Pygmalion and Other Plays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAWЧитать онлайн книгу.
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MRS. WARREN. Well, if you’ve been waiting, Praddy, it’s your own fault: I thought you’d have had the gumption to know I was coming by the 3.10 train. Vivie: put your hat on, dear: you’ll get sunburnt. Oh, I forgot to introduce you. Sir George Crofts: my little Vivie. [Crofts advances to Vivie with his most courtly manner. She nods, but makes no motion to shake hands.]
CROFTS. May I shake hands with a young lady whom I have known by reputation very long as the daughter of one of my oldest friends?
VIVIE. [Who has been looking him up and down sharply.] If you like. [She takes his tenderly proffered hand and gives it a squeeze that makes him open his eyes; then turns away, and says to her mother.] Will you come in, or shall I get a couple more chairs? [She goes into the porch for the chairs.]
MRS. WARREN. Well, George, what do you think of her?
CROFTS. [Ruefully.] She has a powerful fist. Did you shake hands with her, Praed?
PRAED. Yes: it will pass off presently.
CROFTS. I hope so. [Vivie reappears with two more chairs. He hurries to her assistance.] Allow me.
MRS. WARREN. [Patronizingly.] Let Sir George help you with the chairs, dear.
VIVIE. [Pitching them into his arms.] Here you are. [She dusts her hands and turns to Mrs. Warren.] You’d like some tea, wouldn’t you?
MRS. WARREN. [Sitting in Praed’s chair and fanning herself.] I’m dying for a drop to drink.
VIVIE. I’ll see about it. [She goes into the cottage. Sir George has by this time managed to unfold a chair and plant it by Mrs. Warren, on her left. He throws the other on the grass and sits down, looking dejected and rather foolish, with the handle of his stick in his mouth. Praed, still very uneasy, fidgets around the garden on their right.]
MRS. WARREN. [To Praed, looking at Crofts.] Just look at him, Praddy: he looks cheerful, don’t he? He’s been worrying my life out these three years to have that little girl of mine shewn to him; and now that I’ve done it, he’s quite out of countenance. [Briskly.] Come! sit up, George; and take your stick out of your mouth. [Crofts sulkily obeys.]
PRAED. I think, you know—if you don’t mind my saying so—that we had better get out of the habit of thinking of her as a little girl. You see she has really distinguished herself; and I’m not sure, from what I have seen of her, that she is not older than any of us.
MRS. WARREN. [Greatly amused.] Only listen to him, George! Older than any of us! Well she has been stuffing you nicely with her importance.
PRAED. But young people are particularly sensitive about being treated in that way.
MRS. WARREN. Yes; and young people have to get all that nonsense taken out of them, and good deal more besides. Don’t you interfere, Praddy: I know how to treat my own child as well as you do. [Praed, with a grave shake of his head, walks up the garden with his hands behind his back. Mrs. Warren pretends to laugh, but looks after him with perceptible concern. Then, she whispers to Crofts.] Whats the matter with him? What does he take it like that for?
CROFTS. [Morosely.] You’re afraid of Praed.
MRS. WARREN. What! Me! Afraid of dear old Praddy! Why, a fly wouldn’t be afraid of him.
CROFTS. You’re afraid of him.
MRS. WARREN. [Angry.] I’ll trouble you to mind your own business, and not try any of your sulks on me. I’m not afraid of you, anyhow. If you can’t make yourself agreeable, you’d better go home. [She gets up, and, turning her back on him, finds herself face to face with Praed.] Come, Praddy, I know it was only your tender-heartedness. You’re afraid I’ll bully her.
PRAED. My dear Kitty: you think I’m offended. Don’t imagine that: pray don’t. But you know I often notice things that escape you; and though you never take my advice, you sometimes admit afterwards that you ought to have taken it.
MRS. WARREN. Well, what do you notice now?
PRAED. Only that Vivie is a grown woman. Pray, Kitty, treat her with every respect.
MRS. WARREN. [With genuine amazement.] Respect! Treat my own daughter with respect! What next, pray!
VIVIE. [Appearing at the cottage door and calling to Mrs. Warren.] Mother: will you come to my room before tea?
MRS. WARREN. Yes, dearie. [She laughs indulgently at Praed’s gravity, and pats him on the cheek as she passes him on her way to the porch.] Don’t be cross, Praddy. [She follows Vivie into the cottage.]
CROFTS. [Furtively.] I say, Praed.
PRAED. Yes.
CROFTS. I want to ask you a rather particular question.
PRAED. Certainly. [He takes Mrs. Warren’s chair and sits close to Crofts.]
CROFTS. That’s right: they might hear us from the window. Look here: did Kitty every tell you who that girl’s father is?
PRAED. Never.
CROFTS. Have you any suspicion of who it might be?
PRAED. None.
CROFTS. [Not believing him.] I know, of course, that you perhaps might feel bound not to tell if she had said anything to you. But it’s very awkward to be uncertain about it now that we shall be meeting the girl every day. We don’t exactly know how we ought to feel towards her.
PRAED. What difference can that make? We take her on her own merits. What does it matter who her father was?
CROFTS. [Suspiciously.] Then you know who he was?
PRAED. [With a touch of temper.] I said no just now. Did you not hear me?
CROFTS. Look here, Praed. I ask you as a particular favor. If you do know. [Movement of protest from Praed.]—I only say, if you know, you might at least set my mind at rest about her. The fact is, I fell attracted toward her. . Oh, don’t be alarmed: it’s quite an innocent feeling. That’s what puzzles me about it. Why, for all I know, I might be her father.
PRAED. You! Impossible!
CROFTS. [Catching him up cunningly.] You know for certain that I’m not?
PRAED. I know nothing about it, I tell you, any more than you. But really, Crofts—oh no, it’s out of the question. There’s not the least resemblance.
CROFTS. As to that, there’s no resemblance between her and her mother that I can see. I suppose she’s not your daughter, is she?
PRAED. [Rising indignantly.] Really, Crofts—!
CROFTS. No offence, Praed. Quite allowable as between two men of the world.
PRAED. [He meets the question with an indignant stare; then recovers himself with an effort and speaking gently and gravely.] Now listen to me, my dear Crofts. I have nothing to do with that side of Mrs. Warren’s life, and never had. She has never spoken to me about it; and of course I have never spoken to her about it. Your delicacy will tell you that a handsome woman needs some friends who are not—well, not on that footing with her. The effect of her own beauty would become a torment to her if she could not escape from it occasionally. You are probably on much more confidential terms with Kitty than I am. Surely you can ask her the question yourself.
CROFTS. [Rising impatiently.]I have asked her, often enough. But she’s so determined to keep the child all to herself that she would deny that it ever had a father if she could. [Rising.] I’m thoroughly uncomfortable about it, Praed.
PRAED. [Rising also.] Well, as you are, at all events, old enough to be her father, I don’t mind agreeing that we both regard Miss Vivie in a parental way, as a young girl who we are bound to protect and help. What do you say?
CROFTS. [Aggressively.] I’m no older than you, if you come to that.
PRAED. Yes you are, my dear fellow: you were born old. I was born a boy: