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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Doctor's Dilemma, by George Bernard Shaw
+#30 in our series by George Bernard Shaw
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+
+Title: The Doctor's Dilemma
+
+Author: George Bernard Shaw
+
+Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5070]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on April 14, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOCTOR'S DILEMMA ***
+
+
+
+
+This etext was produced by Eve Sobol, South Bend, Indiana, USA
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: The edition from which this play was taken
+was printed with no contractions, thus "we've" is written as
+"weve", "hadn't" as "hadnt", etc. There is no trailing period
+after Mr, Dr, etc., and "show" is spelt "shew", "Shakespeare" is
+Shakespear.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DOCTOR'S DILEMMA
+
+BERNARD SHAW
+
+1906
+
+
+
+I am grateful to Hesba Stretton, the authoress of "Jessica's
+First Prayer," for permission to use the title of one of her
+stories for this play.
+
+
+
+ACT I
+
+On the 15th June 1903, in the early forenoon, a medical student,
+surname Redpenny, Christian name unknown and of no importance,
+sits at work in a doctor's consulting-room. He devils for the
+doctor by answering his letters, acting as his domestic
+laboratory assistant, and making himself indispensable generally,
+in return for unspecified advantages involved by intimate
+intercourse with a leader of his profession, and amounting to an
+informal apprenticeship and a temporary affiliation. Redpenny is
+not proud, and will do anything he is asked without reservation
+of his personal dignity if he is asked in a fellow-creaturely
+way. He is a wide-open-eyed, ready, credulous, friendly, hasty
+youth, with his hair and clothes in reluctant transition from the
+untidy boy to the tidy doctor.
+
+Redpenny is interrupted by the entrance of an old serving-woman
+who has never known the cares, the preoccupations, the
+responsibilities, jealousies, and anxieties of personal beauty.
+She has the complexion of a never-washed gypsy, incurable by any
+detergent; and she has, not a regular beard and moustaches, which
+could at least be trimmed and waxed into a masculine
+presentableness, but a whole crop of small beards and moustaches,
+mostly springing from moles all over her face. She carries a
+duster and toddles about meddlesomely, spying out dust so
+diligently that whilst she is flicking off one speck she is
+already looking elsewhere for another. In conversation she has
+the same trick, hardly ever looking at the person she is
+addressing except when she is excited. She has only one manner,
+and that is the manner of an old family nurse to a child just
+after it has learnt to walk. She has used her ugliness to secure
+indulgences unattainable by Cleopatra or Fair Rosamund, and has
+the further great advantage over them that age increases her
+qualification instead of impairing it. Being an industrious,
+agreeable, and popular old soul, she is a walking sermon on the
+vanity of feminine prettiness. Just as Redpenny has no discovered
+Christian name, she has no discovered surname, and is known
+throughout the doctors' quarter between Cavendish Square and the
+Marylebone Road simply as Emmy.
+
+The consulting-room has two windows looking on Queen Anne Street.
+Between the two is a marble-topped console, with haunched gilt
+legs ending in sphinx claws. The huge pier-glass which surmounts
+it is mostly disabled from reflection by elaborate painting on
+its surface of palms, ferns, lilies, tulips, and sunflowers. The
+adjoining wall contains the fireplace, with two arm-chairs before
+it. As we happen to face the corner we see nothing of the other
+two walls. On the right of the fireplace, or rather on the right
+of any person facing the fireplace, is the door. On its left is
+the writing-table at which Redpenny sits. It is an untidy table
+with a microscope, several test tubes, and a spirit lamp standing
+up through its litter of papers.  There is a couch in the middle
+of the room, at right angles to the console, and parallel to the
+fireplace. A chair stands between the couch and the windowed
+wall. The windows have green Venetian blinds and rep curtains;
+and there is a gasalier; but it is a convert to electric
+lighting. The wall paper and carpets are mostly green, coeval
+with the gasalier and the Venetian blinds. The house, in fact,
+was so well furnished in the middle of the XIXth century that it
+stands unaltered to this day and is still quite presentable.
+
+EMMY [entering and immediately beginning to dust the couch]
+Theres a lady bothering me to see the doctor.
+
+REDPENNY [distracted by the interruption] Well, she cant see the
+doctor. Look here: whats the use of telling you that the doctor
+cant take any new patients, when the moment a knock comes to the
+door, in you bounce to ask whether he can see somebody?
+
+EMMY. Who asked you whether he could see somebody?
+
+REDPENNY. You did.
+
+EMMY. I said theres a lady bothering me to see the doctor. That
+isnt asking. Its telling.
+
+REDPENNY. Well, is the lady bothering you any reason for you to
+come bothering me when I'm busy?
+
+EMMY. Have you seen the papers?
+
+REDPENNY. No.
+
+EMMY. Not seen the birthday honors?
+
+REDPENNY [beginning to swear] What the--
+
+EMMY. Now, now, ducky!
+
+REDPENNY. What do you suppose I care about the birthday honors?
+Get out of this with your chattering. Dr Ridgeon will be down
+before I have these letters ready. Get out.
+
+EMMY. Dr Ridgeon wont never be down any more, young man.
+
+She detects dust on the console and is down on it immediately.
+
+REDPENNY [jumping up and following her] What?
+
+EMMY. He's been made a knight. Mind you dont go Dr Ridgeoning him
+in them letters. Sir Colenso Ridgeon is to be his name now.
+
+REDPENNY. I'm jolly glad.
+
+EMMY. I never was so taken aback. I always thought his great
+discoveries was fudge (let alone the mess of them) with his drops
+of blood and tubes full of Maltese fever and the like. Now he'll
+have a rare laugh at me.
+
+REDPENNY. Serve you right! It was like your cheek to talk to him
+about science. [He returns to his table and resumes his writing].
+
+EMMY. Oh, I dont think much of science; and neither will you when
+youve lived as long with it as I have. Whats on my mind is
+answering the door. Old Sir Patrick Cullen has been here already
+and left first congratulations--hadnt time to come up on his way
+to the hospital, but was determined to be first--coming back, he
+said. All the rest will be here too: the knocker will be going
+all day. What Im afraid of is that the doctor'll want a footman
+like all the rest, now that he's Sir Colenso. Mind: dont you go
+putting him up to it, ducky; for he'll never have any comfort
+with anybody but me to answer the door. I know who to let in and
+who to keep out. And that reminds me of the poor lady. I think he
+ought to see her. Shes just the kind that puts him in a good
+temper. [She dusts Redpenny's papers].
+
+REDPENNY. I tell you he cant see anybody. Do go away, Emmy. How
+can I work with you dusting all over me like this?
+
+EMMY. I'm not hindering you working--if you call writing letters
+working. There goes the bell. [She looks out of the window]. A
+doctor's carriage. Thats more congratulations. [She is going out
+when Sir Colenso Ridgeon enters]. Have you finished your two
+eggs, sonny?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes.
+
+EMMY. Have you put on your clean vest?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes.
+
+EMMY. Thats my ducky diamond! Now keep yourself tidy and dont go
+messing about and dirtying your hands: the people are coming to
+congratulate you. [She goes out].
+
+Sir Colenso Ridgeon is a man of fifty who has never shaken off
+his youth. He has the off-handed manner and the little audacities
+of address which a shy and sensitive man acquires in breaking
+himself in to intercourse with all sorts and conditions of men.
+His face is a good deal lined; his movements are slower than, for
+instance, Redpenny's; and his flaxen hair has lost its lustre;
+but in figure and manner he is more the young man than the titled
+physician. Even the lines in his face are those of overwork and
+restless scepticism, perhaps partly of curiosity and appetite,
+rather than of age. Just at present the announcement of his
+knighthood in the morning papers makes him specially self-
+conscious, and consequently specially off-hand with Redpenny.
+
+RIDGEON. Have you seen the papers? Youll have to alter the name
+in the letters if you havnt.
+
+REDPENNY. Emmy has just told me. I'm awfully glad. I--
+
+RIDGEON. Enough, young man, enough. You will soon get accustomed
+to it.
+
+REDPENNY. They ought to have done it years ago.
+
+RIDGEON. They would have; only they couldnt stand Emmy opening
+the door, I daresay.
+
+EMMY [at the door, announcing] Dr Shoemaker. [She withdraws].
+
+A middle-aged gentleman, well dressed, comes in with a friendly
+but propitiatory air, not quite sure of his reception. His
+combination of soft manners and responsive kindliness, with a
+certain unseizable reserve and a familiar yet foreign chiselling
+of feature, reveal the Jew: in this instance the handsome
+gentlemanly Jew, gone a little pigeon-breasted and stale after
+thirty, as handsome young Jews often do, but still decidedly
+good-looking.
+
+THE GENTLEMAN. Do you remember me? Schutzmacher. University
+College school and Belsize Avenue. Loony Schutzmacher, you know.
+
+RIDGEON. What! Loony! [He shakes hands cordially]. Why, man, I
+thought you were dead long ago. Sit down. [Schutzmacher sits on
+the couch: Ridgeon on the chair between it and the window]. Where
+have you been these thirty years?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. In general practice, until a few months ago. I've
+retired.
+
+RIDGEON. Well done, Loony! I wish I could afford to retire. Was
+your practice in London?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. No.
+
+RIDGEON. Fashionable coast practice, I suppose.
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. How could I afford to buy a fashionable practice? I
+hadnt a rap. I set up in a manufacturing town in the midlands in
+a little surgery at ten shillings a week.
+
+RIDGEON. And made your fortune?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Well, I'm pretty comfortable. I have a place in
+Hertfordshire besides our flat in town. If you ever want a quiet
+Saturday to Monday, I'll take you down in my motor at an hours
+notice.
+
+RIDGEON. Just rolling in money! I wish you rich g.p.'s would
+teach me how to make some. Whats the secret of it?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Oh, in my case the secret was simple enough, though
+I suppose I should have got into trouble if it had attracted any
+notice. And I'm afraid you'll think it rather infra dig.
+
+RIDGEON. Oh, I have an open mind. What was the secret?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Well, the secret was just two words.
+
+RIDGEON. Not Consultation Free, was it?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER [shocked] No, no. Really!
+
+RIDGEON [apologetic] Of course not. I was only joking.
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. My two words were simply Cure Guaranteed.
+
+RIDGEON [admiring] Cure Guaranteed!
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Guaranteed. After all, thats what everybody wants
+from a doctor, isnt it?
+
+RIDGEON. My dear loony, it was an inspiration. Was it on the
+brass plate?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. There was no brass plate. It was a shop window:
+red, you know, with black lettering. Doctor Leo Schutzmacher,
+L.R.C.P.M.R.C.S. Advice and medicine sixpence. Cure Guaranteed.
+
+RIDGEON. And the guarantee proved sound nine times out of ten,
+eh?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER [rather hurt at so moderate an estimate] Oh, much
+oftener than that. You see, most people get well all right if
+they are careful and you give them a little sensible advice. And
+the medicine really did them good. Parrish's Chemical Food:
+phosphates, you know. One tablespoonful to a twelve-ounce bottle
+of water: nothing better, no matter what the case is.
+
+RIDGEON. Redpenny: make a note of Parrish's Chemical Food.
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. I take it myself, you know, when I feel run down.
+Good-bye. You dont mind my calling, do you? Just to congratulate
+you.
+
+RIDGEON. Delighted, my dear Loony. Come to lunch on Saturday next
+week. Bring your motor and take me down to Hertford.
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. I will. We shall be delighted. Thank you. Good-bye.
+[He goes out with Ridgeon, who returns immediately].
+
+REDPENNY. Old Paddy Cullen was here before you were up, to be the
+first to congratulate you.
+
+RIDGEON. Indeed. Who taught you to speak of Sir Patrick Cullen as
+old Paddy Cullen, you young ruffian?
+
+REDPENNY. You never call him anything else.
+
+RIDGEON. Not now that I am Sir Colenso. Next thing, you fellows
+will be calling me old Colly Ridgeon.
+
+REDPENNY. We do, at St. Anne's.
+
+RIDGEON. Yach! Thats what makes the medical student the most
+disgusting figure in modern civilization. No veneration, no
+manners--no--
+
+EMMY [at the door, announcing]. Sir Patrick Cullen. [She
+retires].
+
+Sir Patrick Cullen is more than twenty years older than Ridgeon,
+not yet quite at the end of his tether, but near it and resigned
+to it. His name, his plain, downright, sometimes rather arid
+common sense, his large build and stature, the absence of those
+odd moments of ceremonial servility by which an old English
+doctor sometimes shews you what the status of the profession was
+in England in his youth, and an occasional turn of speech, are
+Irish; but he has lived all his life in England and is thoroughly
+acclimatized. His manner to Ridgeon, whom he likes, is whimsical
+and fatherly: to others he is a little gruff and uninviting, apt
+to substitute more or less expressive grunts for articulate
+speech, and generally indisposed, at his age, to make much social
+effort. He shakes Ridgeon's hand and beams at him cordially and
+jocularly.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well, young chap. Is your hat too small for you, eh?
+
+RIDGEON. Much too small. I owe it all to you.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Blarney, my boy. Thank you all the same. [He sits in
+one of the arm-chairs near the fireplace. Ridgeon sits on the
+couch]. Ive come to talk to you a bit. [To Redpenny] Young man:
+get out.
+
+REDPENNY. Certainly, Sir Patrick [He collects his papers and
+makes for the door].
+
+SIR PATRICK. Thank you. Thats a good lad. [Redpenny vanishes].
+They all put up with me, these young chaps, because I'm an old
+man, a real old man, not like you. Youre only beginning to give
+yourself the airs of age. Did you ever see a boy cultivating a
+moustache? Well, a middle-aged doctor cultivating a grey head is
+much the same sort of spectacle.
+
+RIDGEON. Good Lord! yes: I suppose so. And I thought that the
+days of my vanity were past. Tell me at what age does a man leave
+off being a fool?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Remember the Frenchman who asked his grandmother at
+what age we get free from the temptations of love. The old woman
+said she didn't know. [Ridgeon laughs]. Well, I make you the same
+answer. But the world's growing very interesting to me now,
+Colly.
+
+RIDGEON. You keep up your interest in science, do you?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Lord! yes. Modern science is a wonderful thing. Look
+at your great discovery! Look at all the great discoveries! Where
+are they leading to? Why, right back to my poor dear old father's
+ideas and discoveries. He's been dead now over forty years. Oh,
+it's very interesting.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, theres nothing like progress, is there?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Dont misunderstand me, my boy. I'm not belittling
+your discovery. Most discoveries are made regularly every fifteen
+years; and it's fully a hundred and fifty since yours was made
+last. Thats something to be proud of. But your discovery's not
+new. It's only inoculation. My father practised inoculation until
+it was made criminal in eighteen-forty. That broke the poor old
+man's heart, Colly: he died of it. And now it turns out that my
+father was right after all. Youve brought us back to inoculation.
+
+RIDGEON. I know nothing about smallpox. My line is tuberculosis
+and typhoid and plague. But of course the principle of all
+vaccines is the same.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Tuberculosis? M-m-m-m! Youve found out how to cure
+consumption, eh?
+
+RIDGEON. I believe so.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Ah yes. It's very interesting. What is it the old
+cardinal says in Browning's play? "I have known four and twenty
+leaders of revolt." Well, Ive known over thirty men that found
+out how to cure consumption. Why do people go on dying of it,
+Colly? Devilment, I suppose. There was my father's old friend
+George Boddington of Sutton Coldfield. He discovered the open-air
+cure in eighteen-forty. He was ruined and driven out of his
+practice for only opening the windows; and now we wont let a
+consumptive patient have as much as a roof over his head. Oh,
+it's very VERY interesting to an old man.
+
+RIDGEON. You old cynic, you dont believe a bit in my discovery.
+
+SIR PATRICK. No, no: I dont go quite so far as that, Colly. But
+still, you remember Jane Marsh?
+
+RIDGEON. Jane Marsh? No.
+
+SIR PATRICK. You dont!
+
+RIDGEON. No.
+
+SIR PATRICK. You mean to tell me you dont remember the woman with
+the tuberculosis ulcer on her arm?
+
+RIDGEON [enlightened] Oh, your washerwoman's daughter. Was her
+name Jane Marsh? I forgot.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Perhaps youve forgotten also that you undertook to
+cure her with Koch's tuberculin.
+
+RIDGEON. And instead of curing her, it rotted her arm right off.
+Yes: I remember. Poor Jane! However, she makes a good living out
+of that arm now by shewing it at medical lectures.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Still, that wasnt quite what you intended, was it?
+
+RIDGEON. I took my chance of it.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Jane did, you mean.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, it's always the patient who has to take the chance
+when an experiment is necessary. And we can find out nothing
+without experiment.
+
+SIR PATRICK. What did you find out from Jane's case?
+
+RIDGEON. I found out that the inoculation that ought to cure
+sometimes kills.
+
+SIR PATRICK. I could have told you that. Ive tried these modern
+inoculations a bit myself. Ive killed people with them; and Ive
+cured people with them; but I gave them up because I never could
+tell which I was going to do.
+
+RIDGEON [taking a pamphlet from a drawer in the writing-table and
+handing it to him] Read that the next time you have an hour to
+spare; and youll find out why.
+
+SIR PATRICK [grumbling and fumbling for his spectacles] Oh,
+bother your pamphlets. Whats the practice of it? [Looking at the
+pamphlet] Opsonin? What the devil is opsonin?
+
+RIDGEON. Opsonin is what you butter the disease germs with to
+make your white blood corpuscles eat them. [He sits down again on
+the couch].
+
+SIR PATRICK. Thats not new. Ive heard this notion that the white
+corpuscles--what is it that whats his name?--Metchnikoff--calls
+them?
+
+RIDGEON. Phagocytes.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Aye, phagocytes: yes, yes, yes. Well, I heard this
+theory that the phagocytes eat up the disease germs years ago:
+long before you came into fashion. Besides, they dont always eat
+them.
+
+RIDGEON. They do when you butter them with opsonin.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Gammon.
+
+RIDGEON. No: it's not gammon. What it comes to in practice is
+this. The phagocytes wont eat the microbes unless the microbes
+are nicely buttered for them. Well, the patient manufactures the
+butter for himself all right; but my discovery is that the
+manufacture of that butter, which I call opsonin, goes on in the
+system by ups and downs--Nature being always rhythmical, you
+know--and that what the inoculation does is to stimulate the ups
+or downs, as the case may be. If we had inoculated Jane Marsh
+when her butter factory was on the up-grade, we should have cured
+her arm. But we got in on the downgrade and lost her arm for her.
+I call the up-grade the positive phase and the down-grade the
+negative phase. Everything depends on your inoculating at the
+right moment. Inoculate when the patient is in the negative phase
+and you kill: inoculate when the patient is in the positive phase
+and you cure.
+
+SIR PATRICK. And pray how are you to know whether the patient is
+in the positive or the negative phase?
+
+RIDGEON. Send a drop of the patient's blood to the laboratory at
+St. Anne's; and in fifteen minutes I'll give you his opsonin
+index in figures. If the figure is one, inoculate and cure: if
+it's under point eight, inoculate and kill. Thats my discovery:
+the most important that has been made since Harvey discovered the
+circulation of the blood. My tuberculosis patients dont die now.
+
+SIR PATRICK. And mine do when my inoculation catches them in the
+negative phase, as you call it. Eh?
+
+RIDGEON. Precisely. To inject a vaccine into a patient without
+first testing his opsonin is as near murder as a respectable
+practitioner can get. If I wanted to kill s man I should kill him
+that way.
+
+EMMY [looking in] Will you see a lady that wants her husband's
+lungs cured?
+
+RIDGEON [impatiently] No. Havnt I told you I will see nobody?[To
+Sir Patrick] I live in a state of siege ever since it got about
+that I'm a magician who can cure consumption with a drop of
+serum. [To Emmy] Dont come to me again about people who have no
+appointments. I tell you I can see nobody.
+
+EMMY. Well, I'll tell her to wait a bit.
+
+RIDGEON [furious] Youll tell her I cant see her, and send her
+away: do you hear?
+
+EMMY [unmoved] Well, will you see Mr Cutler Walpole? He dont want
+a cure: he only wants to congratulate you.
+
+RIDGEON. Of course. Shew him up. [She turns to go]. Stop. [To Sir
+Patrick] I want two minutes more with you between ourselves. [To
+Emmy] Emmy: ask Mr. Walpole to wait just two minutes, while I
+finish a consultation.
+
+EMMY. Oh, he'll wait all right. He's talking to the poor lady.
+[She goes out].
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well? what is it?
+
+RIDGEON. Dont laugh at me. I want your advice.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Professional advice?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes. Theres something the matter with me. I dont know
+what it is.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Neither do I. I suppose youve been sounded.
+
+RIDGEON. Yes, of course. Theres nothing wrong with any of the
+organs: nothing special, anyhow. But I have a curious aching: I
+dont know where: I cant localize it. Sometimes I think it's my
+heart: sometimes I suspect my spine. It doesnt exactly hurt me;
+but it unsettles me completely. I feel that something is going to
+happen. And there are other symptoms. Scraps of tunes come into
+my head that seem to me very pretty, though theyre quite
+commonplace.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Do you hear voices?
+
+RIDGEON. No.
+
+SIR PATRICK. I'm glad of that. When my patients tell me that
+theyve made a greater discovery than Harvey, and that they hear
+voices, I lock them up.
+
+RIDGEON. You think I'm mad! Thats just the suspicion that has
+come across me once or twice. Tell me the truth: I can bear it.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Youre sure there are no voices?
+
+RIDGEON. Quite sure.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Then it's only foolishness.
+
+RIDGEON. Have you ever met anything like it before in your
+practice?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Oh, yes: often. It's very common between the ages of
+seventeen and twenty-two. It sometimes comes on again at forty or
+thereabouts. Youre a bachelor, you see. It's not serious--if
+youre careful.
+
+RIDGEON. About my food?
+
+SIR PATRICK. No: about your behavior. Theres nothing wrong with
+your spine; and theres nothing wrong with your heart; but theres
+something wrong with your common sense. Youre not going to die;
+but you may be going to make a fool of yourself. So be careful.
+
+RIDGEON. I sec you dont believe in my discovery. Well, sometimes
+I dont believe in it myself. Thank you all the same. Shall we
+have Walpole up?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Oh, have him up. [Ridgeon rings]. He's a clever
+operator, is Walpole, though he's only one of your chloroform
+surgeons. In my early days, you made your man drunk; and the
+porters and students held him down; and you had to set your teeth
+and finish the job fast. Nowadays you work at your ease; and the
+pain doesn't come until afterwards, when youve taken your
+cheque and rolled up your bag and left the house. I tell you,
+Colly, chloroform has done a lot of mischief. It's enabled every
+fool to be a surgeon.
+
+RIDGEON [to Emmy, who answers the bell] Shew Mr Walpole up.
+
+EMMY. He's talking to the lady.
+
+RIDGEON [exasperated] Did I not tell you--
+
+Emmy goes out without heeding him. He gives it up, with a shrug,
+and plants himself with his back to the console, leaning
+resignedly against it.
+
+SIR PATRICK. I know your Cutler Walpoles and their like. Theyve
+found out that a man's body's full of bits and scraps of old
+organs he has no mortal use for. Thanks to chloroform, you can
+cut half a dozen of them out without leaving him any the worse,
+except for the illness and the guineas it costs him. I knew the
+Walpoles well fifteen years ago. The father used to snip off the
+ends of people's uvulas for fifty guineas, and paint throats with
+caustic every day for a year at two guineas a time. His brother-
+in-law extirpated tonsils for two hundred guineas until he took
+up women's cases at double the fees. Cutler himself worked hard
+at anatomy to find something fresh to operate on; and at last he
+got hold of something he calls the nuciform sac, which he's made
+quite the fashion. People pay him five hundred guineas to cut it
+out. They might as well get their hair cut for all the difference
+it makes; but I suppose they feel important after it. You cant go
+out to dinner now without your neighbor bragging to you of some
+useless operation or other.
+
+EMMY [announcing] Mr Cutler Walpole. [She goes out].
+
+Cutler Walpole is an energetic, unhesitating man of forty, with a
+cleanly modelled face, very decisive and symmetrical about the
+shortish, salient, rather pretty nose, and the three trimly
+turned corners made by his chin and jaws. In comparison with
+Ridgeon's delicate broken lines, and Sir Patrick's softly rugged
+aged ones, his face looks machine-made and beeswaxed; but his
+scrutinizing, daring eyes give it life and force. He seems never
+at a loss, never in doubt: one feels that if he made a mistake he
+would make it thoroughly and firmly. He has neat, well-nourished
+hands, short arms, and is built for strength and compactness
+rather than for height. He is smartly dressed with a fancy
+waistcoat, a richly colored scarf secured by a handsome ring,
+ornaments on his watch chain, spats on his shoes, and a general
+air of the well-to-do sportsman about him. He goes straight
+across to Ridgeon and shakes hands with him.
+
+WALPOLE. My dear Ridgeon, best wishes! heartiest congratulations!
+You deserve it.
+
+RIDGEON. Thank you.
+
+WALPOLE. As a man, mind you. You deserve it as a man. The opsonin
+is simple rot, as any capable surgeon can tell you; but we're all
+delighted to see your personal qualities officially recognized.
+Sir Patrick: how are you? I sent you a paper lately about a
+little thing I invented: a new saw. For shoulder blades.
+
+SIR PATRICK [meditatively] Yes: I got it. It's a good saw: a
+useful, handy instrument.
+
+WALPOLE [confidently] I knew youd see its points.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Yes: I remember that saw sixty-five years ago.
+
+WALPOLE. What!
+
+SIR PATRICK. It was called a cabinetmaker's jimmy then.
+
+WALPOLE. Get out! Nonsense! Cabinetmaker be--
+
+RIDGEON. Never mind him, Walpole. He's jealous.
+
+WALPOLE. By the way, I hope I'm not disturbing you two in
+anything private.
+
+RIDGEON. No no. Sit down. I was only consulting him. I'm rather
+out of sorts. Overwork, I suppose.
+
+WALPOLE [swiftly] I know whats the matter with you. I can see it
+in your complexion. I can feel it in the grip of your hand.
+
+RIDGEON. What is it?
+
+WALPOLE. Blood-poisoning.
+
+RIDGEON. Blood-poisoning! Impossible.
+
+WALPOLE. I tell you, blood-poisoning. Ninety-five per cent of the
+human race suffer from chronic blood-poisoning, and die of it.
+It's as simple as A.B.C. Your nuciform sac is full of decaying
+matter--undigested food and waste products--rank ptomaines. Now
+you take my advice, Ridgeon. Let me cut it out for you. You'll be
+another man afterwards.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Dont you like him as he is?
+
+WALPOLE. No I dont. I dont like any man who hasnt a healthy
+circulation. I tell you this: in an intelligently governed
+country people wouldnt be allowed to go about with nuciform sacs,
+making themselves centres of infection. The operation ought to be
+compulsory: it's ten times more important than vaccination.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Have you had your own sac removed, may I ask?
+
+WALPOLE [triumphantly] I havnt got one. Look at me! Ive no
+symptoms. I'm as sound as a bell. About five per cent of the
+population havnt got any; and I'm one of the five per cent. I'll
+give you an instance. You know Mrs Jack Foljambe: the smart Mrs
+Foljambe? I operated at Easter on her sister-in-law, Lady Gorran,
+and found she had the biggest sac I ever saw: it held about two
+ounces. Well, Mrs. Foljambe had the right spirit--the genuine
+hygienic instinct. She couldnt stand her sister-in-law being a
+clean, sound woman, and she simply a whited sepulchre. So she
+insisted on my operating on her, too. And by George, sir, she
+hadnt any sac at all. Not a trace! Not a rudiment!! I was so
+taken aback--so interested, that I forgot to take the sponges
+out, and was stitching them up inside her when the nurse
+missed them.  Somehow, I'd made sure she'd have an exceptionally
+large one. [He sits down on the couch, squaring his shoulders and
+shooting his hands out of his cuffs as he sets his knuckles
+akimbo].
+
+EMMY [looking in] Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington.
+
+A long and expectant pause follows this announcement. All look to
+the door; but there is no Sir Ralph.
+
+RIDGEON [at last] Were is he?
+
+EMMY [looking back] Drat him, I thought he was following me. He's
+stayed down to talk to that lady.
+
+RIDGEON [exploding] I told you to tell that lady-- [Emmy
+vanishes].
+
+WALPOLE [jumping up again] Oh, by the way, Ridgeon, that reminds
+me. Ive been talking to that poor girl. It's her husband; and she
+thinks it's a case of consumption: the usual wrong diagnosis:
+these damned general practitioners ought never to be allowed to
+touch a patient except under the orders of a consultant. She's
+been describing his symptoms to me; and the case is as plain as a
+pikestaff: bad blood-poisoning. Now she's poor. She cant afford
+to have him operated on. Well, you send him to me: I'll do it for
+nothing. Theres room for him in my nursing home. I'll put him
+straight, and feed him up and make him happy. I like making
+people happy. [He goes to the chair near the window].
+
+EMMY [looking in] Here he is.
+
+Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington wafts himself into the room. He is
+a tall man, with a head like a tall and slender egg. He has been
+in his time a slender man; but now, in his sixth decade, his
+waistcoat has filled out somewhat. His fair eyebrows arch good-
+naturedly and uncritically. He has a most musical voice; his
+speech is a perpetual anthem; and he never tires of the sound of
+it. He radiates an enormous self-satisfaction, cheering,
+reassuring, healing by the mere incompatibility of disease or
+anxiety with his welcome presence. Even broken bones, it is said,
+have been known to unite at the sound of his voice: he is a born
+healer, as independent of mere treatment and skill as any
+Christian scientist. When he expands into oratory or scientific
+exposition, he is as energetic as Walpole; but it is with a
+bland, voluminous, atmospheric energy, which envelops its subject
+and its audience, and makes interruption or inattention
+impossible, and imposes veneration and credulity on all but the
+strongest minds. He is known in the medical world as B. B.; and
+the envy roused by his success in practice is softened by the
+conviction that he is, scientifically considered, a colossal
+humbug: the fact being that, though he knows just as much (and
+just as little) as his contemporaries, the qualifications that
+pass muster in common men reveal their weakness when hung on his
+egregious personality.
+
+B. B. Aha! Sir Colenso. Sir Colenso, eh? Welcome to the order of
+knighthood.
+
+RIDGEON [shaking hands] Thank you, B. B.
+
+B. B. What! Sir Patrick! And how are we to-day? a little chilly?
+a little stiff? but hale and still the cleverest of us all. [Sir
+Patrick grunts]. What! Walpole! the absent-minded beggar: eh?
+
+WALPOLE. What does that mean?
+
+B. B. Have you forgotten the lovely opera singer I sent you to
+have that growth taken off her vocal cords?
+
+WALPOLE [springing to his feet] Great heavens, man, you dont mean
+to say you sent her for a throat operation!
+
+B. B. [archly] Aha! Ha ha! Aha! [trilling like a lark as he
+shakes his finger at Walpole]. You removed her nuciform sac.
+Well, well! force of habit! force of habit! Never mind,
+ne-e-e-ver mind. She got back her voice after it, and thinks you
+the greatest surgeon alive; and so you are, so you are, so you
+are.
+
+WALPOLE [in a tragic whisper, intensely serious] Blood-poisoning.
+I see. I see. [He sits down again].
+
+SIR PATRICK. And how is a certain distinguished family getting on
+under your care, Sir Ralph?
+
+B. B. Our friend Ridgeon will be gratified to hear that I have
+tried his opsonin treatment on little Prince Henry with complete
+success.
+
+RIDGEON [startled and anxious] But how--
+
+B. B. [continuing] I suspected typhoid: the head gardener's boy
+had it; so I just called at St Anne's one day and got a tube of
+your very excellent serum. You were out, unfortunately.
+
+RIDGEON. I hope they explained to you carefully--
+
+B. B. [waving away the absurd suggestion] Lord bless you, my dear
+fellow, I didnt need any explanations. I'd left my wife in the
+carriage at the door; and I'd no time to be taught my business by
+your young chaps. I know all about it. Ive handled these anti-
+toxins ever since they first came out.
+
+RIDGEDN. But theyre not anti-toxins; and theyre dangerous unless
+you use them at the right time.
+
+B. B. Of course they are. Everything is dangerous unless you take
+it at the right time. An apple at breakfast does you good: an
+apple at bedtime upsets you for a week. There are only two rules
+for anti-toxins. First, dont be afraid of them: second, inject
+them a quarter of an hour before meals, three times a day.
+
+RIDGEON [appalled] Great heavens, B. B., no, no, no.
+
+B. B. [sweeping on irresistibly] Yes, yes, yes, Colly. The proof
+of the pudding is in the eating, you know. It was an immense
+success. It acted like magic on the little prince. Up went his
+temperature; off to bed I packed him; and in a week he was all
+right again, and absolutely immune from typhoid for the rest of
+his life. The family were very nice about it: their gratitude was
+quite touching; but I said they owed it all to you, Ridgeon; and
+I am glad to think that your knighthood is the result.
+
+RIDGEON. I am deeply obliged to you. [Overcome, he sits down on
+the chair near the couch].
+
+B. B. Not at all, not at all. Your own merit. Come! come! come!
+dont give way.
+
+RIDGEON. It's nothing. I was a little giddy just now. Overwork, I
+suppose.
+
+WALPOLE. Blood-poisoning.
+
+B. B. Overwork! Theres no such thing. I do the work of ten men.
+Am I giddy? No. NO. If youre not well, you have a disease. It may
+be a slight one; but it's a disease. And what is a disease? The
+lodgment in the system of a pathogenic germ, and the
+multiplication of that germ. What is the remedy? A very simple
+one. Find the germ and kill it.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Suppose theres no germ?
+
+B. B. Impossible, Sir Patrick: there must be a germ: else how
+could the patient be ill?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Can you shew me the germ of overwork?
+
+B. B. No; but why? Why? Because, my dear Sir Patrick, though the
+germ is there, it's invisible. Nature has given it no danger
+signal for us. These germs--these bacilli--are translucent
+bodies, like glass, like water. To make them visible you must
+stain them. Well, my dear Paddy, do what you will, some of them
+wont stain. They wont take cochineal: they wont take methylene
+blue; they wont take gentian violet: they wont take any coloring
+matter. Consequently, though we know, as scientific men, that
+they exist, we cannot see them. But can you disprove their
+existence? Can you conceive the disease existing without them?
+Can you, for instance, shew me a case of diphtheria without the
+bacillus?
+
+SIR PATRICK. No; but I'll shew you the same bacillus, without the
+disease, in your own throat.
+
+B. B. No, not the same, Sir Patrick. It is an entirely different
+bacillus; only the two are, unfortunately, so exactly alike that
+you cannot see the difference. You must understand, my dear Sir
+Patrick, that every one of these interesting little creatures has
+an imitator. Just as men imitate each other, germs imitate each
+other. There is the genuine diphtheria bacillus discovered by
+Loeffler; and there is the pseudo-bacillus, exactly like it,
+which you could find, as you say, in my own throat.
+
+         SIR PATRICK. And how do you tell one from the other?
+
+B. B. Well, obviously, if the bacillus is the genuine Loeffler,
+you have diphtheria; and if it's the pseudobacillus, youre quite
+well. Nothing simpler. Science is always simple and always
+profound. It is only the half-truths that are dangerous. Ignorant
+faddists pick up some superficial information about germs; and
+they write to the papers and try to discredit science. They dupe
+and mislead many honest and worthy people. But science has a
+perfect answer to them on every point.
+
+         A little learning is a dangerous thing;
+         Drink deep; or taste not the Pierian spring.
+
+I mean no disrespect to your generation, Sir Patrick: some of you
+old stagers did marvels through sheer professional intuition and
+clinical experience; but when I think of the average men of your
+day, ignorantly bleeding and cupping and purging, and scattering
+germs over their patients from their clothes and instruments, and
+contrast all that with the scientific certainty and simplicity of
+my treatment of the little prince the other day, I cant help
+being proud of my own generation: the men who were trained on the
+germ theory, the veterans of the great struggle over Evolution in
+the seventies. We may have our faults; but at least we are men of
+science. That is why I am taking up your treatment, Ridgeon, and
+pushing it. It's scientific. [He sits down on the chair near the
+couch].
+
+EMMY [at the door, announcing] Dr Blenkinsop.
+
+Dr Blenkinsop is a very different case from the others. He is
+clearly not a prosperous man. He is flabby and shabby, cheaply
+fed and cheaply clothed. He has the lines made by a conscience
+between his eyes, and the lines made by continual money worries
+all over his face, cut all the deeper as he has seen better days,
+and hails his well-to-do colleagues as their contemporary and old
+hospital friend, though even in this he has to struggle with the
+diffidence of poverty and relegation to the poorer middle class.
+
+RIDGEON. How are you, Blenkinsop?
+
+BLENKINSOP. Ive come to offer my humble congratulations. Oh dear!
+all the great guns are before me.
+
+B. B. [patronizing, but charming] How d'ye do Blenkinsop? How
+d'ye do?
+
+BLENKINSOP. And Sir Patrick, too [Sir Patrick grunts].
+
+RIDGEON. Youve met Walpole, of course?
+
+WALPOLE. How d'ye do?
+
+BLENKINSOP. It's the first time Ive had that honor. In my poor
+little practice there are no chances of meeting you great men. I
+know nobody but the St Anne's men of my own day. [To Ridgeon] And
+so youre Sir Colenso. How does it feel?
+
+RIDGEON. Foolish at first. Dont take any notice of it.
+
+BLENKINSOP. I'm ashamed to say I havnt a notion what your great
+discovery is; but I congratulate you all the same for the sake of
+old times.
+
+B. B. [shocked] But, my dear Blenkinsop, you used to be rather
+keen on science.
+
+BLENKINSOP. Ah, I used to be a lot of things. I used to have two
+or three decent suits of clothes, and flannels to go up the river
+on Sundays. Look at me now: this is my best; and it must last
+till Christmas. What can I do? Ive never opened a book since I
+was qualified thirty years ago. I used to read the medical papers
+at first; but you know how soon a man drops that; besides, I cant
+afford them; and what are they after all but trade papers, full
+of advertisements? Ive forgotten all my science: whats the use of
+my pretending I havnt? But I have great experience: clinical
+experience; and bedside experience is the main thing, isn't it?
+
+B. B. No doubt; always provided, mind you, that you have a sound
+scientific theory to correlate your observations at the bedside.
+Mere experience by itself is nothing. If I take my dog to the
+bedside with me, he sees what I see. But he learns nothing from
+it. Why? Because he's not a scientific dog.
+
+WALPOLE. It amuses me to hear you physicians and general
+practitioners talking about clinical experience. What do you see
+at the bedside but the outside of the patient? Well: it isnt his
+outside thats wrong, except perhaps in skin cases. What you want
+is a daily familiarity with people's insides; and that you can
+only get at the operating table. I know what I'm talking about:
+Ive been a surgeon and a consultant for twenty years; and Ive
+never known a general practitioner right in his diagnosis yet.
+Bring them a perfectly simple case; and they diagnose cancer, and
+arthritis, and appendicitis, and every other itis, when any
+really experienced surgeon can see that it's a plain case of
+blood-poisoning.
+
+BLENKINSOP. Ah, it's easy for you gentlemen to talk; but what
+would you say if you had my practice? Except for the workmen's
+clubs, my patients are all clerks and shopmen. They darent be
+ill: they cant afford it. And when they break down, what can I do
+for them? You can send your people to St Moritz or to Egypt, or
+recommend horse exercise or motoring or champagne jelly or
+complete change and rest for six months. I might as well order my
+people a slice of the moon. And the worst of it is, I'm too poor
+to keep well myself on the cooking I have to put up with. Ive
+such a wretched digestion; and I look it. How am I to inspire
+confidence? [He sits disconsolately on the couch].
+
+RIDGEON [restlessly] Dont, Blenkinsop: its too painful. The most
+tragic thing in the world is a sick doctor.
+
+WALPOLE. Yes, by George: its like a bald-headed man trying to
+sell a hair restorer. Thank God I'm a surgeon!
+
+B. B. [sunnily] I am never sick. Never had a day's illness in my
+life. Thats what enables me to sympathize with my patients.
+
+WALPOLE [interested] What! youre never ill?
+
+B. B. Never.
+
+WALPOLE. Thats interesting. I believe you have no nuciform sac.
+If you ever do feel at all queer, I should very much like to have
+a look.
+
+B. B. Thank you, my dear fellow; but I'm too busy just now.
+
+RIDGEON. I was just telling them when you came in, Blenkinsop,
+that I have worked myself out of sorts.
+
+BLENKINSOP. Well, it seems presumptuous of me to offer a
+prescription to a great man like you; but still I have great
+experience; and if I might recommend a pound of ripe greengages
+every day half an hour before lunch, I'm sure youd find a
+benefit. Theyre very cheap.
+
+RIDGEON. What do you say to that B. B.?
+
+B. B. [encouragingly] Very sensible, Blenkinsop: very sensible
+indeed. I'm delighted to see that you disapprove of drugs.
+
+SIR PATRICK [grunts]!
+
+B. B. [archly] Aha! Haha! Did I hear from the fireside armchair
+the bow-wow of the old school defending its drugs? Ah, believe
+me, Paddy, the world would be healthier if every chemist's shop
+in England were demolished. Look at the papers! full of
+scandalous advertisements of patent medicines! a huge commercial
+system of quackery and poison. Well, whose fault is it? Ours.
+I say, ours. We set the example. We spread the superstition. We
+taught the people to believe in bottles of doctor's stuff; and
+now they buy it at the stores instead of consulting a medical
+man.
+
+WALPOLE. Quite true. Ive not prescribed a drug for the last
+fifteen years.
+
+B. B. Drugs can only repress symptoms: they cannot eradicate
+disease. The true remedy for all diseases is Nature's remedy.
+Nature and Science are at one, Sir Patrick, believe me; though
+you were taught differently. Nature has provided, in the white
+corpuscles as you call them--in the phagocytes as we call them--a
+natural means of devouring and destroying all disease germs.
+There is at bottom only one genuinely scientific treatment for
+all diseases, and that is to stimulate the phagocytes. Stimulate
+the phagocytes. Drugs are a delusion. Find the germ of the
+disease; prepare from it a suitable anti-toxin; inject it three
+times a day quarter of an hour before meals; and what is the
+result? The phagocytes are stimulated; they devour the disease;
+and the patient recovers--unless, of course, he's too far gone.
+That, I take it, is the essence of Ridgeon's discovery.
+
+SIR PATRICK [dreamily] As I sit here, I seem to hear my poor old
+father talking again.
+
+B. B. [rising in incredulous amazement] Your father! But, Lord
+bless my soul, Paddy, your father must have been an older man
+than you.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Word for word almost, he said what you say. No more
+drugs. Nothing but inoculation.
+
+B. B. [almost contemptuously] Inoculation! Do you mean smallpox
+inoculation?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Yes. In the privacy of our family circle, sir, my
+father used to declare his belief that smallpox inoculation was
+good, not only for smallpox, but for all fevers.
+
+B. B. [suddenly rising to the new idea with immense interest and
+excitement] What! Ridgeon: did you hear that? Sir Patrick: I am
+more struck by what you have just told me than I can well
+express. Your father, sir, anticipated a discovery of my own.
+Listen, Walpole. Blenkinsop: attend one moment. You will all be
+intensely interested in this. I was put on the track by accident.
+I had a typhoid case and a tetanus case side by side in the
+hospital: a beadle and a city missionary. Think of what that
+meant for them, poor fellows! Can a beadle be dignified with
+typhoid? Can a missionary be eloquent with lockjaw? No. NO. Well,
+I got some typhoid anti-toxin from Ridgeon and a tube of
+Muldooley's anti-tetanus serum. But the missionary jerked all my
+things off the table in one of his paroxysms; and in replacing
+them I put Ridgeon's tube where Muldooley's ought to have been.
+The consequence was that I inoculated the typhoid case for
+tetanus and the tetanus case for typhoid. [The doctors look
+greatly concerned. B. B., undamped, smiles triumphantly]. Well,
+they recovered. THEY RECOVERED. Except for a touch of St Vitus's
+dance the missionary's as well to-day as ever; and the beadle's
+ten times the man he was.
+
+BLENKINSOP. Ive known things like that happen. They cant be
+explained.
+
+B. B. [severely] Blenkinsop: there is nothing that cannot be
+explained by science. What did I do? Did I fold my hands
+helplessly and say that the case could not be explained? By no
+means. I sat down and used my brains. I thought the case out on
+scientific principles. I asked myself why didnt the missionary
+die of typhoid on top of tetanus, and the beadle of tetanus on
+top of typhoid? Theres a problem for you, Ridgeon. Think, Sir
+Patrick. Reflect, Blenkinsop. Look at it without prejudice,
+Walpole. What is the real work of the anti-toxin? Simply to
+stimulate the phagocytes. Very well. But so long as you stimulate
+the phagocytes, what does it matter which particular sort of
+serum you use for the purpose? Haha! Eh? Do you see? Do you grasp
+it? Ever since that Ive used all sorts of anti-toxins absolutely
+indiscriminately, with perfectly satisfactory results. I
+inoculated the little prince with your stuff, Ridgeon, because I
+wanted to give you a lift; but two years ago I tried the
+experiment of treating a scarlet fever case with a sample of
+hydrophobia serum from the Pasteur Institute, and it answered
+capitally. It stimulated the phagocytes; and the phagocytes did
+the rest. That is why Sir Patrick's father found that inoculation
+cured all fevers. It stimulated the phagocytes. [He throws
+himself into his chair, exhausted with the triumph of his
+demonstration, and beams magnificently on them].
+
+EMMY [looking in] Mr Walpole: your motor's come for you; and it's
+frightening Sir Patrick's horses; so come along quick.
+
+WALPOLE [rising] Good-bye, Ridgeon.
+
+RIDGEON. Good-bye; and many thanks.
+
+B. B. You see my point, Walpole?
+
+EMMY. He cant wait, Sir Ralph. The carriage will be into the area
+if he dont come.
+
+WALPOLE. I'm coming. [To B. B.] Theres nothing in your point:
+phagocytosis is pure rot: the cases are all blood-poisoning; and
+the knife is the real remedy. Bye-bye, Sir Paddy. Happy to have
+met you, Mr. Blenkinsop. Now, Emmy. [He goes out, followed by
+Emmy].
+
+B. B. [sadly] Walpole has no intellect. A mere surgeon. Wonderful
+operator; but, after all, what is operating? Only manual labor.
+Brain--BRAIN remains master of the situation. The nuciform sac is
+utter nonsense: theres no such organ. It's a mere accidental kink
+in the membrane, occurring in perhaps two-and-a-half per cent of
+the population. Of course I'm glad for Walpole's sake that the
+operation is fashionable; for he's a dear good fellow; and after
+all, as I always tell people, the operation will do them no harm:
+indeed, Ive known the nervous shake-up and the fortnight in bed
+do people a lot of good after a hard London season; but still
+it's a shocking fraud. [Rising] Well, I must be toddling. Good-
+bye, Paddy [Sir Patrick grunts] good-bye, goodbye. Good-bye, my
+dear Blenkinsop, good-bye! Goodbye, Ridgeon. Dont fret about your
+health: you know what to do: if your liver is sluggish, a little
+mercury never does any harm. If you feel restless, try bromide,
+If that doesnt answer, a stimulant, you know: a little phosphorus
+and strychnine. If you cant sleep, trional, trional, trion--
+
+SIR PATRICK [drily] But no drugs, Colly, remember that.
+
+B. B. [firmly] Certainly not. Quite right, Sir Patrick. As
+temporary expedients, of course; but as treatment, no, No. Keep
+away from the chemist's shop, my dear Ridgeon, whatever you do.
+
+RIDGEON [going to the door with him] I will. And thank you for
+the knighthood. Good-bye.
+
+B. B. [stopping at the door, with the beam in his eye twinkling a
+little] By the way, who's your patient?
+
+RIDGEON. Who?
+
+B. B. Downstairs. Charming woman. Tuberculous husband.
+
+RIDGEON. Is she there still?
+
+Emmy [looking in] Come on, Sir Ralph: your wife's  waiting in the
+carriage.
+
+B. B. [suddenly sobered] Oh! Good-bye. [He goes out almost
+precipitately].
+
+RIDGEON. Emmy: is that woman there still? If so, tell her once
+for all that I cant and wont see her. Do you hear?
+
+EMMY. Oh, she aint in a hurry: she doesnt mind how long she
+waits. [She goes out].
+
+BLENKINSOP. I must be off, too: every half-hour I spend away from
+my work costs me eighteenpence. Good-bye, Sir Patrick.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Good-bye. Good-bye.
+
+RIDGEON. Come to lunch with me some day this week.
+
+BLENKINSOP. I cant afford it, dear boy; and it would put me off
+my own food for a week. Thank you all the same.
+
+RIDGEON [uneasy at Blenkinsop's poverty] Can I do nothing for
+you?
+
+BLENKINSOP. Well, if you have an old frock-coat to spare? you see
+what would be an old one for you would be a new one for me; so
+remember the next time you turn out your wardrobe. Good-bye. [He
+hurries out].
+
+RIDGEON [looking after him] Poor chap! [Turning to Sir Patrick]
+So thats why they made me a knight! And thats the medical
+profession!
+
+SIR PATRICK. And a very good profession, too, my lad. When you
+know as much as I know of the ignorance and superstition of the
+patients, youll wonder that we're half as good as we are.
+
+RIDGEON. We're not a profession: we're a conspiracy.
+
+SIR PATRICK. All professions are conspiracies against the laity.
+And we cant all be geniuses like you. Every fool can get ill; but
+every fool cant be a good doctor: there are not enough good ones
+to go round. And for all you know, Bloomfield Bonington kills
+less people than you do.
+
+RIDGEON. Oh, very likely. But he really ought to know the
+difference between a vaccine and an anti-toxin. Stimulate the
+phagocytes! The vaccine doesnt affect the phagocytes at all. He's
+all wrong: hopelessly, dangerously wrong. To put a tube of serum
+into his hands is murder: simple murder.
+
+EMMY [returning] Now, Sir Patrick. How long more are you going to
+keep them horses standing in the draught?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Whats that to you, you old catamaran?
+
+EMMY. Come, come, now! none of your temper to me. And it's time
+for Colly to get to his work.
+
+RIDGEON. Behave yourself, Emmy. Get out.
+
+EMMY. Oh, I learnt how to behave myself before I learnt you to do
+it. I know what doctors are: sitting talking together about
+themselves when they ought to be with their poor patients. And I
+know what horses are, Sir Patrick. I was brought up in the
+country. Now be good; and come along.
+
+SIR PATRICK [rising] Very well, very well, very well. Good-bye,
+Colly. [He pats Ridgeon on the shoulder and goes out, turning for
+a moment at the door to look meditatively at Emmy and say, with
+grave conviction] You are an ugly old devil, and no mistake.
+
+EMMY [highly indignant, calling after him] Youre no beauty
+yourself. [To Ridgeon, much flustered] Theyve no manners: they
+think they can say what they like to me; and you set them on, you
+do. I'll teach them their places. Here now: are you going to see
+that poor thing or are you not?
+
+RIDGEON. I tell you for the fiftieth time I wont see anybody.
+Send her away.
+
+EMMY. Oh, I'm tired of being told to send her away. What good
+will that do her?
+
+RIDGEON. Must I get angry with you, Emmy?
+
+EMMY [coaxing] Come now: just see her for a minute to please me:
+theres a good boy. She's given me half-a-crown. She thinks it's
+life and death to her husband for her to see you.
+
+RIDGEON. Values her husband's life at half-a-crown!
+
+EMMY. Well, it's all she can afford, poor lamb. Them others think
+nothing of half-a-sovereign just to talk about themselves to you,
+the sluts! Besides, she'll put you in a good temper for the day,
+because it's a good deed to see her; and she's the sort that gets
+round you.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, she hasnt done so badly. For half-a-crown she's
+had a consultation with Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington and Cutler
+Walpole. Thats six guineas' worth to start with. I dare say she's
+consulted Blenkinsop too: thats another eighteenpence.
+
+EMMY. Then youll see her for me, wont you?
+
+RIDGEON. Oh, send her up and be hanged. [Emmy trots out,
+satisfied. Ridgeon calls] Redpenny!
+
+REDPENNY [appearing at the door] What is it?
+
+RIDGEON. Theres a patient coming up. If she hasnt gone in five
+minutes, come in with an urgent call from the hospital for me.
+You understand: she's to have a strong hint to go.
+
+REDPENNY. Right O! [He vanishes].
+
+Ridgeon goes to the glass, and arranges his tie a little.
+
+EMMY [announcing] Mrs Doobidad [Ridgeon leaves the glass and goes
+to the writing-table].
+
+The lady comes in. Emmy goes out and shuts the door. Ridgeon, who
+has put on an impenetrable and rather distant professional
+manner, turns to the lady, and invites her, by a gesture, to sit
+down on the couch.
+
+Mrs Dubedat is beyond all demur an arrestingly good-looking young
+woman. She has something of the grace and romance of a wild
+creature, with a good deal of the elegance and dignity of a fine
+lady. Ridgeon, who is extremely susceptible to the beauty of
+women, instinctively assumes the defensive at once, and hardens
+his manner still more. He has an impression that she is very well
+dressed, but she has a figure on which any dress would look well,
+and carries herself with the unaffected distinction of a woman
+who has never in her life suffered from those doubts and fears as
+to her social position which spoil the manners of most middling
+people. She is tall, slender, and strong; has dark hair, dressed
+so as to look like hair and not like a bird's nest or a
+pantaloon's wig (fashion wavering just then between these two
+models); has unexpectedly narrow, subtle, dark-fringed eyes that
+alter her expression disturbingly when she is excited and flashes
+them wide open; is softly impetuous in her speech and swift in
+her movements; and is just now in mortal anxiety. She carries a
+portfolio.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [in low urgent tones] Doctor--
+
+RIDGEON [curtly] Wait. Before you begin, let me tell you at once
+that I can do nothing for you. My hands are full. I sent you that
+message by my old servant. You would not take that answer.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. How could I?
+
+RIDGEON. You bribed her.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I--
+
+RIDGEON. That doesnt matter. She coaxed me to see you. Well, you
+must take it from me now that with all the good will in the
+world, I cannot undertake another case.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Doctor: you must save my husband. You must. When I
+explain to you, you will see that you must. It is not an ordinary
+case, not like any other case. He is not like anybody else in the
+world: oh, believe me, he is not. I can prove it to you:
+[fingering her portfolio] I have brought some things to shew you.
+And you can save him: the papers say you can.
+
+RIDGEON. Whats the matter? Tuberculosis?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes. His left lung--
+
+RIDGEON Yes: you neednt tell me about that.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. You can cure him, if only you will. It is true that
+you can, isnt it? [In great distress] Oh, tell me, please.
+
+RIDGEON [warningly] You are going to be quiet and self-possessed,
+arnt you?
+
+MRs DUBEDAT. Yes. I beg your pardon. I know I shouldnt--[Giving
+way again] Oh, please, say that you can; and then I shall be all
+right.
+
+RIDGEON [huffily] I am not a curemonger: if you want cures, you
+must go to the people who sell them. [Recovering himself, ashamed
+of the tone of his own voice] But I have at the hospital ten
+tuberculous patients whose lives I believe I can save.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Thank God!
+
+RIDGEON. Wait a moment. Try to think of those ten patients as ten
+shipwrecked men on a raft--a raft that is barely large enough to
+save them--that will not support one more. Another head bobs up
+through the waves at the side. Another man begs to be taken
+aboard. He implores the captain of the raft to save him. But the
+captain can only do that by pushing one of his ten off the raft
+and drowning him to make room for the new comer. That is what you
+are asking me to do.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. But how can that be? I dont understand. Surely--
+
+RIDGEON. You must take my word for it that it is so. My
+laboratory, my staff, and myself are working at full pressure. We
+are doing our utmost. The treatment is a new one. It takes time,
+means, and skill; and there is not enough for another case. Our
+ten cases are already chosen cases. Do you understand what I mean
+by chosen?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Chosen. No: I cant understand.
+
+RIDGEON [sternly] You must understand. Youve got to understand
+and to face it. In every single one of those ten cases I have had
+to consider, not only whether the man could be saved, but whether
+he was worth saving. There were fifty cases to choose from; and
+forty had to be condemned to death. Some of the forty had young
+wives and helpless children. If the hardness of their cases could
+have saved them they would have been saved ten times over. Ive no
+doubt your case is a hard one: I can see the tears in your eyes
+[she hastily wipes her eyes]: I know that you have a torrent of
+entreaties ready for me the moment I stop speaking; but it's no
+use. You must go to another doctor.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. But can you give me the name of another doctor who
+understands your secret?
+
+RIDGEON. I have no secret: I am not a quack.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I beg your pardon: I didnt mean to say anything
+wrong. I dont understand how to speak to you. Oh, pray dont be
+offended.
+
+RIDGEON [again a little ashamed] There! there! never mind. [He
+relaxes and sits down]. After all, I'm talking nonsense: I
+daresay I AM a quack, a quack with a qualification. But my
+discovery is not patented.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Then can any doctor cure my husband? Oh, why dont
+they do it? I have tried so many: I have spent so much. If only
+you would give me the name of another doctor.
+
+RIDGEON. Every man in this street is a doctor. But outside myself
+and the handful of men I am training at St Anne's, there is
+nobody as yet who has mastered the opsonin treatment. And we are
+full up? I'm sorry; but that is all I can say. [Rising] Good
+morning.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [suddenly and desperately taking some drawings from
+her portfolio] Doctor: look at these. You understand drawings:
+you have good ones in your waiting-room. Look at them. They are
+his work.
+
+RIDGEON. It's no use my looking. [He looks, all the same] Hallo!
+[He takes one to the window and studies it]. Yes: this is the
+real thing. Yes, yes. [He looks at another and returns to her].
+These are very clever. Theyre unfinished, arnt they?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. He gets tired so soon. But you see, dont you, what a
+genius he is? You see that he is worth saving. Oh, doctor, I
+married him just to help him to begin: I had money enough to tide
+him over the hard years at the beginning--to enable him to follow
+his inspiration until his genius was recognized. And I was useful
+to him as a model: his drawings of me sold quite quickly.
+
+RIDGEON. Have you got one?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [producing another] Only this one. It was the first.
+
+RIDGEON [devouring it with his eyes] Thats a wonderful drawing.
+Why is it called Jennifer?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. My name is Jennifer.
+
+RIDGEON. A strange name.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Not in Cornwall. I am Cornish. It's only what you
+call Guinevere.
+
+RIDGEON [repeating the  names with a certain pleasure in them]
+Guinevere. Jennifer. [Looking again at the drawing] Yes: it's
+really a wonderful drawing. Excuse me; but may I ask is it for
+sale? I'll buy it.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, take it. It's my own: he gave it to me. Take it.
+Take them all. Take everything; ask anything; but save him. You
+can: you will: you must.
+
+REDPENNY [entering with every sign of alarm] Theyve just
+telephoned from the hospital that youre to come instantly--a
+patient on the point of death. The carriage is waiting.
+
+RIDGEON [intolerantly] Oh, nonsense: get out. [Greatly annoyed]
+What do you mean by interrupting me like this?
+
+REDPENNY. But--
+
+RIDGEON. Chut! cant you see I'm engaged? Be off.
+
+Redpenny, bewildered, vanishes.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [rising] Doctor: one instant only before you go--
+
+RIDGEON. Sit down. It's nothing.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. But the patient. He said he was dying.
+
+RIDGEON. Oh, he's dead by this time. Never mind. Sit down.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [sitting down and breaking down] Oh, you none of you
+care. You see people die every day.
+
+RIDGEON [petting her] Nonsense! it's nothing: I told him to come
+in and say that. I thought I should want to get rid of you.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [shocked at the falsehood] Oh!
+'
+RIDGEON [continuing] Dont look so bewildered: theres nobody
+dying.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. My husband is.
+
+RIDGEON [pulling himself together] Ah, yes: I had forgotten your
+husband. Mrs Dubedat: you are asking me to do a very serious
+thing?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I am asking you to save the life of a great man.
+
+RIDGEON. You are asking me to kill another man for his sake; for
+as surely as I undertake another case, I shall have to hand back
+one of the old ones to the ordinary treatment. Well, I dont
+shrink from that. I have had to do it before; and I will do it
+again if you can convince me that his life is more important than
+the worst life I am now saving. But you must convince me first.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. He made those drawings; and they are not the best--
+nothing like the best; only I did not bring the really best: so
+few people like them. He is twenty-three: his whole life is
+before him. Wont you let me bring him to you? wont you speak to
+him? wont you see for yourself?
+
+RIDGEON. Is he well enough to come to a dinner at the Star and
+Garter at Richmond?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh yes. Why?
+
+RIDGEON. I'll tell you. I am inviting all my old friends to a
+dinner to celebrate my knighthood--youve seen about it in the
+papers, havnt you?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, oh yes. That was how I found out about you.
+
+RIDGEON. It will be a doctors' dinner; and it was to have been a
+bachelors' dinner. I'm a bachelor. Now if you will entertain for
+me, and bring your husband, he will meet me; and he will meet
+some of the most eminent men in my profession: Sir Patrick
+Cullen, Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington, Cutler Walpole, and
+others. I can put the case to them; and your husband will have to
+stand or fall by what we think of him. Will you come?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, of course I will come. Oh, thank you, thank
+you. And may I bring some of his drawings--the really good ones?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes. I will let you know the date in the course of to-
+morrow. Leave me your address.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Thank you again and again. You have made me so
+happy: I know you will admire him and like him. This is my
+address. [She gives him her card].
+
+RIDGEON. Thank you. [He rings].
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [embarrassed] May I--is there--should I--I mean--[she
+blushes and stops in confusion].
+
+RIDGEON. Whats the matter?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Your fee for this consultation?
+
+RIDGEON. Oh, I forgot that. Shall we say a beautiful drawing of
+his favorite model for the whole treatment, including the cure?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. You are very generous. Thank you. I know you will
+cure him. Good-bye.
+
+RIDGEON. I will. Good-bye. [They shake hands]. By the way, you
+know, dont you, that tuberculosis is catching. You take every
+precaution, I hope.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I am not likely to forget it. They treat us like
+lepers at the hotels.
+
+EMMY [at the door] Well, deary: have you got round him?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes. Attend to the door and hold your tongue.
+
+EMMY. Thats a good boy. [She goes out with Mrs Dubedat].
+
+RIDGEON [alone] Consultation free. Cure guaranteed. [He heaves a
+great sigh].
+
+
+
+ACT II
+
+After dinner on the terrace at the Star and Garter, Richmond.
+Cloudless summer night; nothing disturbs the stillness except
+from time to time the long trajectory of a distant train and the
+measured clucking of oars coming up from the Thames in the valley
+below. The dinner is over; and three of the eight chairs are
+empty. Sir Patrick, with his back to the view, is at the head of
+the square table with Ridgeon. The two chairs opposite them are
+empty. On their right come, first, a vacant chair, and then one
+very fully occupied by B. B., who basks blissfully in the
+moonbeams. On their left, Schutzmacher and Walpole. The entrance
+to the hotel is on their right, behind B. B. The five men are
+silently enjoying their coffee and cigarets, full of food, and
+not altogether void of wine.
+
+Mrs Dubedat, wrapped up for departure, comes in. They rise,
+except Sir Patrick; but she takes one of the vacant places at the
+foot of the table, next B. B.; and they sit down again.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [as she enters] Louis will be here presently. He is
+shewing Dr Blenkinsop how to work the telephone. [She sits.] Oh,
+I am so sorry we have to go. It seems such a shame, this
+beautiful night. And we have enjoyed ourselves so much.
+
+RIDGEON. I dont believe another half-hour would do Mr Dubedat a
+bit of harm.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Come now, Colly, come! come! none of that. You take
+your man home, Mrs Dubedat; and get him to bed before eleven.
+
+B. B. Yes, yes. Bed before eleven. Quite right, quite right.
+Sorry to lose you, my dear lady; but Sir Patrick's orders are the
+laws of--er--of Tyre and Sidon.
+
+WALPOLE. Let me take you home in my motor.
+
+SIR PATRICK. No. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Walpole.
+Your motor will take Mr and Mrs Dubedat to the station, and quite
+far enough too for an open carriage at night.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, I am sure the train is best.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, Mrs Dubedat, we have had a most enjoyable evening.
+
+WALPOLE.  {Most enjoyable.
+B. B.     {Delightful. Charming. Unforgettable.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [with a touch of shy anxiety] What did you think of
+Louis? Or am I wrong to ask?
+
+RIDGEON. Wrong! Why, we are all charmed with him.
+
+WALPOLE. Delighted.
+
+B. B. Most happy to have met him. A privilege, a real privilege.
+
+SIR PATRICK [grunts]!
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [quickly] Sir Patrick: are YOU uneasy about him?
+
+SIR PATRICK [discreetly] I admire his drawings greatly, maam.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes; but I meant--
+
+RIDGEON. You shall go away quite happy. He's  worth saving. He
+must and shall be saved.
+
+Mrs Dubedat rises and gasps with delight, relief, and gratitude.
+They all rise except Sir Patrick and Schutzmacher, and come
+reassuringly to her.
+
+B. B. Certainly, CER-tainly.
+
+WALPOLE. Theres no real difficulty, if only you know what to do.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, how can I ever thank you! From this night I can
+begin to be happy at last. You dont know what I feel.
+
+She sits down in tears. They crowd about her to console her.
+
+B. B. My dear lady: come come! come come! [very persuasively]
+come come!
+
+WALPOLE. Dont mind us. Have a good cry.
+
+RIDGEON. No: dont cry. Your husband had better not know that weve
+been talking about him.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [quickly pulling herself together] No, of course not.
+Please dont mind me. What a glorious thing it must be to be a
+doctor! [They laugh]. Dont laugh. You dont know what youve done
+for me. I never knew until now how deadly afraid I was--how
+I had come to dread the worst. I never dared let myself know. But
+now the relief has come: now I know.
+
+Louis Dubedat comes from the hotel, in his overcoat, his throat
+wrapped in a shawl. He is a slim young man of 23, physically
+still a stripling, and pretty, though not effeminate. He has
+turquoise blue eyes, and a trick of looking you straight in the
+face with them, which, combined with a frank smile, is very
+engaging. Although he is all nerves, and very observant and quick
+of apprehension, he is not in the least shy. He is younger than
+Jennifer; but he patronizes her as a matter of course. The
+doctors do not put him out in the least: neither Sir Patrick's
+years nor Bloomfield Bonington's majesty have the smallest
+apparent effect on him: he is as natural as a cat: he moves among
+men as most men move among things, though he is intentionally
+making himself agreeable to them on this occasion. Like all
+people who can be depended on to take care of themselves, he is
+welcome company; and his artist's power of appealing to the
+imagination gains him credit for all sorts of qualities and
+powers, whether he possesses them or not.
+
+LOUIS [pulling on his gloves behind Ridgeon's chair] Now, Jinny-
+Gwinny: the motor has come round.
+
+RIDGEON. Why do you let him spoil your beautiful name like that,
+Mrs Dubedat?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, on grand occasions I am Jennifer.
+
+B. B. You are a bachelor: you do not understand these things,
+Ridgeon. Look at me [They look]. I also have two names. In
+moments of domestic worry, I am simple Ralph. When the sun shines
+in the home, I am Beedle-Deedle-Dumkins. Such is married life! Mr
+Dubedat: may I ask you to do me a favor before you go. Will you
+sign your name to this menu card, under the sketch you have made
+of me?
+
+WALPOLE. Yes; and mine too, if you will be so good.
+
+LOUIS. Certainly. [He sits down and signs the cards].
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Wont you sign Dr Schutzmacher's for him, Louis?
+
+LOUIS. I dont think Dr Schutzmacher is pleased with his portrait.
+I'll tear it up. [He reaches across the table for Schutzmacher's
+menu card, and is about to tear it. Schutzmacher makes no sign].
+
+RIDGEON. No, no: if Loony doesnt want it, I do.
+
+LOUIS. I'll sign it for you with pleasure. [He signs and hands it
+to Ridgeon]. Ive just been making a little note of the river to-
+night: it will work up into something good [he shews a pocket
+sketch-book]. I think I'll call it the Silver Danube.
+
+B. B. Ah, charming, charming.
+
+WALPOLE. Very sweet. Youre a nailer at pastel.
+
+Louis coughs, first out of modesty, then from tuberculosis.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Now then, Mr Dubedat: youve had enough of the night
+air. Take him home, maam.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes. Come, Louis.
+
+RIDGEON. Never fear. Never mind. I'll make that cough all right.
+
+B. B. We will stimulate the phagocytes. [With tender effusion,
+shaking her hand] Good-night, Mrs Dubedat. Good-night. Good-
+night.
+
+WALPOLE. If the phagocytes fail, come to me. I'll put you right.
+
+LOUIS. Good-night, Sir Patrick. Happy to have met you.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Night [half a grunt].
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Good-night, Sir Patrick.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Cover yourself well up. Dont think your lungs are
+made of iron because theyre better than his. Good-night.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Thank you. Thank you. Nothing hurts me. Good-night.
+
+Louis goes out through the hotel without noticing Schutzmacher.
+Mrs Dubedat hesitates, then bows to him. Schutzmacher rises and
+bows formally, German fashion. She goes out, attended by Ridgeon.
+The rest resume their seats, ruminating or smoking quietly.
+
+B. B. [harmoniously] Dee-lightful couple! Charming woman! Gifted
+lad! Remarkable talent! Graceful outlines! Perfect evening! Great
+success! Interesting case! Glorious night! Exquisite scenery!
+Capital dinner! Stimulating conversation! Restful outing! Good
+wine! Happy ending! Touching gratitude! Lucky Ridgeon--
+
+RIDGEON [returning] Whats that? Calling me, B. B.? [He goes back
+to his seat next Sir Patrick].
+
+B. B. No, no. Only congratulating you on a most successful
+evening! Enchanting woman! Thorough breeding! Gentle nature!
+Refined--
+
+Blenkinsop comes from the hotel and takes the empty chair next
+Ridgeon.
+
+BLENKINSOP. I'm so sorry to have left you like this, Ridgeon; but
+it was a telephone message from the police. Theyve found half a
+milkman at our level crossing with a prescription of mine in its
+pocket. Wheres Mr Dubedat?
+
+RIDGEON. Gone.
+
+BLENKINSOP [rising, very pale] Gone!
+
+RIDGEON. Just this moment--
+
+BLENKINSOP. Perhaps I could overtake him--[he rushes into the
+hotel].
+
+WALPOLE [calling after him] He's in the motor, man, miles off.
+You can--[giving it up]. No use.
+
+RIDGEON. Theyre really very nice people. I confess I was afraid
+the husband would turn out an appalling bounder. But he's almost
+as charming in his way as she is in hers. And theres no mistake
+about his being a genius. It's something to have got a case
+really worth saving. Somebody else will have to go; but at all
+events it will be easy to find a worse man.
+
+SIR PATRICK. How do you know?
+
+RIDGEON. Come now, Sir Paddy, no growling. Have something more to
+drink.
+
+SIR PATRICK. No, thank you.
+
+WALPOLE. Do you see anything wrong with Dubedat, B. B.?
+
+B. B. Oh, a charming young fellow. Besides, after all, what could
+be wrong with him? Look at him. What could be wrong with him?
+
+SIR PATRICK. There are two things that can be wrong with any man.
+One of them is a cheque. The other is a woman. Until you know
+that a man's sound on these two points, you know nothing about
+him.
+
+B. B. Ah, cynic, cynic!
+
+WALPOLE. He's all right as to the cheque, for a while at all
+events. He talked to me quite frankly before dinner as to the
+pressure of money difficulties on an artist. He says he has no
+vices and is very economical, but that theres one extravagance he
+cant afford and yet cant resist; and that is dressing his wife
+prettily. So I said, bang plump out, "Let me lend you twenty
+pounds, and pay me when your ship comes home." He was really very
+nice about it. He took it like a man; and it was a pleasure to
+see how happy it made him, poor chap.
+
+B. B. [who has listened to Walpole with growing perturbation]
+But--but--but--when was this, may I ask?
+
+WALPOLE. When I joined you that time down by the river.
+
+B. B. But, my dear Walpole, he had just borrowed ten pounds from
+me.
+
+WALPOLE. What!
+
+SIR PATRICK [grunts]!
+
+B. B. [indulgently] Well, well, it was really hardly borrowing;
+for he said heaven only knew when he could pay me. I couldnt
+refuse. It appears that Mrs Dubedat has taken a sort of fancy to
+me--
+
+WALPOLE [quickly] No: it was to me.
+
+B. B. Certainly not. Your name was never mentioned between us. He
+is so wrapped up in his work that he has to leave her a good deal
+alone; and the poor innocent young fellow--he has of course no
+idea of my position or how busy I am--actually wanted me to call
+occasionally and talk to her.
+
+WALPOLE. Exactly what he said to me!
+
+B. B. Pooh! Pooh pooh! Really, I must say. [Much disturbed, he
+rises and goes up to the balustrade, contemplating the landscape
+vexedly].
+
+WALPOLE. Look here, Ridgeon! this is beginning to look serious.
+
+Blenkinsop, very anxious and wretched, but trying to look
+unconcerned, comes back.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, did you catch him?
+
+BLENKINSOP. No. Excuse my running away like that. [He sits down
+at the foot of the table, next Bloomfeld Bonington's chair].
+
+WALPOLE. Anything the matter?
+
+BLENKINSOP. Oh no. A trifle--something ridiculous. It cant be
+helped. Never mind.
+
+RIDGEON. Was it anything about Dubedat?
+
+BLENKINSOP [almost breaking down] I ought to keep it to myself, I
+know. I cant tell you, Ridgeon, how ashamed I am of dragging my
+miserable poverty to your dinner after all your kindness. It's
+not that you wont ask me again; but it's so humiliating. And I
+did so look forward to one evening in my dress clothes (THEYRE
+still presentable, you see) with all my troubles left behind,
+just like old times.
+
+RIDGEON. But what has happened?
+
+BLENKINSOP. Oh, nothing. It's too ridiculous. I had just scraped
+up four shillings for this little outing; and it cost me one-and-
+fourpence to get here. Well, Dubedat asked me to lend him half-a-
+crown to tip the chambermaid of the room his wife left her wraps
+in, and for the cloakroom. He said he only wanted it for five
+minutes, as she had his purse. So of course I lent it to him. And
+he's forgotten to pay me. I've just tuppence to get back with.
+
+RIDGEON. Oh, never mind that--
+
+BLENKINSOP [stopping him resolutely] No: I know what youre going
+to say; but I wont take it. Ive never borrowed a penny; and I
+never will. Ive nothing left but my friends; and I wont sell
+them. If none of you were to be able to meet me without being
+afraid that my civility was leading up to the loan of five
+shillings, there would be an end of everything for me. I'll take
+your old clothes, Colly, sooner than disgrace you by talking to
+you in the street in my own; but I wont borrow money. I'll train
+it as far as the twopence will take me; and I'll tramp the rest.
+
+WALPOLE. Youll do the whole distance in my motor. [They are all
+greatly relieved; and Walpole hastens to get away from the
+painful subject by adding] Did he get anything out of you, Mr
+Schutzmacher?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER [shakes his head in a most expressive negative].
+
+WALPOLE. You didnt appreciate his drawing, I think.
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Oh yes I did. I should have liked very much to have
+kept the sketch and got it autographed.
+
+B. B. But why didnt you?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Well, the fact is, when I joined Dubedat after his
+conversation with Mr Walpole, he said the Jews were the only
+people who knew anything about art, and that though he had to put
+up with your Philistine twaddle, as he called it, it was what I
+said about the drawings that really pleased him. He also said
+that his wife was greatly struck with my knowledge, and that she
+always admired Jews. Then he asked me to advance him 50 pounds on
+the security of the drawings.
+
+B. B.         { [All       } No, no. Positively! Seriously!
+WALPOLE       { exclaiming } What! Another fifty!
+BLENKINSOP    { together]  } Think of that!
+SIR PATRICK   {            } [grunts]!
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Of course I couldnt lend money to a stranger like
+that.
+
+B. B. I envy you the power to say No, Mr Schutzmacher. Of course,
+I knew I oughtnt to lend money to a young fellow in that way; but
+I simply hadnt the nerve to refuse. I couldnt very well, you
+know, could I?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. I dont understand that. I felt that I couldnt very
+well lend it.
+
+WALPOLE. What did he say?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Well, he made a very uncalled-for remark about a
+Jew not understanding the feelings of a gentleman. I must say you
+Gentiles are very hard to please. You say we are no gentlemen
+when we lend money; and when we refuse to lend it you say just
+the same. I didnt mean to behave badly. As I told him, I might
+have lent it to him if he had been a Jew himself.
+
+SIR PATRICK [with a grunt] And what did he say to that?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Oh, he began trying to persuade me that he was one
+of the chosen people--that his artistic faculty shewed it, and
+that his name was as foreign as my own. He said he didnt really
+want 50 pounds; that he was only joking; that all he wanted was a
+couple of sovereigns.
+
+B. B. No, no, Mr Schutzmacher. You invented that last touch.
+Seriously, now?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. No. You cant improve on Nature in telling stories
+about gentlemen like Mr Dubedat.
+
+BLENKINSOP. You certainly do stand by one another, you chosen
+people, Mr Schutzmacher.
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Not at all. Personally, I like Englishmen better
+than Jews, and always associate with them. Thats only natural,
+because, as I am a Jew, theres nothing interesting in a Jew to
+me, whereas there is always something interesting and foreign in
+an Englishman. But in money matters it's quite different. You
+see, when an Englishman borrows, all he knows or cares is that he
+wants money; and he'll sign anything to get it, without in the
+least understanding it, or intending to carry out the agreement
+if it turns out badly for him. In fact, he thinks you a cad if
+you ask him to carry it out under such circumstances. Just like
+the Merchant of Venice, you know. But if a Jew makes an
+agreement, he means to keep it and expects you to keep it. If he
+wants money for a time, he borrows it and knows he must pay it at
+the end of the time. If he knows he cant pay, he begs it as a
+gift.
+
+RIDGEON. Come, Loony! do you mean to say that Jews are never
+rogues and thieves?
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Oh, not at all. But I was not talking of criminals.
+I was comparing honest Englishmen with honest Jews.
+
+One of the hotel maids, a pretty, fair-haired woman of about 25,
+comes from the hotel, rather furtively. She accosts Ridgeon.
+
+THE MAID. I beg your pardon, sir--
+
+RIDGEON. Eh?
+
+THE MAID. I beg pardon, sir. It's not about the hotel. I'm not
+allowed to be on the terrace; and I should be discharged if I
+were seen speaking to you, unless you were kind enough to say you
+called me to ask whether the motor has come back from the station
+yet.
+
+WALPOLE. Has it?
+
+THE MAID. Yes, sir.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, what do you want?
+
+THE MAID. Would you mind, sir, giving me the address of the
+gentleman that was with you at dinner?
+
+RIDGEON [sharply] Yes, of course I should mind very much. You
+have no right to ask.
+
+THE MAID. Yes, sir, I know it looks like that. But what am I to
+do?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Whats the matter with you?
+
+THE MAID. Nothing, sir. I want the address: thats all.
+
+B. B. You mean the young gentleman?
+
+THE MAID. Yes, sir: that went to catch the train with the woman
+he brought with him.
+
+RIDGEON. The woman! Do you mean the lady who dined here? the
+gentleman's wife?
+
+THE MAID. Dont believe them, sir. She cant be his wife. I'm his
+wife.
+
+B. B.    {[in amazed remonstrance] My good girl!
+RIDGEON  {You his wife!
+WALPOLE  {What! whats that? Oh, this is getting perfectly
+          fascinating, Ridgeon.
+
+THE MAID. I could run upstairs and get you my marriage lines in a
+minute, sir, if you doubt my word. He's Mr Louis Dubedat, isnt
+he?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes.
+
+THE MAID. Well, sir, you may believe me or not; but I'm the
+lawful Mrs Dubedat.
+
+SIR PATRICK. And why arnt you living with your husband?
+
+THE MAID. We couldnt afford it, sir. I had thirty pounds saved;
+and we spent it all on our honeymoon in three weeks, and a lot
+more that he borrowed. Then I had to go back into service, and he
+went to London to get work at his drawing; and he never wrote me
+a line or sent me an address. I never saw nor heard of him again
+until I caught sight of him from the window going off in the
+motor with that woman.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well, thats two wives to start with.
+
+B. B. Now upon my soul I dont want to be uncharitable; but really
+I'm beginning to suspect that our young friend is rather
+careless.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Beginning to think! How long will it take you, man,
+to find out that he's a damned young blackguard?
+
+BLENKINSOP. Oh, thats severe, Sir Patrick, very severe. Of course
+it's bigamy; but still he's very young; and she's very pretty. Mr
+Walpole: may I spunge on you for another of those nice cigarets
+of yours? [He changes his seat for the one next Walpole].
+
+WALPOLE. Certainly. [He feels in his pockets]. Oh bother!
+Where--? [Suddenly remembering] I say: I recollect now: I passed
+my cigaret case to Dubedat and he didnt return it. It was a gold
+one.
+
+THE MAID. He didnt mean any harm: he never thinks about things
+like that, sir. I'll get it back for you, sir, if youll tell me
+where to find him.
+
+RIDGEON. What am I to do? Shall I give her the address or not?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Give her your own address; and then we'll see. [To
+the maid] Youll have to be content with that for the present, my
+girl. [Ridgeon gives her his card]. Whats your name?
+
+THE MAID. Minnie Tinwell, sir.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well, you write him a letter to care of this
+gentleman; and it will be sent on. Now be off with you.
+
+THE MAID. Thank you, sir. I'm sure you wouldnt see me wronged.
+Thank you all, gentlemen; and excuse the liberty.
+
+She goes into the hotel. They match her in silence.
+
+RIDGEON [when she is gone] Do you realize, chaps, that we have
+promised Mrs Dubedat to save this fellow's life?
+
+BLENKINSOP. Whats the matter with him?
+
+RIDGEON. Tuberculosis.
+
+BLENKINSOP [interested] And can you cure that?
+
+RIDGEON. I believe so.
+
+BLENKINSOP. Then I wish youd cure me. My right lung is touched,
+I'm sorry to say.
+
+RIDGEON       }               { What! Your lung is going?
+B.B           }               { My dear Blenkinsop, what do you
+              }   [all        { tell me? [full of concern for
+              }    together]  { Blenkinsop he comes back from the
+              }               { balustrade].
+SIR PATRICK   }               { Eh? Eh? Whats that?
+WALPOLE       }               { Hullo, you mustn't neglect this,
+              }               { you know.
+
+BLENKINSOP [putting his fingers in his ears] No, no: it's no use.
+I know what youre going to say: Ive said it often to others. I
+cant afford to take care of myself; and theres an end of it. If a
+fortnight's holiday would save my life, I'd have to die. I shall
+get on as others have to get on. We cant all go to St Moritz or
+to Egypt, you know, Sir Ralph. Dont talk about it.
+
+Embarrassed silence.
+
+SIR PATRICK [grunts and looks hard at Ridgeon]!
+
+SCHUTZMACHER [looking at his watch and rising] I must go. It's
+been a very pleasant evening, Colly. You might let me have my
+portrait if you dont mind. I'll send Mr Dubedat that couple of
+sovereigns for it.
+
+RIDGEON [giving him the menu card] Oh dont do that, Loony. I dont
+think he'd like that.
+
+SCHUTZMACHER. Well, of course I shant if you feel that way about
+it. But I dont think you understand Dubedat. However, perhaps
+thats because I'm a Jew. Good-night, Dr Blenkinsop [shaking
+hands].
+
+BLENKINSOP. Good-night, sir--I mean--Good-night.
+
+SCHUTZMACHER [waving his hand to the rest] Goodnight, everybody.
+
+WALPOLE     {
+B. B.       {
+SIR PATRICK {  Good-night.
+RIDGEON     {
+
+B. B. repeats the salutation several times, in varied musical
+tones. Schutzmacher goes out.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Its time for us all to move. [He rises and comes
+between Blenkinsop and Walpole. Ridgeon also rises]. Mr Walpole:
+take Blenkinsop home: he's had enough of the open air cure for
+to-night. Have you a thick overcoat to wear in the motor, Dr
+Blenkinsop?
+
+BLENKINSOP. Oh, theyll give me some brown paper in the hotel; and
+a few thicknesses of brown paper across the chest are better than
+any fur coat.
+
+WALPOLE. Well, come along. Good-night, Colly. Youre coming with
+us, arnt you, B. B.?
+
+B. B. Yes: I'm coming. [Walpole and Blenkinsop go into
+the hotel]. Good-night, my dear Ridgeon [shaking hands
+affectionately]. Dont let us lose sight of your interesting
+patient and his very charming wife. We must not judge him too
+hastily, you know. [With unction] G o o o o o o o o d-night,
+Paddy. Bless you, dear old chap. [Sir Patrick utters a formidable
+grunt. B. B. laughs and pats him indulgently on the shoulder]
+Good-night. Good-night. Good-night. Good-night. [He good-nights
+himself into the hotel].
+
+The others have meanwhile gone without ceremony. Ridgeon and Sir
+Patrick are left alone together. Ridgeon, deep in thought, comes
+down to Sir Patrick.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well, Mr Savior of Lives: which is it to be? that
+honest decent man Blenkinsop, or that rotten blackguard of an
+artist, eh?
+
+RIDGEON. Its not an easy case to judge, is it? Blenkinsop's an
+honest decent man; but is he any use? Dubedat's a rotten
+blackguard; but he's a genuine source of pretty and pleasant and
+good things.
+
+SIR PATRICK. What will he be a source of for that poor innocent
+wife of his, when she finds him out?
+
+RIDGEON. Thats true. Her life will be a hell.
+
+SIR PATRICK. And tell me this. Suppose you had this choice put
+before you: either to go through life and find all the pictures
+bad but all the men and women good, or to go through life and
+find all the pictures good and all the men and women rotten.
+Which would you choose?
+
+RIDGEON. Thats a devilishly difficult question, Paddy. The
+pictures are so agreeable, and the good people so infernally
+disagreeable and mischievous, that I really cant undertake to say
+offhand which I should prefer to do without.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Come come! none of your cleverness with me: I'm too
+old for it. Blenkinsop isnt that sort of good man; and you know
+it.
+
+RIDGEON. It would be simpler if Blenkinsop could paint Dubedat's
+pictures.
+
+SIR PATRICK. It would be simpler still if Dubedat had some of
+Blenkinsop's honesty. The world isnt going to be made simple for
+you, my lad: you must take it as it is. Youve to hold the scales
+between Blenkinsop and Dubedat. Hold them fairly.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, I'll be as fair as I can. I'll put into one scale
+all the pounds Dubedat has borrowed, and into the other all the
+half-crowns that Blenkinsop hasnt borrowed.
+
+SIR PATRICK. And youll take out of Dubedat's scale all the faith
+he has destroyed and the honor he has lost, and youll put into
+Blenkinsop's scale all the faith he has justified and the honor
+he has created.
+
+RIDGEON. Come come, Paddy! none of your claptrap with me: I'm too
+sceptical for it. I'm not at all convinced that the world wouldnt
+be a better world if everybody behaved as Dubedat does than it is
+now that everybody behaves as Blenkinsop does.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Then why dont you behave as Dubedat does?
+
+RIDGEON. Ah, that beats me. Thats the experimental test. Still,
+it's a dilemma. It's a dilemma. You see theres a complication we
+havnt mentioned.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Whats that?
+
+RIDGEON. Well, if I let Blenkinsop die, at least nobody can say I
+did it because I wanted to marry his widow.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Eh? Whats that?
+
+RIDGEON. Now if I let Dubedat die, I'll marry his widow.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Perhaps she wont have you, you know.
+
+RIDGEON [with a self-assured shake of the head] I've a pretty
+good flair for that sort of thing. I know when a woman is
+interested in me. She is.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well, sometimes a man knows best; and sometimes he
+knows worst. Youd much better cure them both.
+
+RIDGEON. I cant. I'm at my limit. I can squeeze in one more case,
+but not two. I must choose.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well, you must choose as if she didnt exist: thats
+clear.
+
+RIDGEON. Is that clear to you? Mind: it's not clear to me. She
+troubles my judgment.
+
+SIR PATRICK. To me, it's a plain choice between a man and a lot
+of pictures.
+
+RIDGEON. It's easier to replace a dead man than a good picture.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Colly: when you live in an age that runs to pictures
+and statues and plays and brass bands because its men and women
+are not good enough to comfort its poor aching soul, you should
+thank Providence that you belong to a profession which is a high
+and great profession because its business is to heal and mend men
+and women.
+
+RIDGEON. In short, as a member of a high and great profession,
+I'm to kill my patient.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Dont talk wicked nonsense. You cant kill him. But
+you can leave him in other hands.
+
+RIDGEON. In B. B.'s, for instance: eh? [looking at him
+significantly].
+
+SIR PATRICK [demurely facing his look] Sir Ralph Bloomfield
+Bonington is a very eminent physician.
+
+RIDGEON. He is.
+
+SIR PATRICK. I'm going for my hat.
+
+Ridgeon strikes the bell as Sir Patrick makes for the hotel. A
+waiter comes.
+
+RIDGEON [to the waiter] My bill, please.
+
+WAITER. Yes, sir.
+
+He goes for it.
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+In Dubedat's studio. Viewed from the large window the outer door
+is in the wall on the left at the near end. The door leading to
+the inner rooms is in the opposite wall, at the far end. The
+facing wall has neither window nor door. The plaster on all the
+walls is uncovered and undecorated, except by scrawlings of
+charcoal sketches and memoranda. There is a studio throne (a
+chair on a dais) a little to the left, opposite the inner door,
+and an easel to the right, opposite the outer door, with a
+dilapidated chair at it. Near the easel and against the wall is a
+bare wooden table with bottles and jars of oil and medium, paint-
+smudged rags, tubes of color, brushes, charcoal, a small last
+figure, a kettle and spirit-lamp, and other odds and ends. By
+the table is a sofa, littered with drawing blocks, sketch-books,
+loose sheets of paper, newspapers, books, and more smudged rags.
+Next the outer door is an umbrella and hat stand, occupied partly
+by Louis' hats and cloak and muffler, and partly by odds
+and ends of costumes. There is an old piano stool on the
+near side of this door. In the corner near the inner door
+is a little tea-table. A lay figure, in a cardinal's robe and
+hat, with an hour-glass in one hand and a scythe slung on its
+back, smiles with inane malice at Louis, who, in a milkman's
+smock much smudged with colors, is painting a piece of brocade
+which he has draped about his wife.
+
+She is sitting on the throne, not interested in the painting, and
+appealing to him very anxiously about another matter.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Promise.
+
+LOUIS [putting on a touch of paint with notable skill and care
+and answering quite perfunctorily] I promise, my darling.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. When you want money, you will always come to me.
+
+LOUIS. But it's so sordid, dearest. I hate money. I cant keep
+always bothering you for money, money, money. Thats what drives
+me sometimes to ask other people, though I hate doing it.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. It is far better to ask me, dear. It gives people a
+wrong idea of you.
+
+LOUIS. But I want to spare your little fortune, and raise money
+on my own work. Dont be unhappy, love: I can easily earn enough
+to pay it all back. I shall have a one-man-show next season; and
+then there will be no more money troubles. [Putting down his
+palette] There! I mustnt do any more on that until it's bone-dry;
+so you may come down.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [throwing off the drapery as she steps down, and
+revealing a plain frock of tussore silk] But you have promised,
+remember, seriously and faithfully, never to borrow again until
+you have first asked me.
+
+LOUIS. Seriously and faithfully. [Embracing her] Ah, my love, how
+right you are! how much it means to me to have you by me to guard
+me against living too much in the skies. On my solemn oath, from
+this moment forth I will never borrow another penny.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [delighted] Ah, thats right. Does his wicked worrying
+wife torment him and drag him down from the clouds. [She kisses
+him]. And now, dear, wont you finish those drawings for Maclean?
+
+LOUIS. Oh, they dont matter. Ive got nearly all the money from
+him in advance.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. But, dearest, that is just the reason why you should
+finish them. He asked me the other day whether you really
+intended to finish them.
+
+LOUIS. Confound his impudence! What the devil does he take me
+for? Now that just destroys all my interest in the beastly job.
+Ive a good mind to throw up the commission, and pay him back his
+money.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. We cant afford that, dear. You had better finish the
+drawings and have done with them. I think it is a mistake to
+accept money in advance.
+
+LOUIS. But how are we to live?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Well, Louis, it is getting hard enough as it is, now
+that they are all refusing to pay except on delivery.
+
+LOUIS. Damn those fellows! they think of nothing and care for
+nothing but their wretched money.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Still, if they pay us, they ought to have what they
+pay for.
+
+LOUIS [coaxing;] There now: thats enough lecturing for to-day.
+Ive promised to be good, havnt I?
+
+MRS DUDEBAT [putting her arms round his neck] You know that I
+hate lecturing, and that I dont for a moment misunderstand you,
+dear, dont you?
+
+LOUIS [fondly] I know. I know. I'm a wretch; and youre an angel.
+Oh, if only I were strong enough to work steadily, I'd make my
+darling's house a temple, and her shrine a chapel more beautiful
+than was ever imagined. I cant pass the shops without wrestling
+with the temptation to go in and order all the really good things
+they have for you.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I want nothing but you, dear. [She gives him a
+caress, to which he responds so passionately that she disengages
+herself]. There! be good now: remember that the doctors are
+coming this morning. Isnt it extraordinarily kind of them, Louis,
+to insist on coming? all of them, to consult about you?
+
+LOUIS [coolly] Oh, I daresay they think it will be a feather in
+their cap to cure a rising artist. They wouldnt come if it didnt
+amuse them, anyhow. [Someone knocks at the door]. I say: its not
+time yet, is it?
+
+MRS DUDEBAT. No, not quite yet.
+
+LOUIS [opening the door and finding Ridgeon there] Hello,
+Ridgeon. Delighted to see you. Come in.
+
+MRS DUDEBAT [shaking hands] It's so good of you to come, doctor.
+
+LOUIS. Excuse this place, wont you? Its only a studio, you know:
+theres no real convenience for living here. But we pig along
+somehow, thanks to Jennifer.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Now I'll run away. Perhaps later on, when youre
+finished with Louis, I may come in and hear the verdict. [Ridgeon
+bows rather constrainedly]. Would you rather I didnt?
+
+RIDGEON. Not at all. Not at all.
+
+Mrs Dubedat looks at him, a little puzzled by his formal manner;
+then goes into the inner room.
+
+LOUIS [flippantly] I say: dont look so grave. Theres nothing
+awful going to happen, is there?
+
+RIDGEON. No.
+
+LOUIS. Thats all right. Poor Jennifer has been looking forward to
+your visit more than you can imagine. Shes taken quite a fancy to
+you, Ridgeon. The poor girl has nobody to talk to: I'm always
+painting. [Taking up a sketch] Theres a little sketch I made of
+her yesterday.
+
+RIDGEON. She shewed it to me a fortnight ago when she first
+called on me.
+
+LOUIS [quite unabashed] Oh! did she? Good Lord! how time does
+fly! I could have sworn I'd only just finished it. It's hard for
+her here, seeing me piling up drawings and nothing coming in for
+them. Of course I shall sell them next year fast enough, after my
+one-man-show; but while the grass grows the steed starves. I hate
+to have her coming to me for money, and having none to give her.
+But what can I do?
+
+RIDGEON. I understood that Mrs Dubedat had some property of her
+own.
+
+Louis. Oh yes, a little; but how could a man with any decency of
+feeling touch that? Suppose I did, what would she have to live on
+if I died? I'm not insured: cant afford the premiums. [Picking
+out another drawing] How do you like that?
+
+RIDGEON [putting it aside] I have not come here to-day to look at
+your drawings. I have more serious and pressing business with
+you.
+
+LOUIS. You want to sound my wretched lung. [With impulsive
+candor] My dear Ridgeon: I'll be frank with you. Whats the matter
+in this house isnt lungs but bills. It doesnt matter about me;
+but Jennifer has actually to economize in the matter of food.
+Youve made us feel that we can treat you as a friend. Will you
+lend us a hundred and fifty pounds?
+
+RIDGEON. No.
+
+LOUIS [surprised] Why not?
+
+RIDGEON. I am not a rich man; and I want every penny I can spare
+and more for my researches.
+
+LOUIS. You mean youd want the money back again.
+
+RIDGEON. I presume people sometimes have that in view when they
+lend money.
+
+LOUIS [after a moment's reflection] Well, I can manage that for
+you. I'll give you a cheque--or see here: theres no reason why
+you shouldnt have your bit too: I'll give you a cheque for two
+hundred.
+
+RIDGEON. Why not cash the cheque at once without troubling me?
+
+LOUIS. Bless you! they wouldnt cash it: I'm overdrawn as it is.
+No: the way to work it is this. I'll postdate the cheque next
+October. In October Jennifer's dividends come in. Well, you
+present the cheque. It will be returned marked "refer to drawer"
+or some rubbish of that sort. Then you can take it to Jennifer,
+and hint that if the cheque isnt taken up at once I shall be
+put in prison. She'll pay you like a shot. Youll clear 50 pounds;
+and youll do me a real service; for I do want the money very
+badly, old chap, I assure you.
+
+RIDGEON [staring at him] You see no objection to the transaction;
+and you anticipate none from me!
+
+LOUIS. Well, what objection can there be? It's quite safe. I can
+convince you about the dividends.
+
+RIDGEON. I mean on the score of its being--shall I say
+dishonorable?
+
+LOUIS. Well, of course I shouldnt suggest it if I didnt want the
+money.
+
+RIDGEON. Indeed! Well, you will have to find some other means of
+getting it.
+
+LOUIS. Do you mean that you refuse?
+
+RIDGEON. Do I mean--! [letting his indignation loose] Of course I
+refuse, man. What do you take me for? How dare you make such a
+proposal to me?
+
+LOUIS. Why not?
+
+RIDGEON. Faugh! You would not understand me if I tried to
+explain. Now, once for all, I will not lend you a farthing. I
+should be glad to help your wife; but lending you money is no
+service to her.
+
+LOUIS. Oh well, if youre in earnest about helping her, I'll tell
+you what you might do. You might get your patients to buy some of
+my things, or to give me a few portrait commissions.
+
+RIDGEON. My patients call me in as a physician, not as a
+commercial traveller.
+
+A knock at the door.
+
+Louis goes unconcernedly to open it, pursuing the subject as he
+goes.
+
+LOUIS. But you must have great influence with them. You must know
+such lots of things about them--private things that they wouldnt
+like to have known. They wouldnt dare to refuse you.
+
+RIDGEON [exploding] Well, upon my--
+
+Louis opens the door, and admits Sir Patrick, Sir Ralph, and
+Walpole.
+
+RIDGEON [proceeding furiously] Walpole: Ive been here hardly ten
+minutes; and already he's tried to borrow 150 pounds from me.
+Then he proposed that I should get the money for him by
+blackmailing his wife; and youve just interrupted him in the act
+of suggesting that I should blackmail my patients into sitting to
+him for their portraits.
+
+LOUIS. Well, Ridgeon, if this is what you call being an honorable
+man! I spoke to you in confidence.
+
+SIR PATRICK. We're all going to speak to you in confidence, young
+man.
+
+WALPOLE [hanging his hat on the only peg left vacant on the hat-
+stand] We shall make ourselves at home for half an hour, Dubedat.
+Dont be alarmed: youre a most fascinating chap; and we love you.
+
+LOUIS. Oh, all right, all right. Sit down--anywhere you can. Take
+this chair, Sir Patrick [indicating the one on the throne]. Up-z-
+z-z! [helping him up: Sir Patrick grunts and enthrones himself].
+Here you are, B. B. [Sir Ralph glares at the familiarity; but
+Louis, quite undisturbed, puts a big book and a sofa cushion on
+the dais, on Sir Patrick's right; and B. B. sits down, under
+protest]. Let me take your hat. [He takes B. B.'s hat
+unceremoniously, and substitutes it for the cardinal's hat on the
+head of the lay figure, thereby ingeniously destroying the
+dignity of the conclave. He then draws the piano stool from the
+wall and offers it to Walpole]. You dont mind this, Walpole, do
+you? [Walpole accepts the stool, and puts his hand into his
+pocket for his cigaret case. Missing it, he is reminded of his
+loss].
+
+WALPOLE. By the way, I'll trouble you for my cigaret case, if you
+dont mind?
+
+LOUIS. What cigaret case?
+
+WALPOLE. The gold one I lent you at the Star and Garter.
+
+LOUIS [surprised] Was that yours?
+
+WALPOLE. Yes.
+
+LOUIS. I'm awfully sorry, old chap. I wondered whose it was. I'm
+sorry to say this is all thats left of it. [He hitches up his
+smock; produces a card from his waistcoat pocket; and hands it to
+Walpole].
+
+WALPOLE. A pawn ticket!
+
+LOUIS [reassuringly] It's quite safe: he cant sell it for a year,
+you know. I say, my dear Walpole, I am sorry. [He places his hand
+ingenuously on Walpole's shoulder and looks frankly at him].
+
+WALPOLE [sinking on the stool with a gasp] Dont mention it. It
+adds to your fascination.
+
+RIDGEON [who has been standing near the easel] Before we go any
+further, you have a debt to pay, Mr Dubedat.
+
+LOUIS. I have a precious lot of debts to pay, Ridgeon. I'll fetch
+you a chair. [He makes for the inner door].
+
+RIDGEON [stopping him] You shall not leave the room until you pay
+it. It's a small one; and pay it you must and shall. I dont so
+much mind your borrowing 10 pounds from one of my guests and 20
+pounds from the other--
+
+WALPOLE. I walked into it, you know. I offered it.
+
+RIDGEON. --they could afford it. But to clean poor Blenkinsop out
+of his last half-crown was damnable. I intend to give him that
+half-crown and to be in a position to pledge him my word that you
+paid it. I'll have that out of you, at all events.
+
+B. B. Quite right, Ridgeon. Quite right. Come, young man! down
+with the dust. Pay up.
+
+LOUIS. Oh, you neednt make such a fuss about it. Of course I'll
+pay it. I had no idea the poor fellow was hard up. I'm as shocked
+as any of you about it. [Putting his hand into his pocket] Here
+you are. [Finding his pocket empty] Oh, I say, I havnt any money
+on me just at present. Walpole: would you mind lending me half-a-
+crown just to settle this.
+
+WALPOLE. Lend you half-- [his voice faints away].
+
+LOUIS. Well, if you dont, Blenkinsop wont get it; for I havnt a
+rap: you may search my pockets if you like.
+
+WALPOLE. Thats conclusive. [He produces half-a-crown].
+
+LOUIS [passing it to Ridgeon] There! I'm really glad thats
+settled: it was the only thing that was on my conscience. Now I
+hope youre all satisfied.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Not quite, Mr Dubedat. Do you happen to know a young
+woman named Minnie Tinwell?
+
+LOUIS. Minnie! I should think I do; and Minnie knows me too.
+She's a really nice good girl, considering her station. Whats
+become of her?
+
+WALPOLE. It's no use bluffing, Dubedat. Weve seen Minnie's
+marriage lines.
+
+LOUIS [coolly] Indeed? Have you seen Jennifer's?
+
+RIDGEON [rising in irrepressible rage] Do you dare insinuate that
+Mrs Dubedat is living with you without being married to you?
+
+LOUIS. Why not?
+
+B. B.    { [echoing him in  }  Why not!
+SIR PATRICK { various tones of }  Why not!
+RIDGEON { scandalized  }  Why not!
+WALPOLE { amazement]  }  Why not!
+
+LOUIS. Yes, why not? Lots of people do it: just as good people as
+you. Why dont you learn to think, instead of bleating and bashing
+like a lot of sheep when you come up against anything youre not
+accustomed to? [Contemplating their amazed faces with a chuckle]
+I say: I should like to draw the lot of you now: you do look
+jolly foolish. Especially you, Ridgeon. I had you that time, you
+know.
+
+RIDGEON. How, pray?
+
+LOUIS. Well, you set up to appreciate Jennifer, you know. And you
+despise me, dont you?
+
+RIDGEON [curtly] I loathe you. [He sits down again on the sofa].
+
+LOUIS. Just so. And yet you believe that Jennifer is a bad lot
+because you think I told you so.
+
+RIDGEON. Were you lying?
+
+LOUIS. No; but you were smelling out a scandal instead of keeping
+your mind clean and wholesome. I can just play with people like
+you. I only asked you had you seen Jennifer's marriage lines; and
+you concluded straight away that she hadnt got any. You dont know
+a lady when you see one.
+
+B. B. [majestically] What do you mean by that, may I ask?
+
+LOUIS. Now, I'm only an immoral artist; but if YOUD told me that
+Jennifer wasnt married, I'd have had the gentlemanly feeling and
+artistic instinct to say that she carried her marriage
+certificate in her face and in her character. But you are all
+moral men; and Jennifer is only an artist's wife--probably a
+model; and morality consists in suspecting other people of not
+being legally married. Arnt you ashamed of yourselves? Can one of
+you look me in the face after it?
+
+WALPOLE. Its very hard to look you in the face, Dubedat; you have
+such a dazzling cheek. What about Minnie Tinwell, eh?
+
+LOUIS. Minnie Tinwell is a young woman who has had three weeks of
+glorious happiness in her poor little life, which is more than
+most girls in her position get, I can tell you. Ask her whether
+she'd take it back if she could. She's got her name into history,
+that girl. My little sketches of her will be bought by collectors
+at Christie's. She'll have a page in my biography. Pretty good,
+that, for a still-room maid at a seaside hotel, I think. What
+have you fellows done for her to compare with that?
+
+RIDGEON. We havnt trapped her into a mock marriage and deserted
+her.
+
+LOUIS. No: you wouldnt have the pluck. But dont fuss yourselves.
+I didnt desert little Minnie. We spent all our money--
+
+WALPOLE. All HER money. Thirty pounds.
+
+LOUIS. I said all our money: hers and mine too. Her thirty pounds
+didnt last three days. I had to borrow four times as much to
+spend on her. But I didnt grudge it; and she didnt grudge her few
+pounds either, the brave little lassie. When we were cleaned out,
+we'd had enough of it: you can hardly suppose that we were fit
+company for longer than that: I an artist, and she quite out of
+art and literature and refined living and everything else. There
+was no desertion, no misunderstanding, no police court or divorce
+court sensation for you moral chaps to lick your lips over at
+breakfast. We just said, Well, the money's gone: weve had a good
+time that can never be taken from us; so kiss; part good friends;
+and she back to service, and I back to my studio and my Jennifer,
+both the better and happier for our holiday.
+
+WALPOLE. Quite a little poem, by George!'
+
+B. B. If you had been scientifically trained, Mr Dubedat, you
+would know how very seldom an actual case bears out a principle.
+In medical practice a man may die when, scientifically speaking,
+he ought to have lived. I have actually known a man die of a
+disease from which he was scientifically speaking, immune. But
+that does not affect the fundamental truth of science. In just
+the same way, in moral cases, a man's behavior may be quite
+harmless and even beneficial, when he is morally behaving like a
+scoundrel. And he may do great harm when he is morally acting on
+the highest principles. But that does not affect the fundamental
+truth of morality.
+
+SIR PATRICK. And it doesnt affect the criminal law on the subject
+of bigamy.
+
+LOUIS. Oh bigamy! bigamy! bigamy! What a fascination anything
+connected with the police has for you all, you moralists! Ive
+proved to you that you were utterly wrong on the moral point: now
+I'm going to shew you that youre utterly wrong on the legal
+point; and I hope it will be a lesson to you not to be so jolly
+cocksure next time.
+
+WALPOLE. Rot! You were married already when you married her; and
+that settles it.
+
+LOUIS. Does it! Why cant you think? How do you know she wasnt
+married already too?
+
+B.B.          {   [all       }   Walpole! Ridgeon!
+RIDGEON       {  crying      }   This is beyond everything!
+WALPOLE       {    out       }   Well, damn me!
+SIR PATRICK   {  together]   }   You young rascal.
+
+LOUIS [ignoring their outcry] She was married to the steward of a
+liner. He cleared out and left her; and she thought, poor girl,
+that it was the law that if you hadnt heard of your husband for
+three years you might marry again. So as she was a thoroughly
+respectable girl and refused to have anything to say to me unless
+we were married I went through the ceremony to please her and to
+preserve her self-respect.
+
+RIDGEON. Did you tell her you were already married?
+
+LOUIS. Of course not. Dont you see that if she had known, she
+wouldnt have considered herself my wife? You dont seem to
+understand, somehow.
+
+SIR PATRICK. You let her risk imprisonment in her ignorance of
+the law?
+
+LOUIS. Well, _I_ risked imprisonment for her sake. I could have
+been had up for it just as much as she. But when a man makes a
+sacrifice of that sort for a woman, he doesnt go and brag about
+it to her; at least, not if he's a gentleman.
+
+WALPOLE. What are we to do with this daisy?
+
+LOUIS. [impatiently] Oh, go and do whatever the devil you please.
+Put Minnie in prison. Put me in prison. Kill Jennifer with the
+disgrace of it all. And then, when youve done all the mischief
+you can, go to church and feel good about it. [He sits down
+pettishly on the old chair at the easel, and takes up a sketching
+block, on which he begins to draw]
+
+WALPOLE. He's got us.
+
+SIR PATRICK [grimly] He has.
+
+B. B. But is he to be allowed to defy the criminal law of the
+land?
+
+SIR PATRICK. The criminal law is no use to decent people. It only
+helps blackguards to blackmail their families. What are we family
+doctors doing half our time but conspiring with the family
+solicitor to keep some rascal out of jail and some family out of
+disgrace?
+
+B. B. But at least it will punish him.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Oh, yes: Itll punish him. Itll punish not only him
+but everybody connected with him, innocent and guilty alike. Itll
+throw his board and lodging on our rates and taxes for a couple
+of years, and then turn him loose on us a more dangerous
+blackguard than ever. Itll put the girl in prison and ruin her:
+Itll lay his wife's life waste. You may put the criminal law out
+of your head once for all: it's only fit for fools and savages.
+
+LOUIS. Would you mind turning your face a little more this way,
+Sir Patrick. [Sir Patrick turns indignantly and glares at him].
+Oh, thats too much.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Put down your foolish pencil, man; and think of your
+position. You can defy the laws made by men; but there are other
+laws to reckon with. Do you know that youre going to die?
+
+LOUIS. We're all going to die, arnt we?
+
+WALPOLE. We're not all going to die in six months.
+
+LOUIS. How do you know?
+
+This for B. B. is the last straw. He completely loses his temper
+and begins to walk excitedly about.
+
+B. B. Upon my soul, I will not stand this. It is in questionable
+taste under any circumstances or in any company to harp on the
+subject of death; but it is a dastardly advantage to take of a
+medical man. [Thundering at Dubedat] I will not allow it, do you
+hear?
+
+LOUIS. Well, I didn't begin it: you chaps did. It's always the
+way with the inartistic professions: when theyre beaten in
+argument they fall back on intimidation. I never knew a lawyer
+who didnt threaten to put me in prison sooner or later. I never
+knew a parson who didnt threaten me with damnation. And now you
+threaten me with death. With all your talk youve only one real
+trump in your hand, and thats Intimidation. Well, I'm not a
+coward; so it's no use with me.
+
+B. B. [advancing upon him] I'll tell you what you are, sir. Youre
+a scoundrel.
+
+LOUIS. Oh, I don't mind you calling me a scoundrel a bit. It's
+only a word: a word that you dont know the meaning of. What is a
+scoundrel?
+
+B. B. You are a scoundrel, sir.
+
+LOUIS. Just so. What is a scoundrel? I am. What am I? A
+Scoundrel. It's just arguing in a circle. And you imagine youre a
+man of science!
+
+B. B. I--I--I--I have a good mind to take you by the scruff of
+your neck, you infamous rascal, and give you a sound thrashing.
+
+LOUIS. I wish you would. Youd pay me something handsome to keep
+it out of court afterwards. [B. B., baffled, flings away from him
+with a snort]. Have you any more civilities to address to me in
+my own house? I should like to get them over before my wife comes
+back. [He resumes his sketching].
+
+RIDGEON. My mind's made up. When the law breaks down, honest men
+must find a remedy for themselves. I will not lift a finger to
+save this reptile.
+
+B. B. That is the word I was trying to remember. Reptile.
+
+WALPOLE. I cant help rather liking you, Dubedat. But you
+certainly are a thoroughgoing specimen.
+
+SIR PATRICK. You know our opinion of you now, at all events.
+
+LOUIS [patiently putting down his pencil] Look here. All this is
+no good. You dont understand. You imagine that I'm simply an
+ordinary criminal.
+
+WALPOLE. Not an ordinary one, Dubedat. Do yourself justice.
+
+LOUIS. Well youre on the wrong tack altogether. I'm not a
+criminal. All your moralizings have no value for me. I don't
+believe in morality. I'm a disciple of Bernard Shaw.
+
+SIR PATRICK [puzzled] Eh?
+
+B.B. [waving his hand as if the subject was now disposed of]
+Thats enough, I wish to hear no more.
+
+LOUIS. Of course I havnt the ridiculous vanity to set up to be
+exactly a Superman; but still, it's an ideal that I strive
+towards just as any other man strives towards his ideal.
+
+B. B. [intolerant] Dont trouble to explain. I now understand you
+perfectly. Say no more, please. When a man pretends to discuss
+science, morals, and religion, and then avows himself a follower
+of a notorious and avowed anti-vaccinationist, there is nothing
+more to be said. [Suddenly putting in an effusive saving clause
+in parenthesis to Ridgeon] Not, my dear Ridgeon, that I believe
+in vaccination in the popular sense any more than you do: I
+neednt tell you that. But there are things that place a man
+socially; and anti-vaccination is one of them. [He resumes his
+seat on the dais].
+
+SIR PATRICK. Bernard Shaw? I never heard of him. He's a Methodist
+preacher, I suppose.
+
+LOUIS [scandalized] No, no. He's the most advanced man now
+living: he isn't anything.
+
+SIR PATRICK. I assure you, young man, my father learnt the
+doctrine of deliverance from sin from John Wesley's own lips
+before you or Mr. Shaw were born. It used to be very popular as
+an excuse for putting sand in sugar and water in milk. Youre a
+sound Methodist, my lad; only you don't know it.
+
+LOUIS [seriously annoyed for the first time] Its an intellectual
+insult. I don't believe theres such a thing as sin.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well, sir, there are people who dont believe theres
+such a thing as disease either. They call themselves Christian
+Scientists, I believe. Theyll just suit your complaint. We can do
+nothing for you. [He rises]. Good afternoon to you.
+
+LOUIS [running to him piteously] Oh dont get up, Sir Patrick.
+Don't go. Please dont. I didnt mean to shock you, on my word. Do
+sit down again. Give me another chance. Two minutes more: thats
+all I ask.
+
+SIR PATRICK [surprised by this sign of grace, and a little
+touched] Well-- [He sits down]
+
+LOUIS [gratefully] Thanks awfully.
+
+SIR PATRICK [continuing] I don't mind giving you two minutes
+more. But dont address yourself to me; for Ive retired from
+practice; and I dont pretend to be able to cure your complaint.
+Your life is in the hands of these gentlemen.
+
+RIDGEON. Not in mine. My hands are full. I have no time and no
+means available for this case.
+
+SIR PATRICK. What do you say, Mr. Walpole?
+
+WALPOLE. Oh, I'll take him in hand: I dont mind. I feel perfectly
+convinced that this is not a moral case at all: it's a physical
+one. Theres something abnormal about his brain. That means,
+probably, some morbid condition affecting the spinal cord. And
+that means the circulation. In short, it's clear to me that he's
+suffering from an obscure form of blood-poisoning, which is
+almost certainly due to an accumulation of ptomaines in the
+nuciform sac. I'll remove the sac--
+
+LOUIS [changing color] Do you mean, operate on me? Ugh! No, thank
+you.
+
+WALPOLE. Never fear: you wont feel anything. Youll be under an
+anaesthetic, of course. And it will be extraordinarily
+interesting.
+
+LOUIS. Oh, well, if it would interest you, and if it wont hurt,
+thats another matter. How much will you give me to let you do it?
+
+WALPOLE [rising indignantly] How much! What do you mean?
+
+LOUIS. Well, you dont expect me to let you cut me up for nothing,
+do you?
+
+WALPOLE. Will you paint my portrait for nothing?
+
+LOUIS. No; but I'll give you the portrait when its painted; and
+you can sell it afterwards for perhaps double the money. But I
+cant sell my nuciform sac when youve cut it out.
+
+WALPOLE. Ridgeon: did you ever hear anything like this! [To
+Louis] Well, you can keep your nuciform sac, and your tubercular
+lung, and your diseased brain: Ive done with you. One would think
+I was not conferring a favor on the fellow! [He returns to his
+stool in high dudgeon].
+
+SIR PATRICK. That leaves only one medical man who has not
+withdrawn from your case, Mr. Dubedat. You have nobody left to
+appeal to now but Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington.
+
+WALPOLE. If I were you, B. B., I shouldnt touch him with a pair
+of tongs. Let him take his lungs to the Brompton Hospital. They
+wont cure him; but theyll teach him manners.
+
+B. B. My weakness is that I have never been able to say No, even
+to the most thoroughly undeserving people. Besides, I am bound to
+say that I dont think it is possible in medical practice to go
+into the question of the value of the lives we save. Just
+consider, Ridgeon. Let me put it to you, Paddy. Clear your mind
+of cant, Walpole.
+
+WALPOLE [indignantly] My mind is clear of cant.
+
+B. B. Quite so. Well now, look at my practice. It is what I
+suppose you would call a fashionable practice, a smart practice,
+a practice among the best people. You ask me to go into the
+question of whether my patients are of any use either to
+themselves or anyone else. Well, if you apply any scientific test
+known to me, you will achieve a reductio ad absurdum. You will be
+driven to the conclusion that the majority of them would be, as
+my friend Mr J. M. Barrie has tersely phrased it, better dead.
+Better dead. There are exceptions, no doubt. For instance, there
+is the court, an essentially social-democratic institution,
+supported out of public funds by the public because the public
+wants it and likes it. My court patients are hard-working people
+who give satisfaction, undoubtedly. Then I have a duke or two
+whose estates are probably better managed than they would be in
+public hands. But as to most of the rest, if I once began to
+argue about them, unquestionably the verdict would be, Better
+dead. When they actually do die, I sometimes have to offer that
+consolation, thinly disguised, to the family. [Lulled by the
+cadences of his own voice, he becomes drowsier and drowsier]. The
+fact that they spend money so extravagantly on medical attendance
+really would not justify me in wasting my talents--such as they
+are--in keeping them alive. After all, if my fees are high, I
+have to spend heavily. My own tastes are simple: a camp bed, a
+couple of rooms, a crust, a bottle of wine; and I am happy and
+contented. My wife's tastes are perhaps more luxurious; but even
+she deplores an expenditure the sole object of which is to
+maintain the state my patients require from their medical
+attendant. The--er--er--er-- [suddenly waking up] I have lost the
+thread of these remarks. What was I talking about, Ridgeon?
+
+RIDGEON. About Dubedat.
+
+B. B. Ah yes. Precisely. Thank you. Dubedat, of course. Well,
+what is our friend Dubedat? A vicious and ignorant young man with
+a talent for drawing.
+
+LOUIS. Thank you. Dont mind me.
+
+B. B. But then, what are many of my patients? Vicious and
+ignorant young men without a talent for anything. If I were to
+stop to argue about their merits I should have to give up three-
+quarters of my practice. Therefore I have made it a rule not so
+to argue. Now, as an honorable man, having made that rule as to
+paying patients, can I make an exception as to a patient who, far
+from being a paying patient, may more fitly be described as a
+borrowing patient? No. I say No. Mr Dubedat: your moral character
+is nothing to me. I look at you from a purely scientific point of
+view. To me you are simply a field of battle in which an invading
+army of tubercle bacilli struggles with a patriotic force of
+phagocytes. Having made a promise to your wife, which my
+principles will not allow me to break, to stimulate those
+phagocytes, I will stimulate them. And I take no further
+responsibility. [He digs himself back in his seat exhausted].
+
+SIR PATRICK. Well, Mr Dubedat, as Sir Ralph has very kindly
+offered to take charge of your case, and as the two minutes I
+promised you are up, I must ask you to excuse me. [He rises].
+
+LOUIS. Oh, certainly. Ive quite done with you. [Rising and
+holding up the sketch block] There! While youve been talking, Ive
+been doing. What is there left of your moralizing? Only a little
+carbonic acid gas which makes the room unhealthy. What is there
+left of my work? That. Look at it [Ridgeon rises to look at it].
+
+SIR PATRICK [who has come down to him from the throne] You young
+rascal, was it drawing me you were?
+
+LOUIS. Of course. What else?
+
+SIR PATRICK [takes the drawing from him and grunts approvingly]
+Thats rather good. Dont you think so, Lolly?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes. So good that I should like to have it.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Thank you; but _I_ should like to have it myself.
+What d'ye think, Walpole?
+
+WALPOLE [rising and coming over to look] No, by Jove: _I_ must
+have this.
+
+LOUIS. I wish I could afford to give it to you, Sir Patrick. But
+I'd pay five guineas sooner than part with it.
+
+RIDGEON. Oh, for that matter, I will give you six for it.
+
+WALPOLE. Ten.
+
+LOUIS. I think Sir Patrick is morally entitled to it, as he sat
+for it. May I send it to your house, Sir Patrick, for twelve
+guineas?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Twelve guineas! Not if you were President of the
+Royal Academy, young man. [He gives him back the drawing
+decisively and turns away, taking up his hat].
+
+LOUIS [to B. B.] Would you like to take it at twelve, Sir Ralph?
+
+B. B. [coming between Louis and Walpole] Twelve guineas? Thank
+you: I'll take it at that. [He takes it and presents it to Sir
+Patrick]. Accept it from me, Paddy; and may you long be spared to
+contemplate it.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Thank you. [He puts the drawing into his hat].
+
+B. B. I neednt settle with you now, Mr Dubedat: my fees will come
+to more than that. [He also retrieves his hat].
+
+LOUIS [indignantly] Well, of all the mean--[words fail him]! I'd
+let myself be shot sooner than do a thing like that. I consider
+youve stolen that drawing.
+
+SIR PATRICK [drily] So weve converted you to a belief in morality
+after all, eh?
+
+LOUIS. Yah! [To Walpole] I'll do another one for you, Walpole, if
+youll let me have the ten you promised.
+
+WALPOLE. Very good. I'll pay on delivery.
+
+LOUIS. Oh! What do you take me for? Have you no confidence in my
+honor?
+
+WALPOLE. None whatever.
+
+LOUIS. Oh well, of course if you feel that way, you cant help it.
+Before you go, Sir Patrick, let me fetch Jennifer. I know she'd
+like to see you, if you dont mind. [He goes to the inner door].
+And now, before she comes in, one word. Youve all been talking
+here pretty freely about me--in my own house too. I dont mind
+that: I'm a man and can take care of myself. But when Jennifer
+comes in, please remember that she's a lady, and that you are
+supposed to be gentlemen. [He goes out].
+
+WALPOLE. Well!!! [He gives the situation up as indescribable, and
+goes for his hat].
+
+RIDGEON. Damn his impudence!
+
+B. B. I shouldnt be at all surprised to learn that he's well
+connected. Whenever I meet dignity and self-possession without
+any discoverable basis, I diagnose good family.
+
+RIDGEON. Diagnose artistic genius, B. B. Thats what saves his
+self-respect.
+
+SIR PATRICK. The world is made like that. The decent fellows are
+always being lectured and put out of countenance by the snobs.
+
+B. B. [altogether refusing to accept this] _I_ am not out of
+countenance. I should like, by Jupiter, to see the man who could
+put me out of countenance. [Jennifer comes in]. Ah, Mrs.
+Dubedat! And how are we to-day?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [shaking hands with him] Thank you all so much for
+coming. [She shakes Walpole's hand]. Thank you, Sir Patrick [she
+shakes Sir Patrick's]. Oh, life has been worth living since I
+have known you. Since Richmond I have not known a moment's fear.
+And it used to be nothing but fear. Wont you sit down and tell me
+the result of the consultation?
+
+WALPOLE. I'll go, if you dont mind, Mrs. Dubedat. I have an
+appointment. Before I go, let me say that I am quite agreed with
+my colleagues here as to the character of the case. As to the
+cause and the remedy, thats not my business: I'm only a surgeon;
+and these gentlemen are physicians and will advise you. I may
+have my own views: in fact I HAVE them; and they are perfectly
+well known to my colleagues. If I am needed--and needed I shall
+be finally--they know where to find me; and I am always at your
+service. So for to-day, good-bye. [He goes out, leaving Jennifer
+much puzzled by his unexpected withdrawal and formal manner].
+
+SIR PATRICK. I also will ask you to excuse me, Mrs Dubedat.
+
+RIDGEON [anxiously] Are you going?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Yes: I can be of no use here; and I must be getting
+back. As you know, maam, I'm not in practice now; and I shall not
+be in charge of the case. It rests between Sir Colenso Ridgeon
+and Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington. They know my opinion. Good
+afternoon to you, maam. [He bows and makes for the door].
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [detaining him] Theres nothing wrong, is there? You
+dont think Louis is worse, do you?
+
+SIR PATRICK. No: he's not worse. Just the same as at Richmond.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, thank you: you frightened me. Excuse me.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Dont mention it, maam. [He goes out].
+
+B. B. Now, Mrs Dubedat, if I am to take the patient in hand--
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [apprehensively, with a glance at Ridgeon] You! But I
+thought that Sir Colenso--
+
+B. B. [beaming with the conviction that he is giving her a most
+gratifying surprise] My dear lady, your husband shall have Me.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. But--
+
+B. B. Not a word: it is a pleasure to me, for your sake.
+Sir Colenso Ridgeon will be in his proper place, in the
+bacteriological laboratory. _I_ shall be in my proper place, at
+the bedside. Your husband shall be treated exactly as if he were
+a member of the royal family. [Mrs Dubedat, uneasy, again is
+about to protest]. No gratitude: it would embarrass me, I assure
+you. Now, may I ask whether you are particularly tied to these
+apartments. Of course, the motor has annihilated distance; but I
+confess that if you were rather nearer to me, it would be a
+little more convenient.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. You see, this studio and flat are self-contained. I
+have suffered so much in lodgings. The servants are so
+frightfully dishonest.
+
+B. B. Ah ! Are they? Are they? Dear me!
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I was never accustomed to lock things up. And I
+missed so many small sums. At last a dreadful thing happened. I
+missed a five-pound note. It was traced to the housemaid; and she
+actually said Louis had given it to her. And he wouldnt let me do
+anything: he is so sensitive that these things drive him mad.
+
+B. B. Ah--hm--ha--yes--say no more, Mrs. Dubedat: you shall not
+move. If the mountain will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must come
+to the mountain. Now I must be off. I will write and make an
+appointment. We shall begin stimulating the phagocytes on--on--
+probably on Tuesday next; but I will let you know. Depend on me;
+dont fret; eat regularly; sleep well; keep your spirits up; keep
+the patient cheerful; hope for the best; no tonic like a charming
+woman; no medicine like cheerfulness; no resource like science;
+goodbye, good-bye, good-bye. [Having shaken hands--she being too
+overwhelmed to speak--he goes out, stopping to say to Ridgeon] On
+Tuesday morning send me down a tube of some really stiff anti-
+toxin. Any kind will do. Dont forget. Good-bye, Colly. [He goes
+out.]
+
+RIDGEON. You look quite discouraged again. [She is almost in
+tears]. What's the matter? Are you disappointed?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I know I ought to be very grateful. Believe me, I am
+very grateful. But--but--
+
+RIDGEON. Well?
+
+hills DUBEDAT. I had set my heart YOUR curing Louis.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington--
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, I know, I know. It is a great privilege to have
+him. But oh, I wish it had been you. I know it's unreasonable; I
+cant explain; but I had such a strong instinct that you would
+cure him. I dont I cant feel the same about Sir Ralph. You
+promised me. Why did you give Louis up?
+
+RIDGEON. I explained to you. I cannot take another case.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. But at Richmond?
+
+RIDGEON. At Richmond I thought I could make room for one more
+case. But my old friend Dr Blenkinsop claimed that place. His
+lung is attacked.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [attaching no importance whatever to Blenkinsop] Do
+you mean that elderly man--that rather--
+
+RIDGEON [sternly] I mean the gentleman that dined with us: an
+excellent and honest man, whose life is as valuable as anyone
+else's. I have arranged that I shall take his case, and that Sir
+Ralph Bloomfield Bonington shall take Mr Dubedat's.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [turning indignantly on him] I see what it is. Oh! it
+is envious, mean, cruel. And I thought that you would be above
+such a thing.
+
+RIDGEON. What do you mean?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, do you think I dont know? do you think it has
+never happened before? Why does everybody turn against him? Can
+you not forgive him for being superior to you? for being
+cleverer? for being braver? for being a great artist?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes: I can forgive him for all that.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Well, have you anything to say against him? I have
+challenged everyone who has turned against him--challenged them
+face to face to tell me any wrong thing he has done, any ignoble
+thought he has uttered. They have always confessed that they
+could not tell me one. I challenge you now. What do you accuse
+him of?
+
+RIDGEON. I am like all the rest. Face to face, I cannot tell you
+one thing against him.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [not satisfied] But your manner is changed. And you
+have broken your promise to me to make room for him as your
+patient.
+
+RIDGEON. I think you are a little unreasonable. You have had the
+very best medical advice in London for him; and his case has been
+taken in hand by a leader of the profession. Surely--
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, it is so cruel to keep telling me that. It seems
+all right; and it puts me in the wrong. But I am not in the
+wrong. I have faith in you; and I have no faith in the others. We
+have seen so many doctors: I have come to know at last when they
+are only talking and can do nothing. It is different with you. I
+feel that you know. You must listen to me, doctor. [With sudden
+misgiving] Am I offending you by calling you doctor instead of
+remembering your title?
+
+RIDGEON. Nonsense. I AM a doctor. But mind you, dont call Walpole
+one.
+
+MRS DUBEBAT. I dont care about Mr Walpole: it is you who must
+befriend me. Oh, will you please sit down and listen to me just
+for a few minutes. [He assents with a grave inclination, and sits
+on the sofa. She sits on the easel chair] Thank you. I wont keep
+you long; but I must tell you the whole truth. Listen. I know
+Louis as nobody else in the world knows him or ever can know him.
+I am his wife. I know he has little faults: impatiences,
+sensitivenesses, even little selfishnesses that are too trivial
+for him to notice. I know that he sometimes shocks people about
+money because he is so utterly above it, and cant understand the
+value ordinary people set on it. Tell me: did he--did he borrow
+any money from you?
+
+RIDGEON. He asked me for some once.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [tears again in her eyes] Oh, I am so sorry--so
+sorry. But he will never do it again: I pledge you my word for
+that. He has given me his promise: here in this room just before
+you came; and he is incapable of breaking his word. That was his
+only real weakness; and now it is conquered and done with for
+ever.
+
+RIDGEON. Was that really his only weakness?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. He is perhaps sometimes weak about women, because
+they adore him so, and are always laying traps for him. And of
+course when he says he doesnt believe in morality, ordinary pious
+people think he must be wicked. You can understand, cant you, how
+all this starts a great deal of gossip about him, and gets
+repeated until even good friends get set against him?
+
+RIDGEON. Yes: I understand.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, if you only knew the other side of him as I do!
+Do you know, doctor, that if Louis honored himself by a really
+bad action, I should kill myself.
+
+RIDGEON. Come! dont exaggerate.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I should. You don't understand that, you east
+country people.
+
+RIDGEON. You did not see much of the world in Cornwall, did you?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [naively] Oh yes. I saw a great deal every day of the
+beauty of the world--more than you ever see here in London. But I
+saw very few people, if that is what you mean. I was an only
+child.
+
+RIDGEON. That explains a good deal.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I had a great many dreams; but at last they all came
+to one dream.
+
+RIDGEON [with half a sigh] Yes, the usual dream.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [surprised] Is it usual?
+
+RIDGEON. As I guess. You havnt yet told me what it was.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I didn't want to waste myself. I could do nothing
+myself; but I had a little property and I could help with it. I
+had even a little beauty: dont think me vain for knowing it. I
+always had a terrible struggle with poverty and neglect at first.
+My dream was to save one of them from that, and bring some charm
+and happiness into his life. I prayed Heaven to send me one. I
+firmly believe that Louis was guided to me in answer to my
+prayer. He was no more like the other men I had met than the
+Thames Embankment is like our Cornish coasts. He saw everything
+that I saw, and drew it for me. He understood everything. He came
+to me like a child. Only fancy, doctor: he never even wanted to
+marry me: he never thought of the things other men think of! I
+had to propose it myself. Then he said he had no money. When I
+told him I had some, he said "Oh, all right," just like a boy. He
+is still like that, quite unspoiled, a man in his thoughts, a
+great poet and artist in his dreams, and a child in his ways. I
+gave him myself and all I had that he might grow to his full
+height with plenty of sunshine. If I lost faith in him, it would
+mean the wreck and failure of my life. I should go back to
+Cornwall and die. I could show you the very cliff I should jump
+off. You must cure him: you must make him quite well again for
+me. I know that you can do it and that nobody else can. I implore
+you not to refuse what I am going to ask you to do. Take Louis
+yourself; and let Sir Ralph cure Dr Blenkinsop.
+
+RIDGEON [slowly] Mrs Dubedat: do you really believe in my
+knowledge and skill as you say you do?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Absolutely. I do not give my trust by halves.
+
+RIDGEON. I know that. Well, I am going to test you--hard. Will
+you believe me when I tell you that I understand what you have
+just told me; that I have no desire but to serve you in the most
+faithful friendship; and that your hero must be preserved to you.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh forgive me. Forgive what I said. You will
+preserve him to me.
+
+RIDGEON. At all hazards. [She kisses his hand. He rises hastily].
+No: you have not heard the rest. [She rises too]. You must
+believe me when I tell you that the one chance of preserving the
+hero lies in Louis being in the care of Sir Ralph.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [firmly] You say so: I have no more doubt: I believe
+you. Thank you.
+
+RIDGEON. Good-bye. [She takes his hand]. I hope this will be a
+lasting friendship.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. It will. My friendships end only with death.
+
+RIDGEON. Death ends everything, doesnt it? Goodbye.
+
+With a sigh and a look of pity at her which she does not
+understand, he goes.
+
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+The studio. The easel is pushed back to the wall. Cardinal Death,
+holding his scythe and hour-glass like a sceptre and globe, sits
+on the throne. On the hat-stand hang the hats of Sir Patrick and
+Bloomfield Bonington. Walpole, just come in, is hanging up his
+beside them. There is a knock. He opens the door and finds
+Ridgeon there.
+
+WALPOLE. Hallo, Ridgeon!
+
+They come into the middle of the room together, taking off their
+gloves.
+
+RIDGEON. Whats the matter! Have you been sent for, too?
+
+WALPOLE. Weve all been sent for. Ive only just come: I havnt seen
+him yet. The charwoman says that old Paddy Cullen has been here
+with B. B. for the last half-hour. [Sir Patrick, with bad news in
+his face, enters from the inner room]. Well: whats up?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Go in and see. B. B. is in there with him.
+
+Walpole goes. Ridgeon is about to follow him; but Sir Patrick
+stops him with a look.
+
+RIDGEON. What has happened?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Do you remember Jane Marsh's arm?
+
+RIDGEON. Is that whats happened?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Thats whats happened. His lung has gone like Jane's
+arm. I never saw such a case. He has got through three months
+galloping consumption in three days.
+
+RIDGEON. B. B. got in on the negative phase.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Negative or positive, the lad's done for. He wont
+last out the afternoon. He'll go suddenly: Ive often seen it.
+
+RIDGEON. So long as he goes before his wife finds him out, I dont
+care. I fully expected this.
+
+SIR PATRICK [drily] It's a little hard on a lad to be killed
+because his wife has too high an opinion of him. Fortunately few
+of us are in any danger of that.
+
+Sir Ralph comes from the inner room and hastens between them,
+humanely concerned, but professionally elate and communicative.
+
+B. B. Ah, here you are, Ridgeon. Paddy's told you, of course.
+
+RIDGEON. Yes.
+
+B. B. It's an enormously interesting case. You know, Colly, by
+Jupiter, if I didnt know as a matter of scientific fact that I'd
+been stimulating the phagocytes, I should say I'd been
+stimulating the other things. What is the explanation of it, Sir
+Patrick? How do you account for it, Ridgeon? Have we over-
+stimulated the phagocytes? Have they not only eaten up the
+bacilli, but attacked and destroyed the red corpuscles as well? a
+possibility suggested by the patient's pallor. Nay, have they
+finally begun to prey on the lungs themselves? Or on one another?
+I shall write a paper about this case.
+
+Walpole comes back, very serious, even shocked. He comes between
+B. B. and Ridgeon.
+
+WALPOLE. Whew! B. B.: youve done it this time.
+
+B. B. What do you mean?
+
+WALPOLE. Killed him. The worst case of neglected blood-poisoning
+I ever saw. It's too late now to do anything. He'd die under the
+anaesthetic.
+
+B. B. [offended] Killed! Really, Walpole, if your monomania were
+not well known, I should take such an expession very seriously.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Come come! When youve both killed as many people as
+I have in my time youll feel humble enough about it. Come and
+look at him, Colly.
+
+Ridgeon and Sir Patrick go into the inner room.
+
+WALPOLE. I apologize, B. B. But it's blood-poisoning.
+
+B. B. [recovering his irresistible good nature] My dear Walpole,
+everything is blood-poisoning. But upon my soul, I shall not use
+any of that stuff of Ridgeon's again. What made me so sensitive
+about what you said just now is that, strictly between ourselves,
+Ridgeon cooked our young friend's goose.
+
+Jennifer, worried and distressed, but always gentle, comes
+between them from the inner room. She wears a nurse's apron.
+
+MRS. DUBEDAT. Sir Ralph: what am I to do? That man who insisted
+on seeing me, and sent in word that business was important to
+Louis, is a newspaper man. A paragraph appeared in the paper this
+morning saying that Louis is seriously ill; and this man wants to
+interview him about it. How can people be so brutally callous?
+
+WALPOLE [moving vengefully towards the door] You just leave me to
+deal with him!
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [stopping him] But Louis insists on seeing him: he
+almost began to cry about it. And he says he cant bear his room
+any longer. He says he wants to [she struggles with a sob]--to
+die in his studio. Sir Patrick says let him have his way: it can
+do no harm. What shall we do?
+
+B B. [encouragingly] Why, follow Sir Patrick's excellent advice,
+of course. As he says, it can do him no harm; and it will no
+doubt do him good--a great deal of good. He will be much the
+better for it.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [a little cheered] Will you bring the man up here, Mr
+Walpole, and tell him that he may see Louis, but that he mustnt
+exhaust him by talking? [Walpole nods and goes out by the outer
+door]. Sir Ralph, dont be angry with me; but Louis will die if he
+stays here. I must take him to Cornwall. He will recover there.
+
+B. B. [brightening wonderfully, as if Dubedat were already saved]
+Cornwall! The very place for him! Wonderful for the lungs. Stupid
+of me not to think of it before. You are his best physician after
+all, dear lady. An inspiration! Cornwall: of course, yes, yes,
+yes.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [comforted and touched] You are so kind, Sir Ralph.
+But dont give me much or I shall cry; and Louis cant bear that.
+
+B. B. [gently putting his protecting arm round her shoulders]
+Then let us come back to him and help to carry him in. Cornwall!
+of course, of course. The very thing! [They go together into the
+bedroom].
+
+Walpole returns with The Newspaper Man, a cheerful, affable young
+man who is disabled for ordinary business pursuits by a
+congenital erroneousness which renders him incapable of
+describing accurately anything he sees, or understanding or
+reporting accurately anything he hears. As the only employment in
+which these defects do not matter is journalism (for a newspaper,
+not having to act on its description and reports, but only to
+sell them to idly curious people, has nothing but honor to lose
+by inaccuracy and unveracity), he has perforce become a
+journalist, and has to keep up an air of high spirits through a
+daily struggle with his own illiteracy and the precariousness of
+his employment. He has a note-book, and ocasionally attempts to
+make a note; but as he cannot write shorthand, and does not write
+with ease in any hand, he generally gives it up as a bad job
+before he succeeds in finishing a sentence.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN [looking round and making indecisive attempts
+at notes] This is the studio, I suppose.
+
+WALPOLE. Yes.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN [wittily] Where he has his models, eh?
+
+WALPOLE [grimly irresponsive] No doubt.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. Cubicle, you said it was?
+
+WALPOLE. Yes, tubercle.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. Which way do you spell it: is it c-u-b-i-c-a-l
+or c-l-e?
+
+WALPOLE. Tubercle, man, not cubical. [Spelling it for him] T-u-b-
+e-r-c-l-e.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. Oh! tubercle. Some disease, I suppose. I
+thought he had consumption. Are you one of the family or the
+doctor?
+
+WALPOLE. I'm neither one nor the other. I am Mister Cutler
+Walpole. Put that down. Then put down Sir Colenso Ridgeon.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. Pigeon?
+
+WALPOLE. Ridgeon. [Contemptuously snatching his book] Here: youd
+better let me write the names down for you: youre sure to get
+them wrong. That comes of belonging to an illiterate profession,
+with no qualifications and no public register. [He writes the
+particulars].
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. Oh, I say: you have got your knife into us,
+havnt you?
+
+WALPOLE [vindictively] I wish I had: I'd make a better man of
+you. Now attend. [Shewing him the book] These are the names of
+the three doctors. This is the patient. This is the address. This
+is the name of the disease. [He shuts the book with a snap which
+makes the journalist blink, and returns it to him]. Mr Dubedat
+will be brought in here presently. He wants to see you because he
+doesnt know how bad he is. We'll allow you to wait a few minutes
+to humor him; but if you talk to him, out you go. He may die at
+any moment.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN [interested] Is he as bad as that? I say: I am
+in luck to-day. Would you mind letting me photograph you? [He
+produces a camera]. Could you have a lancet or something in your
+hand?
+
+WALPOLE. Put it up. If you want my photograph you can get it in
+Baker Street in any of the series of celebrities.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. But theyll want to be paid. If you wouldnt
+mind [fingering the camera]--?
+
+WALPOLE. I would. Put it up, I tell you. Sit down there and be
+quiet.
+
+The Newspaper Man quickly sits down on the piano stool as
+Dubedat, in an invalid's chair, is wheeled in by Mrs Dubedat and
+Sir Ralph. They place the chair between the dais and the sofa,
+where the easel stood before. Louis is not changed as a robust
+man would be; and he is not scared. His eyes look larger; and he
+is so weak physically that he can hardly move, lying on his
+cushions, with complete languor; but his mind is active; it is
+making the most of his condition, finding voluptuousness in
+languor and drama in death. They are all impressed, in spite of
+themselves, except Ridgeon, who is implacable. B.B. is entirely
+sympathetic and forgiving. Ridgeon follows the chair with a tray
+of milk and stimulants. Sir Patrick, who accompanies him, takes
+the tea-table from the corner and places it behind the chair for
+the tray. B. B. takes the easel chair and places it for Jennifer
+at Dubedat's side, next the dais, from which the lay figure ogles
+the dying artist. B. B. then returns to Dubedat's left. Jennifer
+sits. Walpole sits down on the edge of the dais. Ridgeon stands
+near him.
+
+LOUIS [blissfully] Thats happiness! To be in a  studio!
+Happiness!
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, dear. Sir Patrick says you may stay here as
+long as you like.
+
+LOUIS. Jennifer.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, my darling.
+
+LOUIS. Is the newspaper man here?
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN [glibly] Yes, Mr Dubedat: I'm here, at your
+service. I represent the press. I thought you might like to let
+us have a few words about--about--er--well, a few words on your
+illness, and your plans for the season.
+
+LOUIS. My plans for the season are very simple. I'm going to die.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [tortured] Louis--dearest--
+
+LOUIS. My darling: I'm very weak and tired. Dont put on me the
+horrible strain of pretending that I dont know. Ive been lying
+there listening to the doctors--laughing to myself. They know.
+Dearest: dont cry. It makes you ugly; and I cant bear that. [She
+dries her eyes and recovers herself with a proud effort]. I want
+you to promise me something.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, yes: you know I will. [Imploringly] Only, my
+love, my love, dont talk: it will waste your strength.
+
+LOUIS. No: it will only use it up. Ridgeon: give me something to
+keep me going for a few minutes--one of your confounded anti-
+toxins, if you dont mind. I have some things to say before I go.
+
+RIDGEON [looking at Sir Patrick] I suppose it can do no harm? [He
+pours out some spirit, and is about to add soda water when Sir
+Patrick corrects him].
+
+SIR PATRICK. In milk. Dont set him coughing.
+
+LOUIS [after drinking] Jennifer.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, dear.
+
+LOUIS. If theres one thing I hate more than another, it's a
+widow. Promise me that youll never be a widow.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. My dear, what do you mean?
+
+LOUIS. I want you to look beautiful. I want people to see in your
+eyes that you were married to me. The people in Italy used to
+point at Dante and say "There goes the man who has been in hell."
+I want them to point at you and say "There goes a woman who has
+been in heaven." It has been heaven, darling, hasnt it--
+sometimes?
+
+MRs DUBEDAT. Oh yes, yes. Always, always.
+
+LOUIS. If you wear black and cry, people will say "Look at that
+miserable woman: her husband made her miserable."
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. No, never. You are the light and the blessing of my
+life. I never lived until I knew you.
+
+LOUIS [his eyes glistening] Then you must always wear beautiful
+dresses and splendid magic jewels. Think of all the wonderful
+pictures I shall never paint.
+
+[She wins a terrible victory over a sob] Well, you must be
+transfigured with all the beauty of those pictures. Men must get
+such dreams from seeing you as they never could get from any
+daubing with paints and brushes. Painters must paint you as they
+never painted any mortal woman before. There must be a great
+tradition of beauty, a great atmosphere of wonder and romance.
+That is what men must always think of when they think of me.
+That is the sort of immortality I want. You can make that for me,
+Jennifer. There are lots of things you dont understand that every
+woman in the street understands; but you can understand that and
+do it as nobody else can. Promise me that immortality. Promise me
+you will not make a little hell of crape and crying and
+undertaker's horrors and withering flowers and all that vulgar
+rubbish.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I promise. But all that is far off, dear. You are to
+come to Cornwall with me and get well. Sir Ralph says so.
+
+LOUIS. Poor old B. B.
+
+B. B. [affected to tears, turns away and whispers to Sir Patrick]
+Poor fellow! Brain going.
+
+LOUIS. Sir Patrick's there, isn't he?
+
+SIR PATRICK. Yes, yes. I'm here.
+
+LOUIS. Sit down, wont you? It's a shame to keep you standing
+about.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Yes, Yes. Thank you. All right.
+
+LOUIS. Jennifer.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, dear.
+
+LOUIS [with a strange look of delight] Do you remember the
+burning bush?
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, Yes. Oh, my dear, how it strains my heart to
+remember it now!
+
+LOUIS. Does it? It fills me with joy. Tell them about it.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. It was nothing--only that once in my old Cornish
+home we lit the first fire of the winter; and when we looked
+through the window we saw the flames dancing in a bush in the
+garden.
+
+LOUIS. Such a color! Garnet color. Waving like silk. Liquid
+lovely flame flowing up through the bay leaves, and not burning
+them. Well, I shall be a flame like that. I'm sorry to disappoint
+the poor little worms; but the last of me shall be the flame in
+the burning bush. Whenever you see the flame, Jennifer, that will
+be me. Promise me that I shall be burnt.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, if I might be with you, Louis!
+
+LOUIS. No: you must always be in the garden when the bush flames.
+You are my hold on the world: you are my immortality. Promise.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. I'm listening. I shall not forget. You know that I
+promise.
+
+LOUIS. Well, thats about all; except that you are to hang my
+pictures at the one-man show. I can trust your eye. You wont let
+anyone else touch them.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. You can trust me.
+
+LOUIS. Then theres nothing more to worry about, is there? Give me
+some more of that milk. I'm fearfully tired; but if I stop
+talking I shant begin again. [Sir Ralph gives him a drink. He
+takes it and looks up quaintly]. I say, B. B., do you think
+anything would stop you talking?
+
+B. B. [almost unmanned] He confuses me with you, Paddy. Poor
+fellow! Poor fellow!
+
+LOUIS [musing] I used to be awfully afraid of death; but now it's
+come I have no fear; and I'm perfectly happy. Jennifer.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, dear?
+
+LOUIS. I'll tell you a secret. I used to think that our marriage
+was all an affectation, and that I'd break loose and run away
+some day. But now that I'm going to be broken loose whether I
+like it or not, I'm perfectly fond of you, and perfectly
+satisfied because I'm going to live as part of you and not as my
+troublesome self.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [heartbroken] Stay with me, Louis. Oh, dont leave me,
+dearest.
+
+LOUIS. Not that I'm selfish. With all my faults I dont think Ive
+ever been really selfish. No artist can: Art is too large for
+that. You will marry again, Jennifer.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, how can you, Louis?
+
+LOUIS [insisting childishly] Yes, because people who have found
+marriage happy always marry again. Ah, I shant be jealous.
+[Slyly.] But dont talk to the other fellow too much about me: he
+wont like it. [Almost chuckling] I shall be your lover all the
+time; but it will be a secret from him, poor devil!
+
+SIR PATRICK. Come! youve talked enough. Try to rest awhile.
+
+LOUIS [wearily] Yes: I'm fearfully tired; but I shall have a long
+rest presently. I have something to say to you fellows. Youre all
+there, arnt you? I'm too weak to see anything but Jennifer's
+bosom. That promises rest.
+
+RIDGEON. We are all here.
+
+LOUIS [startled] That voice sounded devilish. Take care,
+Ridgeon: my ears hear things that other people's cant. Ive been
+thinking--thinking. I'm cleverer than you imagine.
+
+SIR PATRICK [whispering to Ridgeon] Youve got on his nerves,
+Colly. Slip out quietly.
+
+RIDGEON [apart to Sir Patrick] Would you deprive the dying actor
+of his audience?
+
+LOUIS [his face lighting up faintly with mischievous glee] I
+heard that, Ridgeon. That was good. Jennifer dear: be kind to
+Ridgeon always; because he was the last man who amused me.
+
+RIDGEON [relentless] Was I?
+
+LOUIS. But it's not true. It's you who are still on the stage.
+I'm half way home already.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [to Ridgeon] What did you say?
+
+LOUIS [answering for him] Nothing, dear. Only one of those
+little secrets that men keep among themselves. Well, all you
+chaps have thought pretty hard things of me, and said them.
+
+B. B. [quite overcome] No, no, Dubedat. Not at all.
+
+LOUIS. Yes, you have. I know what you all think of me. Dont
+imagine I'm sore about it. I forgive you.
+
+WALPOLE [involuntarily] Well, damn me! [Ashamed] I beg your
+pardon.
+
+LOUIS. That was old Walpole, I know. Don't grieve, Walpole. I'm
+perfectly happy. I'm not in pain. I don't want to live. Ive
+escaped from myself. I'm in heaven, immortal in the heart of my
+beautiful Jennifer. I'm not afraid, and not ashamed.
+[Reflectively, puzzling it out for himself weakly] I know that in
+an accidental sort of way, struggling through the unreal part of
+life, I havnt always been able to live up to my ideal. But in my
+own real world I have never done anything wrong, never denied my
+faith, never been untrue to myself. Ive been threatened and
+blackmailed and insulted and starved. But Ive played the game.
+Ive fought the good fight. And now it's all over, theres an
+indescribable peace. [He feebly folds his hands and utters his
+creed] I believe in Michael Angelo, Velasquez, and Rembrandt; in
+the might of design, the mystery of color, the redemption of all
+things by Beauty everlasting, and the message of Art that has
+made these hands blessed. Amen. Amen. [He closes his eyes and
+lies still].
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [breathless] Louis: are you--
+
+Walpole rises and comes quickly to see whether he is dead.
+
+LOUIS. Not yet, dear. Very nearly, but not yet. I should like to
+rest my head on your bosom; only it would tire you.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. No, no, no, darling: how could you tire me? [She
+lifts him so that he lies on her bosom].
+
+LOUIS. Thats good. Thats real.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Dont spare me, dear. Indeed, indeed you will not
+tire me. Lean on me with all your weight.
+
+LOUIS [with a sudden half return of his normal strength and
+comfort] Jinny Gwinny: I think I shall recover after all. [Sir
+Patrick looks significantly at Ridgeon, mutely warning him that
+this is the end].
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [hopefully] Yes, yes: you shall.
+
+LOUIS. Because I suddenly want to sleep. Just an ordinary sleep.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [rocking him] Yes, dear. Sleep. [He seems to go to
+sleep. Walpole makes another movement. She protests]. Sh--sh:
+please dont disturb him. [His lips move]. What did you say, dear?
+[In great distress] I cant listen without moving him. [His lips
+move again; Walpole bends down and listens].
+
+WALPOLE. He wants to know is the newspaper man here.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN [excited; for he has been enjoying himself
+enormously] Yes, Mr Dubedat. Here I am.
+
+Walpole raises his hand warningly to silence him. Sir Ralph sits
+down quietly on the sofa and frankly buries his face in his
+handkerchief.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [with great relief] Oh thats right, dear: dont spare
+me: lean with all your weight on me. Now you are really resting.
+
+Sir Patrick quickly comes forward and feels Louis's pulse; then
+takes him by the shoulders.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Let me put him back on the pillow, maam. He will be
+better so.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [piteously] Oh no, please, please, doctor. He is not
+tiring me; and he will be so hurt when he wakes if he finds I
+have put him away.
+
+SIR PATRICK. He will never wake again. [He takes the body from
+her and replaces it in the chair. Ridgeon, unmoved, lets down the
+back and makes a bier of it].
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [who has unexpectedly sprung to her feet, and stands
+dry-eyed and stately] Was that death?
+
+WALPOLE. Yes.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [with complete dignity] Will you wait for me a
+moment? I will come back. [She goes out].
+
+WALPOLE. Ought we to follow her? Is she in her right senses?
+
+SIR PATRICK [with quiet conviction]. Yes. Shes all right. Leave
+her alone. She'll come back.
+
+RIDGEON [callously] Let us get this thing out of the way before
+she comes.
+
+B. B. [rising, shocked] My dear Colly! The poor lad! He died
+splendidly.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Aye! that is how the wicked die.
+
+      For there are no bands in their death;
+      But their strength is firm:
+      They are not in trouble as other men.
+
+No matter: its not for us to judge. Hes in another world now.
+
+WALPOLE. Borrowing his first five-pound note there, probably.
+
+RIDGEON. I said the other day that the most tragic thing in the
+world is a sick doctor. I was wrong. The most tragic thing in the
+world is a man of genius who is not also a man of honor.
+
+Ridgeon and Walpole wheel the chair into the recess.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN [to Sir Ralph] I thought it shewed a very nice
+feeling, his being so particular about his wife going into proper
+mourning for him and making her promise never to marry again.
+
+B. B. [impressively] Mrs Dubedat is not in a position to carry
+the interview any further. Neither are we.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Good afternoon to you.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. Mrs. Dubedat said she was coming back.
+
+B. B. After you have gone.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. Do you think she would give me a few words on
+How It Feels to be a Widow? Rather a good title for an article,
+isnt it?
+
+B. B. Young man: if you wait until Mrs Dubedat comes back, you
+will be able to write an article on How It Feels to be Turned Out
+of the House.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN [unconvinced] You think she'd rather not--
+
+B. B. [cutting him short] Good day to you. [Giving him a
+visiting-card] Mind you get my name correctly. Good day.
+
+THE NEWSPAPER MAN. Good day. Thank you. [Vaguely trying to read
+the card] Mr--
+
+B. B. No, not Mister. This is your hat, I think [giving it to
+him]. Gloves? No, of course: no gloves. Good day to you. [He
+edges him out at last; shuts the door on him; and returns to Sir
+Patrick as Ridgeon and Walpole come back from the recess, Walpole
+crossing the room to the hat-stand, and Ridgeon coming between
+Sir Ralph and Sir Patrick]. Poor fellow! Poor young
+fellow! How well he died! I feel a better man, really.
+
+SIR PATRICK. When youre as old as I am, youll know that it
+matters very little how a man dies. What matters is, how he
+lives. Every fool that runs his nose against a bullet is a hero
+nowadays, because he dies for his country. Why dont he live for
+it to some purpose?
+
+B. B. No, please, Paddy: dont be hard on the poor lad. Not now,
+not now. After all, was he so bad? He had only two failings:
+money and women. Well, let us be honest. Tell the truth, Paddy.
+Dont be hypocritical, Ridgeon. Throw off the mask, Walpole. Are
+these two matters so well arranged at present that a disregard of
+the usual arrangements indicates real depravity?
+
+WALPOLE. I dont mind his disregarding the usual arrangements.
+Confound the usual arrangements! To a man of science theyre
+beneath contempt both as to money and women. What I mind is his
+disregarding everything except his own pocket and his own fancy.
+He didn't disregard the usual arrangements when they paid
+him. Did he give us his pictures for nothing? Do you suppose he'd
+have hesitated to blackmail me if I'd compromised myself with his
+wife? Not he.
+
+SIR PATRICK. Dont waste your time wrangling over him. A
+blackguard's a blackguard; an honest man's an honest man; and
+neither of them will ever be at a loss for a religion or a
+morality to prove that their ways are the right ways. It's the
+same with nations, the same with professions, the same all the
+world over and always will be.
+
+B. B. Ah, well, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Still, de mortuis nil
+nisi bonum. He died extremely well, remarkably well. He has set
+us an example: let us endeavor to follow it rather than harp on
+the weaknesses that have perished with him. I think it is
+Shakespear who says that the good that most men do lives after
+them: the evil lies interred with their bones. Yes: interred with
+their bones. Believe me, Paddy, we are all mortal. It is the
+common lot, Ridgeon. Say what you will, Walpole, Nature's debt
+must be paid. If tis not to-day, twill be to-morrow.
+
+     To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
+     After life's fitful fever they sleep well
+     And like this insubstantial bourne from which
+     No traveller returns
+     Leave not a wrack behind.
+
+Walpole is about to speak, but B. B., suddenly and
+vehemently proceeding, extinguishes him.
+
+     Out, out, brief candle:
+     For nothing canst thou to damnation add
+     The readiness is all.
+
+WALPOLE [gently; for B. B.'s feeling, absurdly expressed as it
+is, is too sincere and humane to be ridiculed] Yes, B. B. Death
+makes people go on like that. I dont know why it should; but it
+does. By the way, what are we going to do? Ought we to clear out;
+or had we better wait and see whether Mrs Dubedat will come back?
+
+SIR PATRICK. I think we'd better go. We can tell the charwoman
+what to do.
+
+They take their hats and go to the door.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [coming from the inner door wonderfully and
+beautifully dressed, and radiant, carrying a great piece of
+purple silk, handsomely embroidered, over her arm] I'm so sorry
+to have kept you waiting.
+
+SIR PATRICK }  [amazed, all   { Dont mention it, madam.
+B.B.        }   together      { Not at all, not at all.
+RIDGEON     }   in a confused { By no means.
+WALPOLE     }   murmur]       { It doesnt matter in the least.
+
+MRS. DUBEDAT [coming to them] I felt that I must shake hands with
+his friends once before we part to-day. We have shared together a
+great privilege and a great happiness. I dont think we can ever
+think of ourselves ordinary people again. We have had a wonderful
+experience; and that gives us a common faith, a common ideal,
+that nobody else can quite have. Life will always be beautiful to
+us: death will always be beautiful to us. May we shake hands on
+that?
+
+SIR PATRICK [shaking hands] Remember: all letters had better be
+left to your solicitor. Let him open everything and settle
+everything. Thats the law, you know.
+
+MRS DUBEDAT. Oh, thank you: I didnt know. [Sir Patrick goes].
+
+WALPOLE. Good-bye. I blame myself: I should have insisted on
+operating. [He goes].
+
+B.B. I will send the proper people: they will know it to do: you
+shall have no trouble. Good-bye, my dear lady. [He goes].
+
+RIDGEON. Good-bye. [He offers his hand].
+
+MRS DUBEDAT [drawing back with gentle majesty] I said his
+friends, Sir Colenso. [He bows and goes].
+
+She unfolds the great piece of silk, and goes into the recess to
+cover her dead.
+
+
+
+ACT V
+
+One of the smaller Bond Street Picture Galleries. The entrance is
+from a picture shop. Nearly in the middle of the gallery there is
+a writing-table, at which the Secretary, fashionably dressed,
+sits with his back to the entrance, correcting catalogue proofs.
+Some copies of a new book are on the desk, also the Secretary's
+shining hat and a couple of magnifying glasses. At the side, on
+his left, a little behind him, is a small door marked PRIVATE.
+Near the same side is a cushioned bench parallel to the walls,
+which are covered with Dubedat's works. Two screens, also covered
+with drawings, stand near the corners right and left of the
+entrance.
+
+Jennifer, beautifully dressed and apparently very happy and
+prosperous, comes into the gallery through the private door.
+
+JENNIFER. Have the catalogues come yet, Mr Danby?
+
+THE SECRETARY. Not yet.
+
+JENNIFER. What a shame! It's a quarter past: the private view
+will begin in less than half an hour.
+
+THE SECRETARY. I think I'd better run over to the printers to
+hurry them up.
+
+JENNIFER. Oh, if you would be so good, Mr Danby. I'll take your
+place while youre away.
+
+THE SECRETARY. If anyone should come before the time dont take
+any notice. The commissionaire wont let anyone through unless he
+knows him. We have a few people who like to come before the
+crowd--people who really buy; and of course we're glad to see
+them. Have you seen the notices in Brush and Crayon and in The
+Easel?
+
+JENNIFER [indignantly] Yes: most disgraceful. They write quite
+patronizingly, as if they were Mr Dubedat's superiors. After all
+the cigars and sandwiches they had from us on the press day, and
+all they drank, I really think it is infamous that they should
+write like that. I hope you have not sent them tickets for to-
+day.
+
+THE SECRETARY. Oh, they wont come again: theres no lunch to-day.
+The advance copies of your book have come. [He indicates the new
+books].
+
+JENNIFER [pouncing on a copy, wildly excited] Give it to me. Oh!
+excuse me a moment [she runs away with it through the private
+door].
+
+The Secretary takes a mirror from his drawer and smartens himself
+before going out. Ridgeon comes in.
+
+RIDGEON. Good morning. May I look round, as well, before the
+doors open?
+
+THE SECRETARY. Certainly, Sir Colenso. I'm sorry catalogues have
+not come: I'm just going to see about them. Heres my own list, if
+you dont mind.
+
+RIDGEON. Thanks. Whats this? [He takes up one the new books].
+
+THE SECRETARY. Thats just come in. An advance copy of Mrs
+Dubedat's Life of her late husband.
+
+RIDGEON [reading the title] The Story of a King By His Wife. [He
+looks at the portrait frontise]. Ay: there he is. You knew him
+here, I suppose.
+
+THE SECRETARY. Oh, we knew him. Better than she did, Sir Colenso,
+in some ways, perhaps.
+
+RIDGEON. So did I. [They look significantly at one another]. I'll
+take a look round.
+
+The Secretary puts on the shining hat and goes out. Ridgeon
+begins looking at the pictures. Presently he comes back to the
+table for a magnifying glass, and scrutinizes a drawing very
+closely. He sighs; shakes his head, as if constrained to admit
+the extraordinary fascination and merit of the work; then marks
+the Secretary's list. Proceeding with his survey, he disappears
+behind the screen. Jennifer comes back with her book. A look
+round satisfies her that she is alone. She seats herself at the
+table and admires the memoir--her first printed book--to her
+heart's content. Ridgeon re-appears, face to the wall,
+scrutinizing the drawings. After using his glass again, he steps
+back to get a more distant view of one of the larger pictures.
+She hastily closes the book at the sound; looks round; recognizes
+him; and stares, petrified. He takes a further step back which
+brings him nearer to her.
+
+RIDGEON [shaking his head as before, ejaculates] Clever brute!
+[She flushes as though he had struck her. He turns to put the
+glass down on the desk, and finds himself face to face with her
+intent gaze]. I beg your pardon. I thought I was alone.
+
+JENNIFER [controlling herself, and speaking steadily and
+meaningly] I am glad we have met, Sir Colenso Ridgeon. I met Dr
+Blenkinsop yesterday. I congratulate you on a wonderful cure.
+
+RIDGEON [can find no words; makes an embarrassed gesture of
+assent after a moment's silence, and puts down the glass and the
+Secretary's list on the table].
+
+JENNIFER. He looked the picture of health and strength and
+prosperity. [She looks for a moment at the walls, contrasting
+Blenkinsop's fortune with the artist's fate].
+
+RIDGEON [in low tones, still embarrassed] He has been fortunate.
+
+JENNIFER. Very fortunate. His life has been spared.
+
+RIDGEON. I mean that he has been made a Medical Officer of
+Health. He cured the Chairman of the Borough Council very
+successfully.
+
+JENNIFER. With your medicines?
+
+RIDGEON. No. I believe it was with a pound of ripe greengages.
+
+JENNIFER [with deep gravity] Funny!
+
+RIDGEON. Yes. Life does not cease to be funny when people die any
+more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.
+
+JENNIFER. Dr Blenkinsop said one very strange thing to me.
+
+RIDGEON. What was that?
+
+JENNIFER. He said that private practice in medicine ought to be
+put down by law. When I asked him why, he said that private
+doctors were ignorant licensed murderers.
+
+RIDGEON. That is what the public doctor always thinks of the
+private doctor. Well, Blenkinsop ought to know. He was a private
+doctor long enough himself. Come! you have talked at me long
+enough. Talk to me. You have something to reproach me with. There
+is reproach in your face, in your voice: you are full of it. Out
+with it.
+
+JENNIFER. It is too late for reproaches now. When I turned and
+saw you just now, I wondered how you could come here coolly to
+look at his pictures. You answered the question. To you, he was
+only a clever brute.
+
+RIDGEON [quivering] Oh, dont. You know I did not know you were
+here.
+
+JENNIFER [raising her head a little with a quite gentle impulse
+of pride] You think it only mattered because I heard it. As if it
+could touch me, or touch him! Dont you see that what is really
+dreadful is that to you living things have no souls.
+
+RIDGEON [with a sceptical shrug] The soul is an organ I have not
+come across in the course of my anatomical work.
+
+JENNIFER. You know you would not dare to say such a silly thing
+as that to anybody but a woman whose mind you despise. If you
+dissected me you could not find my conscience. Do you think I
+have got none?
+
+RIDGEON. I have met people who had none.
+
+JENNIFER. Clever brutes? Do you know, doctor, that some of the
+dearest and most faithful friends I ever had were only brutes!
+You would have vivisected them. The dearest and greatest of all
+my friends had a sort of beauty and affectionateness that only
+animals have. I hope you may never feel what I felt when I had to
+put him into the hands of men who defend the torture of animals
+because they are only brutes.
+
+RIDGEON. Well, did you find us so very cruel, after all? They
+tell me that though you have dropped me, you stay for weeks with
+the Bloomfield Boningtons and the Walpoles. I think it must be
+true, because they never mention you to me now.
+
+JENNIFER. The animals in Sir Ralph's house are like spoiled
+children. When Mr. Walpole had to take a splinter out of the
+mastiff's paw, I had to hold the poor dog myself; and Mr Walpole
+had to turn Sir Ralph out of the room. And Mrs. Walpole has to
+tell the gardener not to kill wasps when Mr. Walpole is looking.
+But there are doctors who are naturally cruel; and there are
+others who get used to cruelty and are callous about it. They
+blind themselves to the souls of animals; and that blinds them to
+the souls of men and women. You made a dreadful mistake about
+Louis; but you would not have made it if you had not trained
+yourself to make the same mistake about dogs. You saw nothing in
+them but dumb brutes; and so you could see nothing in him but a
+clever brute.
+
+RIDGEON [with sudden resolution] I made no mistake whatever about
+him.
+
+JENNIFER. Oh, doctor!
+
+RIDGEON [obstinately] I made no mistake whatever about him.
+
+JENNIFER. Have you forgotten that he died?
+
+RIDGEON [with a sweep of his hand towards the pictures] He is not
+dead. He is there. [Taking up the book] And there.
+
+JENNIFER [springing up with blazing eyes] Put that down. How dare
+you touch it?
+
+Ridgeon, amazed at the fierceness of the outburst, puts it down
+with a deprecatory shrug. She takes it up and looks at it as if
+he had profaned a relic.
+
+RIDGEON. I am very sorry. I see I had better go.
+
+JENNIFER [putting the book down] I beg your pardon. I forgot
+myself. But it is not yet--it is a private copy.
+
+RIDGEON. But for me it would have been a very different book.
+
+JENNIFER. But for you it would have been a longer one.
+
+RIDGEON. You know then that I killed him?
+
+JENNIFER [suddenly moved and softened] Oh, doctor, if you
+acknowledge that--if you have confessed it to yourself--if you
+realize what you have done, then there is forgiveness. I trusted
+in your strength instinctively at first; then I thought I had
+mistaken callousness for strength. Can you blame me? But if it
+was really strength--if it was only such a mistake as we all make
+sometimes--it will make me so happy to be friends with you again.
+
+RIDGEON. I tell you I made no mistake. I cured Blenkinsop: was
+there any mistake there?
+
+JENNIFER. He recovered. Oh, dont be foolishly proud, doctor.
+Confess to a failure, and save our friendship. Remember, Sir
+Ralph gave Louis your medicine; and it made him worse.
+
+RIDGEON. I cant be your friend on false pretences. Something has
+got me by the throat: the truth must come out. I used that
+medicine myself on Blenkinsop. It did not make him worse. It is a
+dangerous medicine: it cured Blenkinsop: it killed Louis Dubedat.
+When I handle it, it cures. When another man handles it, it
+kills--sometimes.
+
+JENNIFER [naively: not yet taking it all in] Then why did you let
+Sir Ralph give it to Louis?
+
+RIDGEON. I'm going to tell you. I did it because I was in love
+with you.
+
+JENNIFER [innocently surprised] In lo-- You! elderly man!
+
+RIDGEON [thunderstruck, raising his fists to heaven] Dubedat:
+thou art avenged! [He drops his hands and collapses on the
+bench]. I never thought of that. I suppose I appear to you a
+ridiculous old fogey.
+
+JENNIFER. But surely--I did not mean to offend you, indeed--but
+you must be at least twenty years older than I am.
+
+RIDGEON. Oh, quite. More, perhaps. In twenty years you will
+understand how little difference that makes.
+
+JENNIFER. But even so, how could you think that I--his wife--
+could ever think of YOU--
+
+RIDGEON [stopping her with a nervous waving of his fingers] Yes,
+yes, yes, yes: I quite understand: you neednt rub it in.
+
+JENNIFER. But--oh, it is only dawning on me now--I was so
+surprised at first--do you dare to tell me that it was to gratify
+a miserable jealousy that you deliberately--oh! oh! you murdered
+him.
+
+RIDGEON. I think I did. It really comes to that.
+
+      Thou shalt not kill, but needst not strive
+      Officiously to keep alive.
+
+I suppose--yes: I killed him.
+
+JENNIFER. And you tell me that! to my face! callously! You are
+not afraid!
+
+RIDGEON. I am a doctor: I have nothing to fear. It is not an
+indictable offense to call in B. B. Perhaps it ought to be; but
+it isnt.
+
+JENNIFER. I did not mean that. I meant afraid of my taking the
+law into my own hands, and killing you.
+
+RIDGEON. I am so hopelessly idiotic about you that I should not
+mind it a bit. You would always remember me if you did that.
+
+JENNIFER. I shall remember you always as a little man who tried
+to kill a great one.
+
+RIDGEON. Pardon me. I succeeded.
+
+JENNIFER [with quiet conviction] No. Doctors think they hold the
+keys of life and death; but it is not their will that is
+fulfilled. I dont believe you made any difference at all.
+
+RIDGEON. Perhaps not. But I intended to.
+
+JENNIFER [looking at him amazedly: not without pity] And you
+tried to destroy that wonderful and beautiful life merely because
+you grudged him a woman whom you could never have expected to
+care for you!
+
+RIDGEON. Who kissed my hands. Who believed in me. Who told me her
+friendship lasted until death.
+
+JENNIFER. And whom you were betraying.
+
+RIDGEON. No. Whom I was saving.
+
+JENNIFER [gently] Pray, doctor, from what?
+
+RIDGEON. From making a terrible discovery. From having your life
+laid waste.
+
+JENNIFER. How?
+
+RIDGEON. No matter. I have saved you. I have been the best friend
+you ever had. You are happy. You are well. His works are an
+imperishable joy and pride for you.
+
+JENNIFER. And you think that is your doing. Oh doctor, doctor!
+Sir Patrick is right: you do think you are a little god. How can
+you be so silly? You did not paint those pictures which are my
+imperishable joy and pride: you did not speak the words that will
+always be heavenly music in my ears. I listen to them now
+whenever I am tired or sad. That is why I am always happy.
+
+RIDGEON. Yes, now that he is dead. Were you always happy when he
+was alive?
+
+JENNIFER [wounded] Oh, you are cruel, cruel. When he was alive I
+did not know the greatness of my blessing. I worried meanly about
+little things. I was unkind to him. I was unworthy of him.
+
+RIDGEON [laughing bitterly] Ha!
+
+JENNIFER. Dont insult me: dont blaspheme. [She snatches up the
+book and presses it to her heart in a paroxysm of remorse,
+exclaiming] Oh, my King of Men!
+
+RIDGEON. King of Men! Oh, this is too monstrous, too grotesque.
+We cruel doctors have kept the secret from you faithfully; but it
+is like all secrets: it will not keep itself. The buried truth
+germinates and breaks through to the light.
+
+JENNIFER. What truth?
+
+RIDGEON. What truth! Why, that Louis Dubedat, King of Men, was
+the most entire and perfect scoundrel, the most miraculously mean
+rascal, the most callously selfish blackguard that ever made a
+wife miserable.
+
+JENNIFER [unshaken: calm and lovely] He made his wife the
+happiest woman in the world, doctor.
+
+RIDGEON. No: by all thats true on earth, he made his WIDOW the
+happiest woman in the world; but it was I who made her a widow.
+And her happiness is my justification and my reward. Now you know
+what I did and what I thought of him. Be as angry with me as you
+like: at least you know me as I really am. If you ever come to
+care for an elderly man, you will know what you are caring for.
+
+JENNIFER [kind and quiet] I am not angry with you any more, Sir
+Colenso. I knew quite well that you did not like Louis; but it is
+not your fault: you dont understand: that is all. You never could
+have believed in him. It is just like your not believing in my
+religion: it is a sort of sixth sense that you have not got. And
+[with a gentle reassuring movement towards him] dont think that
+you have shocked me so dreadfully. I know quite well what you
+mean by his selfishness. He sacrificed everything for his art. In
+a certain sense he had even to sacrifice everybody--
+
+RIDGEON. Everybody except himself. By keeping that back he lost
+the right to sacrifice you, and gave me the right to sacrifice
+him. Which I did.
+
+JENNIFER [shaking her head, pitying his error] He was one of the
+men who know what women know: that self-sacrifice is vain and
+cowardly.
+
+RIDGEON. Yes, when the sacrifice is rejected and thrown away. Not
+when it becomes the food of godhead.
+
+JENNIFER. I dont understand that. And I cant argue with you: you
+are clever enough to puzzle me, but not to shake me. You are so
+utterly, so wildly wrong; so incapable of appreciating Louis--
+
+RIDGEON. Oh! [taking up the Secretary's list] I have marked five
+pictures as sold to me.
+
+JENNIFER. They will not be sold to you. Louis' creditors insisted
+on selling them; but this is my birthday; and they were all
+bought in for me this morning by my husband.
+
+RIDGEON. By whom?!!!
+
+JENNIFER. By my husband.
+
+RIDGEON [gabbling and stuttering] What husband? Whose husband?
+Which husband? Whom? how? what? Do you mean to say that you have
+married again?
+
+JENNIFER. Do you forget that Louis disliked widows, and that
+people who have married happily once always marry again?
+
+The Secretary returns with a pile of catalogues.
+
+THE SECRETARY. Just got the first batch of catalogues in time.
+The doors are open.
+
+JENNIFER [to Ridgeon, politely] So glad you like the pictures,
+Sir Colenso. Good morning.
+
+RIDGEON. Good morning. [He goes towards the door; hesitates;
+turns to say something more; gives it up as a bad job; and goes].
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Doctor's Dilemma, by George Bernard Shaw
+
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