; and I think he
understood what this pass is worth. Any-
how, he lent Hussein a big sum of money and
got an acknowledgment from Hussein. Old
Hinnard must have been a wonderfully
shrewd man. For that acknowledgment is
no more legal than an I.O.U., and Hussein
is simply a brigand.

ARCHIE BEAL

Not very good security.

JOHN BEAL

Well, you're wrong there. Hussein himself
respects that piece of parchment he signed.
There's the name of some god or other written
on it Hussein is frightened of. Now you
see how things are. That pass is as holy as
all the gods that there are in Al Shaldomir.
Hussein possesses it. But he owes an enor-
mous sum to Miss Miralda Clement, and I am
here as her agent; and you've come to help
me like a great sportsman.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, never mind that. Well, it all seems
pretty simple.

JOHN BEAL

Well, I don't know, ARCHIE. Hussein
admits the debt, but . . .

ARCHIE BEAL

But what?

JOHN BEAL

I don't know what he'll do.

ARCHIE BEAL

Wants watching, does he?

JOHN BEAL

Yes. And meanwhile I feel sort of re-
sponsible for all these silly people. Some-
body's got to look after them. Daoud!

DAOUD [off]

Great master.

JOHN BEAL

Bring in some more gods.

DAOUD

Yes, great master.

JOHN BEAL

I can't get them to stop calling me absurd
titles. They're so infernally Oriental.

[Enter DAOUD.]

ARCHIE BEAL

He's got two big ones this time.

JOHN BEAL [to ARCHIE]

You see, there is rust about their mouths.
[To DAOUD]: They are both unholy.

[He points to R. heap, and DAOUD
puts them there. To DAOUD.]

Bring in some more.

DAOUD

Great master, there are no more gods in
Al Shaldomir.

JOHN BEAL

It is well.

DAOUD

What orders, great master.

JOHN BEAL

Listen. At night you shall come and take
these gods away. These shall be worshipped
again in their own place, these you shall cast
into the great river and tell no man where you
cast them.

DAOUD

Yes, great master.

JOHN BEAL

You will do this, Daoud?

DAOUD

Even so, great master.

JOHN BEAL

I am sorry to make you do it. You are
sad that you have to do it. Yet it must be
done.

DAOUD

Yes, I am sad, great master.

JOHN BEAL

But why are you sad, Daoud?

DAOUD

Great master, in times you do not know
these gods were holy. In times you have not
guessed. In old centuries, master, perhaps
before the pass. Men have prayed to them,
sorrowed before them, given offerings to
them. The light of old hearths has shone on
them, flames from old battles. The shadow
of the mountains has fallen on them, so
many times, master, so many times. Dawn
and sunset have shone on them, master, like
firelight flickering; dawn and sunset, dawn
and sunset, flicker, flicker, flicker for century
after century. They have sat there watching
the dawns like old men by the fire. They are
so old, master, so old. And some day dawn
and sunset will die away and shine on the
world no more, and they would have still
sat on in the cold. And now they go. . .
They are our history, master, they are our old
times. Though they be bad times they are
our times, master; and now they go. I am
sad, master, when the old gods go.

JOHN BEAL

But they are bad gods, Daoud.

DAOUD

I am sad when the bad gods go.

JOHN BEAL

They must go, Daoud. See, there is no
one watching. Take them now.

RESCAN 66-67

sible. If Hussein's lot turn nasty you don't
know what he'd do, with all those idols and
all.

ARCHIE BEAL

He'll give 'em a drink, you mean.

JOHN BEAL

Don't, ARCHIE. There's no saying. And I
feel responsible for you.

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, they can have my hat. It looks
silly, somehow. I don't know why. What
are we going to do?

JOHN BEAL

Well, now that you've come we can go
ahead.

ARCHIE BEAL

Righto. What at?

JOHN BEAL

We've got to see Hussein's accounts, and
get everything clear in black and white, and
see just what he owes to Miss Miralda
Clement.

ARCHIE BEAL

But they don't keep accounts here.

JOHN BEAL

How do you know?

ARCHIE BEAL

Why, of course they don't. One can see
that.

JOHN BEAL

But they must.

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, you haven't changed a bit for your
six months here.

JOHN BEAL

Haven't changed?

ARCHIE BEAL

No. Just quietly thinking of business.
You'll be a great business man, Johnny.

JOHN BEAL

But we must do business; that's what I
came here for.

ARCHIE BEAL

You'll never make these people do it.

JOHN BEAL

Well, what do you suggest?

ARCHIE BEAL

Let's have a look at old Hussein.

JOHN BEAL

Yes, that's what I have been waiting for.
Daoud!

DAOUD [off]

Master. [Enters.]

JOHN BEAL

Go to the palace of the Lord of the pass
and beat on the outer door. Say that I de-
sire to see him. Pray him to come to my
tent.

[DAOUD bows and Exit.]

[To ARCHIE.] I've sent him to the palace
to ask Hussein to come.

ARCHIE BEAL

Lives in a palace, does he?

JOHN BEAL

Yes, it's a palace, it's a wonderful place.
It's bigger than the Mansion House, much.

ARCHIE BEAL

And you're going to teach him to keep
accounts.

JOHN BEAL

Well, I must. I hate doing it. It seems
almost like being rude to the Lord Mayor.
But there's two things I can't stand--cheat-
ing in business is one and murder's another.
I've got to interfere. You see, if one happens
to know the right from wrong as we do, we've
simply got to tell people who don't. But
it isn't pleasant. I almost wish I'd never
come.

ARCHIE BEAL

Why, it's the greatest sport in the world.
It's splendid.

JOHN BEAL

I don't see it that way. To me those idols
are just horrid murder. And this man owes
money to this girl with no one to look after
her, and he's got to pay. But I hate being
rude to a man in a place like the Mansion
House, even if he is black. Why, good Lord,
who am I? It seems such cheek.

ARCHIE BEAL

I say, Johnny, tell me about the lady. Is
she pretty?

JOHN BEAL

What, Miss Miralda? Yes.

ARCHIE BEAL

But what I mean is--what's she like?

JOHN BEAL

Oh, I don't know. It's very hard to say.
She's, she's tall and she's fair and she's got
blue eyes.

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, but I mean what kind of a person is
she? How does she strike you?

JOHN BEAL

Well, she's pretty hard up until she gets
this money, and she hasn't got any job that's
any good, and no real prospects bar this,
and nobody particular by birth, and doesn't
know anybody who is, and lives in the least
fashionable suburb and can only just afford
a second-class fare and . . .

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, yes, go on.

JOHN BEAL

And yet somehow she sort of seems like a--
like a queen.

ARCHIE BEAL

Lord above us! And what kind of a queen?

JOHN BEAL

0, I don't know. Well, look here, ARCHIE,
it's only my impression. I don't know her
well yet. It's only my impression. I only
tell you in absolute confidence. You won't
pass it on to anybody, of course.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, no. Go on.

JOHN BEAL

Well, I don't know, only she seemed more
like well, a kind of autocrat, you know,
who'd stop at nothing. Well, no, I don't
mean that, only . . .

ARCHIE BEAL

So you're not going to marry her?

JOHN BEAL

Marry her! Good Lord, no. Why, you'd
never dare ask her. She's not that sort. I
tell you she's a sort of queen. And (Good
Lord!) she'd be a queen if it wasn't for Hus-
sein, or something very like one. We can't
go marrying queens. Anyhow, not one like
her.

ARCHIE BEAL

Why not one like her?

JOHN BEAL

I tell you--she's a--well, a kind of goddess.
You couldn't ask her if she loved you. It
would be such, such . . .

ARCHIE BEAL

Such what?

JOHN BEAL

Such infernal cheek.

ARCHIE BEAL

I see. Well, I see you aren't in love with
her. But it seems to me you'll be seeing a
good deal of her some day if we pull this off.
And then, my boy-o, you'll be going and
getting in love with her.

JOHN BEAL

I tell you I daren't. I'd as soon propose to
the Queen of Sheba.

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, Johnny, I'm going to protect you
from her all I can.

JOHN BEAL

Protect me from her? Why?

ARCHIE BEAL

Why, because there's lots of other girls
and it seems to me you might be happier with
some of them.

JOHN BEAL

But you haven't even seen her.

ARCHIE BEAL

Nor I have. Still, if I'm here to protect
you I somehow think I will. And if I'm not
. . .

JOHN BEAL

Well, and what then?

ARCHIE BEAL

What nonsense I'm talking. Fate does
everything. I can't protect you.

JOHN BEAL

Yes, it's nonsense all right, ARCHIE, but . . .

HUSSEIN [off]

I am here.

JOHN BEAL

Be seen.

[HUSSEIN enters. He is not unlike
Bluebeard.]

JOHN BEAL [pointing to ARCHIE]
My brother.

[ARCHIE shakes hands with HUSSEIN.
HUSSEIN looks at his hand when it is
over in a puzzled way. JOHN BEAL and
Hussein then bow to each other.]

HUSSEIN

You desired my presence.

JOHN BEAL

I am honoured.

HUSSEIN

And I.

JOHN BEAL

The white traveller, whom we call Hinnard,
lent you one thousand greater gold pieces,
which in our money is one hundred thousand
pounds, as you acknowledge. [Hussein
nods his head.] And every year you were to
pay him for this two hundred and fifty of your
greater gold pieces--as you acknowledge also.

HUSSEIN

Even so.

JOHN BEAL

And this you have not yet had chance to
pay, but owe it still.

HUSSEIN

I do.

JOHN BEAL

And now Hinnard is dead.

HUSSEIN

Peace be with him.

JOHN BEAL

His heiress is Miss Miralda Clement, who
instructs me to be her agent. What have you
to say?

HUSSEIN

Peace be with Hinnard.

JOHN BEAL

You acknowledge your debt to this lady,
Miss Miralda Clement?

HUSSEIN

I know her not.

JOHN BEAL

You will not pay your debt?

HUSSEIN

I will pay.

JOHN BEAL

If you bring the gold to my tent, my
brother will take it to Miss Clement.

HUSSEIN

I do not pay to Miss Clement.

JOHN BEAL

To whom do you pay?

HUSSEIN

I pay to Hinnard.

JOHN BEAL

Hinnard is dead.

HUSSEIN

I pay to Hinnard.

JOHN BEAL

How will you pay to Hinnard?

HUSSEIN

If he be buried in the sea . . .

JOHN BEAL

He is not buried at sea.

HUSSEIN

If he be buried by any river I go to the god
of rivers.

JOHN BEAL

He is buried on land near no river.

HUSSEIN

Therefore I will go to a bronze god of
earth, very holy, having the soil in his care
and the things of earth. I will take unto him
the greater pieces of gold due up to the year
when the white traveller died, and will melt
them in fire at his feet by night on the moun-
tains, saying, " O, Lruru-onn (this is his
name) take this by the way of earth to the
grave of Hinnard." And so I shall be free
of my debt before all gods.

JOHN BEAL

But not before me. I am English. And
we are greater than gods.

ARCHIE BEAL

What's that, Johnny?

JOHN BEAL

He won't pay, but I told him we're English
and that they're greater than all his bronze
gods.

ARCHIE BEAL

That's right, Johnny.

[HUSSEIN looks fiercely at ARCHIE.
He sees ARCHIE'S hat lying before a big
idol. He points at the hat and looks in
the face of the idol.]

HUSSEIN [to the idol]
Drink! Drink!

[He bows. Exit.]

ARCHIE BEAL

What's that he's saying?

JOHN BEAL [meditatively]
O, nothing--nothing.

ARCHIE BEAL

He won't pay, oh?

JOHN BEAL

No, not to Miss Miralda.

ARCHIE BEAL

Who to?

JOHN BEAL

To one of his gods.

ARCHIE BEAL

That won't do.

JOHN BEAL

No.

ARCHIE BEAL

What'll we do?

JOHN BEAL

I don't quite know. It isn't as if we were in
England.

ARCHIE BEAL

No, it isn't.

JOHN BEAL

If we were in England . . .

ARCHIE BEAL

I know; if we were in England you could
call a policeman. I tell you what it is,
Johnny.

JOHN BEAL

Yes?

ARCHIE BEAL

I tell you what; you want to see more of
Miss Clement.

JOHN BEAL

Why?

ARCHIE BEAL

Why, because at the present moment our
friend Hussein is a craftier fellow than you,
and looks like getting the best of it.

JOHN BEAL

How will seeing more of Miss Miralda help
us?

ARCHIE BEAL

Why, because you want to be a bit craftier
than Hussein, and I fancy she might make
you.

JOHN BEAL

She? How?

ARCHIE BEAL

We're mostly made what we are by some
woman or other. We think it's our own
cleverness, but we're wrong. As things are
you're no match for Hussein, but if you
altered . . .

JOHN BEAL

Why, ARCHIE; where did you get all those
ideas from?

ARCHIE BEAL

O, I don't know.

JOHN BEAL

You never used to talk like that.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, well.

JOHN BEAL

You haven't been getting in love, ARCHIE,
have you?

ARCHIE BEAL

What are we to do about Hussein?

JOHN BEAL

It's funny your mentioning Miss Miralda.
I got a letter from her the same day I got
yours.

ARCHIE BEAL

What does she say?

JOHN BEAL

I couldn't make it out.

ARCHIE BEAL

What were her words?

JOHN BEAL

She said she was going into it closer. She
underlined closer. What could she mean by
that? How could she get closer?

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, the same way as I did.

JOHN BEAL

How do you mean? I don't understand.

ARCHIE BEAL

By coming here.

JOHN BEAL

By coming here? But she can't come here.

ARCHIE BEAL

Why not?

JOHN BEAL

Because it's impossible. Absolutely im-
possible. Why--good Lord--she couldn't
come here. Why, she'd want a chaperon and
a house and--and--everything. Good Lord,
she couldn't come here. It would be--well
it would be impossible--it couldn't be done.

ARCHIE BEAL

0, all right. Then I don't know what she
meant.

JOHN BEAL

ARCHIE! You don't really think she'd come
here? You don't really think it, do you?

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, it's the sort of thing that that sort of
girl might do, but of course I can't say . . .

JOHN BEAL

Good Lord, ARCHIE! That would be awful.

ARCHIE BEAL

But why?

JOHN BEAL

Why? But what would I do? Where
would she go? Where would her chaperon
go? The chaperon would be some elderly
lady. Why, it would kill her.

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, if it did you've never met her, so vou
needn't go into mourning for an elderly lady
that you don't know; not yet, anyway.

JOHN BEAL

No, of course not. You're laughing at me,
ARCHIE. But for the moment I took you
seriously. Of course, she won't come. One
can go into a thing closely without doing it   
absolutely literally. But, good Lord, wouldn't
it be an awful situation if she did.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, I don't know.

JOHN BEAL

All alone with me here? No, impossible.
And the country isn't civilised.

ARCHIE BEAL.

Women aren't civilised.

JOHN BEAL

Women aren't . . .? Good Lord, ARCHIE,
what an awful remark. What do you mean?

ARCHIE BEAL

We're tame, they're wild. We like all the
dull things and the quiet things, they like
all the romantic things and the dangerous
things.

JOHN BEAL

Why, ARCHIE, it's just the other way about.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, yes; we do all the romantic things, and
all the dangerous things. But why?

JOHN BEAL

Why? Because we like them, I suppose.
I can't think of any other reason.

ARCHIE BEAL

I hate danger. Don't you?

JOHN BEAL

Er--well, yes, I suppose I do, really.

ARCHIE BEAL

Of course you do. We all do. It's the
women that put us up to it. She's putting
you up to this. And the more she puts you
up to the more likely is Hussein to get it in his
fat neck.

JOHN BEAL

But--but you don't mean you'd hurt
Hussein? Not--not badly, I mean.

ARCHIE BEAL

We're under her orders, Johnny. See what
she says.

JOHN BEAL

You, you don't really think she'll come
here?

ARCHIE BEAL

Of course I do, and the best thing too.
It's her show; she ought to come.

JOHN BEAL

But, but you don't understand. She's
just a young girl, A girl like Miss Miralda   
couldn't come out here over the pass and
down these mountains, she'd never stand it,   
and as for the chaperon . . . You've
never met Miss Miralda.

ARCHIE BEAL

No, Johnny. But the girl that was able to
get you to go from Bromley to this place can
look after herself.

JOHN BEAL

I don't see what that's got to do with it.
She was in trouble and I had to help her.

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, and she'll be in trouble all the way
here from Blackheath, and everyone will have
to help her.

JOHN BEAL

What beats me is how you can have the
very faintest inkling of what she's like with-
out ever having seen her and without my
having spoken of her to you for more than a
minute.

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, Johnny, you're not a romantic bird,
you're not a traveller by nature, barring your
one trip to Eastbourne, and it was I that took
you there. And contrariwise, as they say in
a book you've never read, you're a level-
headed business man and a hardworking
respectable stay-at-home. You meet a girl
in a train, and the next time I see you you're
in a place that isn't marked on the map and
telling it what gods it ought to worship and
what gods it ought to have agnosticism about.
Well, I say some girl.

JOHN BEAL

Well, I must say you make the most extra-
ordinary deductions, but it was awfully good
of you to come, and I ought to be grateful;
and I am, too, I'm awfully grateful; and I
ought to let you talk all the rot you like. Go
ahead. You shall say what you like and do
what you like. It isn't many brothers that
would do what you've done.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, that's nothing. I like this country.
I'm glad I came. And if I can help you with
Hussein, why all the better.

JOHN BEAL

It's an awful country, Archie, but we've
got to see this through.

ARCHIE BEAL

Does she know all about Hussein?

JOHN BEAL

Yes, everything. I've written fully.

OMAR [Off]

Al Shaldomir, Al Shaldomir,
The nightingales that guard thy ways . . .

JOHN BEAL [shouting|

O, go away, go away. [To ARCHIE.] I said
it was an awful country. They sit down out-
side one's tent and do that kind of thing for
no earthly reason.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, I'd let them sing.

JOHN BEAL

0, you can't have people doing that kind of
thing.

OMAR [in doorway]

Master, I go.

JOHN BEAL

But why do you come?

OMAR

I came to sing a joyous song to you, master.

JOHN BEAL

Why did you want to sing me a joyous
song?

OMAR

Because a lady is riding out of the West.
[Exit.]

JOHN BEAL

A lady out of . . . Good Lord!

ARCHIE BEAL

She's coming, Johnny.

JOHN BEAL

Coming? Good Lord, no, Archie. He said
a lady; there'd be the chaperon too. There'd
be two of them if it was Miss Miralda. But
he said a lady. One lady. It can't be her.
A girl like that alone in Al Shaldomir. Clean
off the map. Oh, no, it isn't possible.

ARCHIE BEAL

I wouldn't worry.

JOHN BEAL

Wouldn't worry? But, good Lord, the
situation's impossible. People would talk.
Don't you see what people would say? And
where could they go? Who would look after
them? Do try and understand how awful
it is. But it isn't. It's impossible. It can't
be them. For heaven's sake run out and see
if it is; and (good Lord!) I haven't brushed
my hair all day, and, and--oh, look at me.

[He rushes to camp mirror. Exit
ARCHIE.

JOHN BEAL tidies up desperately.

Enter ARCHIE.]

ARCHIE BEAL

It's what you call THEM.

JOHN BEAL

What I call THEM? Whatever do you
mean?

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, it's her. She's just like what you said.

JOHN BEAL

But it can't be. She doesn't ride. She can
never have been able to afford a horse.

ARCHIE BEAL

She's on a camel. She'll be here in a mo-
ment. [He goes to door.] Hurry up with that
hair; she's dismounted.

JOHN BEAL

O, Lord! What's the chaperon like?

ARCHIE BEAL

O, she's attending to that herself.

JOHN BEAL

Attending to it herself? What do you
mean?

ARCHIE BEAL

I expect she'll attend to most things.

[Enter HAFIZ EL ALCOLAHN in door-
way of tent, pulling back flap a little.]

JOHN BEAL

Who are you?

HAFIZ

I show the gracious lady to your tent.

[Enter MIRALDA CLEMENT, throwing
a smile to HAFIZ.]

MIRALDA

Hullo, Mr. Beal.

JOHN BEAL

Er--er--how do you do?

[She looks at ARCHIE.]

O, this is my brother--Miss Clement.

MIRANDA and ARCHIE BEAL

How do you do?

MIRALDA

I like this country.

JOHN BEAL

I'm afraid I hardly expected you.

MIRALDA

Didn't you?

JOHN BEAL

No. You see er--it's such a long way.
And wasn't it very expensive?

MIRALDA

Well, the captain of the ship was very kind
to me.

JOHN BEAL

O! But what did you do when you landed?

MIRALDA

0, there were some Arabs coming this way
in a caravan. They were really very good to
me too.

JOHN BEAL

But the camel?

MIRALDA

0, there were some people the other side of
the mountains. Everybody has been very
kind about it. And then there was the man
who showed me here. He's called Hafiz el
Alcolahn. It's a nice name, don't you think?

JOHN BEAL

But, you know, this country, Miss Cle-
ment, I'm half afraid it's hardly--isn't it,
Archie? Er--how long did you think of
staying?

MIRALDA

O, a week or so.

JOHN BEAL

I don't know what you'll think of Al Shal-
domir. I'm afraid you'll find it . . .

MIRALDA

Oh, I like it. Just that hollow in the moun-
tains, and the one pass, and no record of it
anywhere. I like that. I think it's lovely.

JOHN BEAL

You see, I'm afraid--what I mean is I'm
afraid the place isn't even on the map!

MIRALDA

O, that's lovely of it.

JOHN BEAL

All decent places are.

MIRALDA

You mean if a place is on the map we've
got to behave accordingly. But if not, why . . .

JOHN BEAL

Hussein won't pay.

MIRALDA

Let's see Hussein.

JOHN BEAL

I'm afraid he's rather, he's rather a savage-
looking brigand.

MIRALDA

Never mind.

[ARCHIE is quietly listening and smiling
sometimes.

Enter DAOUD. He goes up to the un-
holy heap and takes away two large idols,
one under each arm. Exit.]

What's that, Mr. Beal?

JOHN BEAL

O, that. I'm afraid it's rather horrible.
I told you it was an awful country. They
pray to these idols here, and some are all
right, though of course it's terribly blasphe-
mous, but that heap, well, I'm afraid, well
that heap is very bad indeed.

MIRALDA

What do they do?

JOHN BEAL

They kill people.

MIRALDA

Do they? How?

JOHN BEAL

I'm afraid they pour their blood down those
horrible throats.

MIRALDA

Do they? How do you know?

JOHN BEAL

I've seen them do it, and those mouths
are all rusty. But it's all right now. It
won't happen any more.

MIRALDA

Won't it? Why not?

JOHN BEAL

Well, I . . .

ARCHIE BEAL

He's stopped them, Miss Clement. They're
all going to be thrown into the river.

MIRALDA

Have you?

JOHN BEAL

Well, yes. I had to. So it's all right now.
They won't do it any more.

MIRALDA

H'm.

JOHN BEAL

What, what is it? I promise you that's all
right. They won't do that any more.

MIRALDA

H'm. I've never known anyone that tried
to govern a country or anything of that sort,
but . . .

JOHN BEAL

Of course, I'm just doing what I can to put
them right.. . . I'd be very glad of your
advice. . . Of course, I'm only here in
your name.

MIRALDA

What I mean is that I'd always thought
that the one thing you shouldn't do, if you
don't mind my saying so. . .

JOHN BEAL

No, certainly.

MIRALDA

Was to interfere in people's re-
ligious beliefs.

JOHN BEAL

But, but I don't think you quite under-
stand. The priests knife these people in the
throat, boys and girls, and then acolytes
lift them up and the blood runs down. I've
seen them.

MIRALDA

I think it's best to leave religion to the
priests. They understand that kind of thing.

[JOHN BEAL opens his mouth in horror
and looks at ARCHIE. ARCHIE returns
the glance; there is very nearly a twinkle in
ARCHIE's eyes.]

MIRALDA

Let's see Hussein.

JOHN BEAL

What do you think, Archie?

ARCHIE BEAL

Poor fellow. We'd better send for him.

MIRALDA

Why do you say "poor fellow"?

ARCHIE BEAL

Oh, because he's so much in debt. It's
awful to be in debt. I'd sooner almost any-
thing happened to me than to owe a lot of
money.

MIRALDA

Your remark didn't sound very compli-
mentary.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, I only meant that I'd hate to be in debt.
And I should hate owing money to you,
Because . . .

MIRALDA

Why?  

ARCHIE BEAL

Because I should so awfully want to pay it.

MIRALDA

I see.

ARCHIE BEAL

That's all I meant.

MIRALDA

Does Hussein awfully want to pay it?

ARCHIE BEAL

Well, no. But he hasn't seen you yet. He
will then, of course.

[Enter DAOUD. He goes to the unholy
heap.]

JOHN BEAL

Daoud, for the present these gods must
stay. Aho-oomlah's gone, but the rest must
stay for the present.

DAOUD

Even so, great master.

JOHN BEAL

Daoud, go once more to the palace of the
Lord of the Pass and beat the outer door.
Say that the great lady herself would see him.
The great lady, Miss Clement, the white
traveller's heiress.

DAOUD

Yes, master.

JOHN BEAL

Hasten.

[Exit DAOUD.]

I have sent him for Hussein.

MIRALDA

I don't know their language.

JOHN BEAL

You will see him, and I'll tell you what he
says.

MIRALDA [to ARCHIE]

Have you been here long?

ARCHIE BEAL

No. I think he wrote to me by the same
mail as he wrote to you (if they have mails
here). I came at once.

MIRALDA

So did I; but you weren't on the Empress
of Switzerland.

ARCHIE BEAL

No, I came round more by land.

JOHN BEAL

You know, I hardly like bringing Hussein
in here to see you. He's such a--he's rather
a . . .

MIRALDA

What's the matter with him?

JOHN BEAL

Well, he's rather of the brigand type, and
one doesn't know what he'll do.

MIRALDA

Well, we must see him first and hear what
he has to say before we take any steps.

JOHN BEAL

But what do you propose to do?

MIRALDA

Why, if he pays me everything he owes, or
gives up the security . . .

JOHN BEAL

The security is the pass.

MIRALDA

Yes. If he gives up that or pays . . .

JOHN BEAL

You know he's practically king of the
whole country. It seems rather cheek almost
my sending for him like this.

MIRALDA

He must come.

JOHN BEAL

But what are you going to do?

MIRALDA

If he gives up the pass . . .

JOHN BEAL

Why, if he gives up the pass you'd be
you'd be a kind of queen of it all.

MIRALDA

Well, if he does that, all right. . .

JOHN BEAL

But what if he doesn't?

MIRALDA

Why, if he doesn't pay . . .

HUSSEIN [off]

I am here.

JOHN BEAL

Be seen.

[Enter HUSSEIN.]

HUSSEIN

Greeting once more.

JOHN BEAL

Again greeting.... The great lady,
Miss Clement, is here.

[HUSSEIN and MIRALDA look at each
other.]

You will pay to Miss Clement and not to
your god of bronze. On the word of an Eng-
lishman, your god of bronze shall not have
one gold piece that belongs to the great lady!

HUSSEIN [looking contemptuous]

On the word of the Lord of the Pass, I only
pay to Hinnard.

[He stands smiling while MIRALDA
regards him. Exit.]

ARCHIE BEAL

Well?

JOHN BEAL

He won't pay.

ARCHIE BEAL

What are we to do now?

JOHN BEAL [to MIRALDA]
  
I'm afraid he's rather an ugly customer to
introduce you to like that. I'm sorry he came
now.

MIRALDA

0, I like him, I think he looks splendid.

ARCHIE BEAL
   
Well, what are we to do?

JOHN BEAL

Yes.

ARCHIE BEAL

What do you say, Miss Clement?

JOHN BEAL

Yes, what do you feel we ought to do?

MIRALDA

Well, perhaps I ought to leave all that to
you.

ARCHIE BEAL

O, no.

JOHN BEAL

No, it's your money. What do you think
we really ought to do?

MIRALDA

Well, of course, I think you ought to kill
Hussein.

[JOHN BEAL and ARCHIE BEAL look
at each other a little startled.]

JOHN BEAL

But wouldn't that--wouldn't that be--
murder?

MIRALDA

0, yes, according to the English law.

JOHN BEAL

I see; you mean--you mean we're not--but
we are English.

MIRALDA

I mean it wouldn't be murder--by your
law, unless you made it so.

JOHN BEAL

By my law?

MIRALDA

Yes, if you can interfere with their religion
like this, and none of them say a word, why--
you can make any laws you like.

JOHN BEAL

But Hussein is king here; he is Lord of the
Pass, and that's everything here. I'm nobody.

MIRALDA

0, if you like to be nobody, of course that's
different.

ARCHIE BEAL

I think she means that if Hussein weren't
there there'd be only you. Of course, I don't
know. I've only just come.

JOHN BEAL

But we can't kill Hussein!

[MIRALDA begins to cry.]

O Lord! Good heavens! Please, Miss
Clement! I'm awfully sorry if I've said any-
thing you didn't like. I wouldn't do that for
worlds. I'm awfully sorry. It's a beastly
country, I know. I'm really sorry you came.
I feel it's all my fault. I'm really awfully
sorry. . .

MIRALDA

Never mind. Never mind. I was so help-
less, and I asked you to help me. I never
ought to have done it. I oughtn't to have
spoken to you at all in that train without
being introduced; but I was so helpless. And
now, and now, I haven't a penny in the world,
and, O, I don't know what to do.

ARCHIE BEAL

We'll do anything for you, Miss Clement.

JOHN BEAL

Anything in the wide world. Please, please
don't cry. We'll do anything.

MIRALDA

I . . . I only, I only wanted to--to kill
Hussein. But never mind, it doesn't matter
now.

JOHN BEAL

We'll do it, Miss Clement, won't we,
Archie? Only don't cry. We'll do it. I--I
suppose he deserves it, doesn't he?

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, I suppose he does.

JOHN BEAL

Well, all right, Miss Clement, that's settled.
My brother and I will talk it over.

MIRALDA [still sniping]

And--and--don't hang him or anything--
he looks so fine.... I--I wouldn't like
him treated like that. He has such a grand
beard. He ought to die fighting.

JOHN BEAL

We'll see what we can do, Miss Clement.

MIRALDA

It is sweet of you. It's really sweet. It's
sweet of both of you. I don't know what I d
have done without you. I seemed to know
it that day the moment I saw you.

JOHN BEAL

0, it's nothing, Miss Clement, nothing at
all.

ARCHIE BEAL

That's all right.

MIRALDA

Well, now I'll have to look for an hotel.

JOHN BEAL

Yes, that's the trouble, that really is the
trouble. That's what I've been thinking of

MIRALDA

Why, isn't there . . .

JOHN BEAL

No, I'm afraid there isn't. What are we to
do, Archie.

ARCHIE BEAL

I--I can't think. Perhaps Miss Clement
would have a scheme.

MIRALDA [to JOHN BEAL]

I rely on you, Mr. Beal.

JOHN BEAL

I--I; but what can I . . . You see,
you're all alone. If you'd anyone with you,
you could have . . .

MIRALDA

I did think of bringing a rather nice aunt.
But on the whole I thought it better not to
tell anyone.

JOHN BEAL

Not to tell . . .

MIRALDA

No, on the whole I didn't.

JOHN BEAL

I say, Archie, what are we to do?

ARCHIE BEAL

Here's Daoud.

[Enter DAOUD.]

JOHN BEAL

The one man I trust in Al Shaldomir!

DAOUD

I have brought two watchers of the door-
step to guard the noble lady.

JOHN BEAL

He says he's brought two watchers of the
doorstep to look after Miss Clement.

ARCHIE BEAL

Two chaperons! Splendid! She can go
anywhere now.

JOHN BEAL

Well, really, that is better. Yes that will
be all right. We can find a room for you now.
The trouble was your being alone. I hope
you'll like them. [To DAOUD.] Tell them
to enter here.

DAOUD [beckoning in the doorway]

Ho! Enter!

JOHN BEAL

That's all right, ARCHIE, isn't it?

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, that's all right. A chaperon's a
chaperon, black or white.

JOHN BEAL

You won't mind their being black, will you,
Miss Clement?

MIRALDA

No, I shan't mind. They can't be worse
than white ones.

[Enter BAzzAroL and THOOTHOOBABA
two enormous Nubians, bearing peacock
fans and wearing scimitars. All stare at
them. They begin to fan slightly.]

DAOUD

The watchers of the doorstep.

JOHN BEAL

Idiot, Daoud! Fools! Dolts! Men may
not guard a lady's door.

[BAZZALOL and THOOTHOOBABA smile
ingratiatingly.]

We are not men.

BAZZALOL [bowing]

Curtain

Six and a half years elapse

THE SONG OF THE IRIS MARSHES

When morn is bright on the mountains olden
Till dawn is lost in the blaze of day,
When morn is bright and the marshes golden,
Where shall the lost lights fade away?
And where, my love, shall we dream to-day?

Dawn is fled to the marshy hollows
Where ghosts of stars in the dimness stray,
And the water is streaked with the flash of
swallows
And all through summer the iris sway.
But where, my love, shall we dream to-day?

When night is black in the iris marshes.

ACT III

SCENE I

Six and a half years later.
Al Shaldomir.
A room in the palace.

MIRALDA reclines on a heap of cushions,
JOHN beside her.

Bazzalol and Thoothoobaba fan them.

OMAR [declaiming to a zither]

Al Shaldomir, Al Shaldomir,
The nightingales that guard thy ways
Cease not to give thee, after God
And after Paradise, all praise.
Thou art the theme of all their lays.
Al Shaldomir, Al Shaldomir. . . .

MIRALDA

Go now, Omar.

OMAR

O lady, I depart.
[Exit.]

MIRALDA [languidly]

John, John. I wish you'd marry me.

JOHN

Miralda, you're thinking of those old cus-
toms again that we left behind us seven years
ago. What's the good of it?

MIRALDA

I had a fancy that I wished you would.

JOHN

What's the good of it? You know you are
my beloved. There are none of those clergy-
men within hundreds of miles. What's the
good of it?

MIRALDA

We could find one, John.

JOHN

O, yes, I suppose we could, but . . .

MIRALDA

Why won't you?

JOHN

I told you why.  

MIRALDA

O, yes, that instinct that you must not
marry. That's not your reason, John.

JOHN

Yes, it is.

MIRALDA

It's a silly reason. It's a crazy reason.
It's no reason at all. There's some other
reason.

JOHN

No, there isn't. But I feel that in my
bones. I don't know why. You know that
I love none else but you. Besides, we're
never going back, and it doesn't matter.
This isn't Blackheath.

MIRALDA

So I must live as your slave.

JOHN

No, no, Miralda. My dear, you are not my
slave. Did not the singer compare our love
to the desire of the nightingale for the even-
ing star? All know that you are my queen.

MIRALDA

They do not know at home.

JOHN

Home? Home? How could they know?
What have we in common with home? Rows
and rows of little houses; and if they hear a
nightingale there they write to the papers.
And--and if they saw this they'd think they
were drunk. Miralda, don't be absurd.
What has set you thinking of home?

MIRALDA

I want to be crowned queen.

JOHN

But I am not a king. I am only Shereef.

MIRALDA

You are all-powerful here, John, you can do
what you please, if you wish to. You don't
love me at all.

JOHN

Miralda, you know I love you. Didn't
I kill Hussein for you?

MIRALDA

Yes, but you don't love me now.

JOHN

And Hussein's people killed ARCHIE. That
was for you too. I brought my brother out
here to help you. He was engaged to be
married, too.

MIRALDA

But you don't love me now.

JOHN

Yes, I do. I love you as the dawn loves
the iris marshes. You know the song they
sing. (footnote: poem just before Act III)

MIRALDA

Then why won't you marry me?

JOHN

I told you, I told you. I had a dream about
the future. I forgot the dream, but I know
I was not to marry. I will not wrong the
future.

MIRALDA

Don't be crazy.

JOHN

I will have what fancies I please, crazy or
sane. Am I not Shereef of Shaldomir? Who
dare stop me if I would be mad as Herod?

MIRALDA

I will be crowned queen.

JOHN

It is not my wish.

MIRALDA

I will, I will, I will.

JOHN

Drive me not to anger. If I have you cast
into a well and take twenty of the fairest
daughters of A1 Shaldomir in your place, who
can gainsay me?

MIRALDA

I will be crowned queen.

JOHN

O, do not be tiresome.

MIRALDA

Was it not my money that brought you
here? Was it not I who said " Kill Hussein"?
What power could you have had, had Hus-
sein lived? What would you have been doing
now, but for me?

JOHN

I don't know, Miralda.

MIRALDA

Catching some silly train to the City.
Working for some dull firm. Living in some
small suburban house. It is I, I, that brought
you from all that, and you won't make me a
queen.

JOHN

Is it not enough that you are my beloved?
You know there is none other but you. Is
it not enough, Miralda?

MIRALDA

It is not enough. I will be queen.

JOHN

Tchah! . . . Miralda, I know you are a
wonderful woman, the most wonderful in the
East; how you ever came to be in the West
I don't know, and a train of all places; but,
Miralda, you must not have petty whims,
they don't become you.

MIRALDA

Is it a petty whim to wish to be a queen?

JOHN

Yes, when it is only the name you want.
You are a queen. You have all you wish for.
Are you not my beloved? And have I not
power here over all men? Could I not close
the pass?

MIRALDA

I want to be queen.

JOHN

Oh-h! I will leave you. I have more to do
than to sit and hear your whims. When I
come back you will have some other whim.
Miralda, you have too many whims.

[He rises.]

MIRALDA

Will you be back soon?

JOHN

No.

MIRALDA

When will you come back, John?

[She is reclining, looking fair, fanning
slightly.]

JOHN

In half an hour.

MIRALDA

In half an hour?

JOHN

Yes.

[Exit.]

MIRALDA

Half an hour.

[Her fan is laid down. She clutches
it with sudden resolve. She goes to the
wall, fanning herself slowly. She leans
against it. She fans herself now with
obvious deliberation. Three times the
great fan goes pat against the window, and
then again separately three times; and
then she puts it against the window once
with a smile of ecstasy. She has signalled.
She returns to the cushions and reclines
with beautiful care, fanning herself softly.

Enter the Vizier, HAFIZ EL ALCOLAHN]

HAFIZ

Lady! You bade me come.

MIRALDA

Did I, Hafiz?

HAFIZ

Lady, your fan.

MIRALDA

Ah, I was fanning myself.

HAFIZ

Seven times, lady.

MIRALDA

Ah, was it? Well, now you're here.

HAFIZ

Lady, O star of these times. O light over
lonely marshes. [He kneels by her and em-
braces her.] Is the Shereef gone, lady?

MIRALDA

For half an hour, Hafiz.

HAFIZ

How know you for half an hour?

MIRALDA

He said so.

HAFIZ

He said so? Then is the time to fear, if a
man say so.

MIRALDA

I know him.

HAFIZ

In our country who knows any man so
much? None.

MIRALDA

He'll be away for half an hour.

HAFIZ [embracing]

O, exquisite lily of unattainable mountains.

MIRALDA

Ah, Hafiz, would you do a little thing for
me?

HAFIZ

I would do all things, lady, O evening
star.

MIRANDA

Would you make me a queen, Hafiz?

HAFIZ

If--if the Shereef were gathered?

MIRALDA

Even so, Hafiz.

HAFIZ

Lady, I would make you queen of all that
lies west of the passes.

MIRANDA

You would make me queen?

HAFIZ

Indeed, before all my wives, before all
women, over all Shaldomir, named the elect.

MIRALDA

0, well, Hafiz; then you may kiss me.
[HAF~z does so ad lib.]

Hafiz, the Shereef has irked me.

HAFIZ

Lady, O singing star, to all men is the hour.

MIRALDA

The appointed hour?

HAFIZ

Even the appointed hour, the last, leading
to darkness.