menu_book Chapter 1

ACT I OF IRIS BY ARTHUR WING PINERO For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Dramatis Personae Frederick Maldonado Read by Adrian Stevens

Lawrence Trenwith Read by Thomas Peter Groger Harrington Read by Todd Archibald Kane

Read by Alan Mapstone Colonel Winning Read by Algie Pag Servant at Mrs. Bellamy's in Kensington Read by David Purdy

Manservant at the Villa Pringo Read by Larry Wilson Iris Bellamy Read by Abai Fanny Sylvain

Read by Sonia Aurea Weiss, read by Jen Brodar Mrs Winning, read by Lynette Coggins Miss Pinsent, read by Belinda Loveday Woman Servant at the Villa Pringo

Woman Servant at the Flat in Park Street, read by Sandra Schmidt Stage Directions, read by Michelle Eaton The First Act, London, Mrs Bellamy's House in Kensington The second act, Italy, the Villa Prigno at Cadernabia on the Lake of Como. The third act, The Same.

The fourth act, London, a flat in Park Street. The fifth act, The Same. In both the first act and the third, the action is divided into three episodes, which are marked by the falling of the curtain. Between the third act and the fourth, two years are supposed to elapse. Iris, the first act. The scene represents two drawing rooms of equal size

upon the ground floor of a house in Kensington. In the wall separating the rooms are two arched entrances. The one on the right hand side, the other on the left. And in the centre between these entrances is a fireplace. Over the fireplace is an opening, shaped and framed like a mirror, so that with the view gained through the archways, the further room is almost entirely disclosed. in this further room on the left is a single door admitting to a small apartment

in the centre at the back is a conservatory seen through glazed doors and on the right is a window affording a view of a garden on the left hand side of the room nearer the spectator are double doors opening from the inner hall of the house and on the right facing these doors there is a spacious circular bow in which are three french windows also looking on to the garden. The rooms are richly furnished and decorated. In the further room a grand piano adorned with

paintings in the style of Watteau and Lancray and a music stool stand by the window. By the side of the piano is a chair and on the other side of the room are two chairs placed together under the branches of a high palm. Against the walls are cabinets containing articles de vertu. In the Near a room there is an armchair on each side of the fireplace and facing the fireplace a luxurious Chesterfield settee with a piece of rich silk draped over the back. Behind the settee stands

a French ottoman. On the left of the room are a settee of a more formal kind, a table and a window stool and on the right a writing table and two chairs. The one in front of the table, the other by the side of it. Also on the right between the bow and the entrance to the further room, another high palm shelters a smaller settee. There are flowers in profusion. Some are arranged in vases and jardinaires, while a bank of blossom partially conceals the fireplace.

The light is that of a fine evening in summer. The warm glow of sunset is seen in the garden and in the conservatory. Note, the descriptions of the scenery and the directions for the movement of the characters, are set out as from the point of view of the audience. Thus, right and left are the spectators right and left, not the actors. Miss Pinsent, a cheerful young lady in dinner dress, is seated at the writing table, writing, A manservant enters from the hall.

Mr. Kane The servant is followed by Archibald Kane, a smart, well-tailored man of middle age. He carries an opera hat, wears an orchid in his buttonhole and has an air of some authority. Miss Pinsent, advancing and shaking hands with him cordially. How do you do?

To the servant who withdraws. Tell Mrs Bellamy To Kane She's not down yet Don't be scandalised by my premature appearance

She has asked me to give her a few minutes' talk before her guests arrive Miss Pinsent laughingly I see, for a quarter of an hour you are not a guest Merely a hard-working, conscientious solicitor And how are you, my dear Miss Pinsent?

I? Again at the writing table, putting the writing materials in order. A woman who has the good fortune to be attached to the household of such a sweet creature as Mrs Bellamy can't be otherwise than robust and happy. I need not ask after her.

She was looking radiant at Hurlingham on Saturday. Yes, out of the house. Nothing amiss, I hope. She seems depressed. In low spirits. The end of the season. Fatigue.

Scarcely. She's been fretting for weeks. Fretting? Brooding. Upon what? What does my sex brood over?

Religion? The affections? The discovery of a grey hair? Anything. Everything. Returning to him. I rather fancy the old grievance still irritates her occasionally. The old?

Her husband's will. Oh, poor dear lady. Will she never become reconciled to its conditions? Never is a big word. After all, these are early days. She has been five years a widow. She is only six and twenty now.

And well off, as far as her heedlessness in money matters will permit of her being so Let her compare her situation with that of other women Six and twenty and independent And unable to remarry She could commit even that indiscretion if she pleased

And a penalty of losing every penny of her income? If she married a rich man, her interest in her late husband's estate would be no longer indispensable to her. Rich men generally have some odious quality to counterbalance their wealth. The men one would marry her as poor as mice. Cain shrugging his shoulders.

Well, moils such as Mr George Adair Bellamy's are common enough. The mool's the shame. With mock severity. I wonder you care to be a trustee under so iniquitous an instrument. Aha! The position isn't altogether a bed of roses.

It has already worried my fellow trustee, poor Mr. Cauderly, into his grave. However, we ought not to discuss Mrs. Bellamy's affairs too freely. Of course not. I beg your pardon. With a change of manner I say, Mr Kane

Yes? I wish you would render me a service Delighted You are connected with a number of little concerns that pay decent dividends, aren't you? Nice snug little schemes that the public isn't allowed to dip its hands into

Who tells you so? Mrs Bellamy She says you do wonders for her great friend Miss Sylvain and for Mr Harrington Well? I've managed to scrape together nearly 300 pounds

To you, it's the merest trifle, but... You might help a poor lady's companion to increase her stall Ha ha! Don't laugh Let me come and see you, will you?

Honoured In Lincoln's inn fields? Kane writing on his shirt cuff Tomorrow? Miss Pinsent with a nod

At what time? four o'clock oh i'm awfully obliged i listening this is she i think iris richly but delicately gowned enters at the door in the further room drawing on her gloves she comes to cain and gives him her hand she is a beautiful woman with a soft appealing voice and movements instinct with simple grace and dignity her manner is characterised by a repose amounting almost to languor miss pynsent taking from the writing-table the paper upon which she had been writing and presenting it to iris The arrangements of the couples at dinner.

Iris slips the paper into her bodice and Miss Pinsent withdraws, passing through the further room. Iris glancing into the further room to assure herself that she and Cain are alone, then indicating the doors in the nearer room.

Is there a draft? He closes the doors while she seats herself upon the ottoman. I want to talk to you, Archie, concerning a young man in whom I am slightly interested. Cain, sitting facing her upon the window stool. Oh, yes?

A Mr. Trenwith. Do I know him? You may have met him. He has been about this season a great deal. Surely I introduced him to you one night during La Boheme? Oh, is he the good-looking boy I have seen in your box at the opera several times recently?

Two or three times. His name had escaped me, and he was at Hurlingham with you on Saturday, wasn't he? More with the little dales than with me. I gave him a lift down. He's quite poor, you know. Really? He must have friends. The Little Dales, for example. We mean friends who ask him to parties.

They are of no use when even a cab fare is a consideration. It occurred to me that you might be inclined to exert your influence in some direction or another in his behalf. What's his age? Twenty-eight, I'm afraid. Who ever done anything?

He has tried many things. Hmm. His great misfortune was being ploughed for the army. That was a thousand pities. Lately he has been reading for the bar, but he finds he has no taste for law.

His ear for music is wonderful, and he draws cleverly in pastel. The failures in life are masters of the minor talent. Hush! And now his only relative with money and position, an uncle who is an archdeacon, has become disheartened. You would expect an archdeacon to be sympathetic and patient, would you not?

Beyond a certain point, I would not. You are too cynical. At any rate, this uncle offers him a few hundred pounds on the understanding that he goes out to a cattle ranch in British Columbia, a dreadful place, a sort of genteel Siberia. I am so grieved for the boy.

A difficult case. Don't say that. He belongs to a large class. He is a young gentleman to whom it is absolutely essential that somebody should bequeath five thousand a year.

You will jest, Archie. My dear Iris, what career is there, apart from the criminal, for engaging but impecunious incapacity? In its usual course, it begins with a beggarly secretaryship, passes through the intermediate stages of a precarious interest in a wine business and a disastrous association with the turf and the stock exchange,

and ends with the selling, on commission, of an obsolete atlas or an unwieldy Bible. Iris, shudderingly. Terrible. Will you follow my advice? Oh.

Back up the Archdeacon. Urge the young man to clear out without delay She rises and moves to the fireplace where she stands looking down upon the flowers Cain rising with her

I appear extremely disagreeable No, no Cain strolling over to the writing table and examining a photograph which he finds there This is Mr Trenwith

is it not? Iris after a glance in his direction sitting upon the settee facing the fireplace. Yes. Cain replacing the photograph and approaching her. Shall I bore you by offering a little further counsel? You are very good. Cain sitting on the ottoman. Iris a woman in your position can't be too cautious. Cautious? I don't want to disturb you by recalling the terms of poor George's will. At the same time... Iris turning to him. My dear Archie, nothing that you can say upon the subject

will disturb me. The threats of that will seem to me to be weaved into the decorations of my walls. I construe them daily, almost hourly. Closing her eyes as she recites. You forfeit all interest in your late husband's estate by remarrying. I tread them into my carpets.

As before. In such an event, the whole source of your income passes to others. The street music makes a lilt of them. You have no separate estate, wed again and you cease to be of independent means. When a stranger is presented to me, I divine his thoughts instantly.

Why, you are the woman, he remarks to himself, who loses her money by remarrying. Reclining upon a pillow with a faint attempt at a laugh. For the thousandth time, why are such provisions made, can you tell me? They are designed primarily, I hope, to protect the widow. To protect her?

From unscrupulous men, from fortune hunters. In the present instant, for example, it is only fair to assume that your husband, knowing how greatly your happiness depends upon personal comfort, was actuated solely by a desire to safeguard you. Ah, the safeguarding of women.

Its effects may be humiliating, cruel. Hmm. Upon one of its effects, as concerning yourself, I should like to lay particular stress. May I be perfectly frank?

Do. Allow me to remind you, then, that a lady, circumstance as you are, still youthful, beautiful... Iris, touching his sleeve gently.

Who is seen constantly in the company of a young man who she could not dream of marrying, subjects herself inevitably to a considerable amount of ill-natured criticism. She raises herself looking at him. Criticism, conjecture, scandal. I didn't think you meant that. Ah, thanks.

She leaves the settee showing signs of discomposure. Kane standing before her. I have completely spoilt your enjoyment of your little dinner party. Iris giving him her hand. Dear friend, this is the advantage of employing a fashionable solicitor,

one whose practice has its roots in the gay partiers of society. I get the gossip of the boudoir at first hand. My object? Ah, I am infinitely obliged. But, Archie...

Yes? Iris her head averted. You don't believe, evidently, that I am capable of throwing selfish considerations to the winds, marrying a poor man.

You? Iris sitting upon the window stool. I know. The last woman on earth you would say who would find courage for such an act. Are you joking?

Ha! You marry a poor man? You with your utter disregard for the value of money? Why, luxury to you is the salt of life, my dear Iris. Great heavens! I try to do a little good with my money too, Archie.

An indiscriminate sovereign to a beggar where a shilling would suffice? Three times his fare to every cabman? Oh, don't scold me. Not I. I gave that up long since. You were sent into the world so constituted.

Iris smiling. So afflicted. You are right, Archie. The step would be preposterous. Cain raising his hands.

Oh? Only I should like to think that I don't shrink from it out of sheer worldliness and cowardice. I should like to think... Rising. As you observe, one is sent into the world shaped this way or that.

Producing Miss Pincense's memorandum and referring to it. Will you take Fanny Sylvan in to dinner? Charmed, who are your guests? Fanny and a little niece of hers whom she has taken under her wing. Dear Croaker, the winnings.

Delightful. Iris walking away from him to avoid the embarrassment of meeting his eye And Mr. Trenbeth Oh, and Frederick Maldonado Maldonado?

Yes May I say I'm glad The wound is healed then? He writes begging me to include him again in my dinner parties Poor Maldonado

She is standing beside the writing table. From a drawer, she takes out a ring case and produces a tiny ring. What's that? Iris, slipping the ring on her finger and displaying it. A token.

He gave it to me when he, at the time, telling me that if ever I relented, I had only to return it to him without a word. and, no matter what part of the globe it found him in, he would come to me on wings. The plumage is golden in his case, Iris. Yes.

Closing her eyes for a moment. But I couldn't, Archie. Removing the ring from her finger thoughtfully. Yet I've been on the point of sending this to him more than once during the past month. You have?

Iris mechanically replacing the ring in its drawer. There's a way out of my perplexity. The double doors are thrown open and a servant announces Miss Sylvain and Miss Vice. Iris advances to greet Fanny Sylvain who enters with Aurea.

Fanny is a bright attractive woman of 30. Aurea, a frank looking girl still in her teens. Fanny and Iris kiss affectionately. Dear Fanny. Dear Iris.

Presenting Aurea. My niece Aurea. Iris advancing to Aurea. Ah. Fanny shaking hands with Cain.

Well, Archie. Cain talking to her apart. How are you, Fanny? I've bad news for you. Fanny clutching his arm.

No. I am to take you in to dinner. Brute, I thought you were going to tell me that some of my investments have gone wrong. Ha ha ha! You are still doing well for me, Archie.

Miss Pinsent has reappeared in the further room. She now joins Fanny and Cain, shaking hands with the former. Iris with Aurea by the settee on the left. And so, this is your first dinner party, Aurea? Of a formal kind.

Iris smiling. A few old friends gathered together for the last time this season. Anyway, it is sweet of you to include me. Colonel and Mrs Winning are announced. Winning is a soldierly man of 55.

His wife a pleasant-looking lady, much his junior. Iris, shaking hands with the winnings. How do you do? How do you do? How are you? Iris to both.

Were you riding in the park this morning? Jack was. I have lumbago. Ah, that's very painful, is it not? When I was a boy, only servants had it. By Jove, these are living days with a vengeance.

Shaking hands with Fanny, who has come to Mrs. Winning. How you, Miss Sylvain? Seeing Cain. Hello, Cain. Shaking hands with Miss Pinsent.

How you? Mrs. Winning greeting Miss Pinsent. How do you do? Mrs Winning, Miss Pinsent and Kane in one group and Colonel Winning and Iris forming another

talk together on the right while Fanny joins Aurea who is now seated upon the settee on the left. Fanny to Aurea Well, are you disappointed? She is adorable.

Fanny sitting facing Aurea upon the window stool triumphantly. Ah, when did you and she first know each other, Aunt? When she was fourteen. We were at school together. Even then there wasn't a girl who wouldn't have sold her little white soul for a caress from Iris.

And the spell she casts never weakens. Here am I, a woman of thirty, and I believe she is more attractive to me than ever. Of course she'll marry again. She must. She has been pestered to distraction ever since she discarded her mourning.

Tell me, are any of the men dining here this evening in love with her? Some of them are, or were. Glancing in the direction of the Winnings. Colonel Winning married that amiable creature over there in despair at having been refused three times. Does his wife know it?

Certainly, and feels honoured, as she ought. A servant announces Mr. Harrington. And Croker Harrington, a dapper but exceedingly ugly little man of five and thirty, enters gaily, Iris welcoming him. So pleased to see you, Croker.

Croker, kissing her hand gallantly. Dear lady. Discovering Fanny. Ah, those alabaster shoulders can belong but to one person. Fanny giving him her left hand, which he presses to his bosom.

I hate you. You didn't come to the bazaar yesterday. I did better. I told the richest man I know to go there. Freddy Maldonado? He never turned up. The traitor. My fingers shall be at his throat directly, he appears. To Iris. He's to be here tonight? Yes.

He joins those on the right and is received joyously. Iris exchanges a few words with Fanny and Aurea, and then, producing Miss Pincente's memorandum, goes to Croker. Aurea to Fanny. I hope that plain little gentleman has never dared.

Mr. Harrington? Oh, yes. Croker Harrington has dared in his time. No. He laughs openly at his repeated failures.

He laughs till he cries, he says, but I suspect the laughter has not always accompanied the tears. Dear Croker, however, he is now resigned to his position. His position? He declares he wonders why the inland revenue people don't fine Iris for omitting to take out a dog license for him.

Poor little man. Still, he is so exceedingly ugly. The most sensible men in the world, my dear. The ugly ones? The vainest of them confide the truth to themselves at least once a day, while shaving. Frederick Maldonado is announced.

He enters, a tall, massive man of about forty, with brown hair and beard, handsome according to the Jewish type, somewhat ebullient in manner, his figure already tending to corpulency, Iris giving him her hand with perfect dignity. You have been too long a stranger, Maldo. Welcome. Maldo, my old diminutive. Time is effaced by your use of it.

Shaking hands with Fanny. Fanny. You didn't patronise the bazaar yesterday, Frederick. Sincere regrets. I found it impossible to get away from the city. Greeting Croker and Cain.

My dear Croker. Archie, my good friend. Iris presenting him to the winnings. Mrs Winning, let me introduce Mr Frederick Maldonado. Colonel Winning. He bows to them and shakes hands with Miss Pinsent.

Aurea to Fanny. Who is that? Frederick, one of the great Maldonado family. Great? Well, not great. Big, big financiers.

Foreign? The grandfather was a Jew tradesman in Madrid who broke and went out to South America. He made a fortune in tobacco in Havana and afterwards married an Englishwoman. Since then our public schools have been favoured with the education of the male Maldonados. They're reckoned among the three leading groups of financiers in Europe.

What is a financier exactly? A financier? Oh, a pawnbroker with imagination. Aunt! And is he in love with?

Fanny to Cain, who at this moment appears at her side. Ah, we are talking about her. How ethereal she looks this evening. My niece, Archie. To Aurea.

Mr. Cain. Cain remains with them talking. A servant announces Mr. Lawrence Trenwith. and Lawrence, a handsome stalwart, but still boyish young man, enters. Iris advances to meet him. Her lips form the words of a welcome. They shake hands silently. You know many who are here, I think.

Moving away to the right, he following. You have met Mrs Winning, no? Presenting Lawrence. Mr. Trenwith, Colonel Winning, Mr. Harrington, I am sure you know, Mr. Frederick Maldonado. Lauren's shaking hands with Miss Pinsent after bowing to the others. How do you do? Fanny, who has risen, to Cain in a whisper.

Archie, thank goodness she starts for Switzerland on Saturday. Cain to Fanny with a nod. Hmm. A servant enters. Dinner is served.

The servant retires. Iris brings Lawrence over to the left. Cain shaking hands with him. How do you do? Fanny shaking hands with him.

How are you, Mr. Trenwith? Fanny and Cain move away. Iris presenting Lawrence to Aurea. Mr. Trenwith. Miss Weiss.

to laurence will you take miss wise with great pleasure iris in the centre of the room croaker please play host and go first with mrs winning Croker gives his arm to Mrs Winning and they pass out. Colonel Winning, after a polite offer of precedence to Cain and Fanny, follows with Miss Pinsent. Fanny and Cain go next, then Lawrence and Aurea.

To Maldonado's surprise, Iris stands immovable, looking into space. Maldonado offering his arm. I am to have the honour. Suddenly, with a gleam of resolution in her eyes, she moves to the writing table and again produces Maldonado's ring. She offers it to him. Maldonado receiving it incredulously.

My ring. The token, Maldonado. Iris? Iris! Hush! Passing him, then turning and placing her arm in his quite collectedly.

Have you been abroad lately? I read of your being in Vienna in the spring. The curtain falls as they go out. It rises again almost instantly, showing the window blinds lowered and the rooms brilliantly lighted. In the conservatory, little lamps glitter among the palms and flowers. Iris and Mrs Winning occupy the settee in the centre Fanny is in the chair on their right

Miss Pinsent is at the piano playing the final bars of A Nocturne of Chopin while Aurea sits near her turning over some music The men enter

Colonel Winning and Kane appearing first Maldonado, Croker and Lawrence following Iris rises and motions Cain to withdraw with her from the rest. Maldonado places himself beside Mrs Winning. Croker, standing facing them, takes part in their talk.

Winning and Fanny seat themselves on the settee, under the palm on the right. Lawrence joins Aurea and Miss Pinsent at the piano. Iris, standing by the settee on the left. Archie? Yes?

You need be under no apprehension concerning me. I have done it. You have done what? Ended my perplexity. I have told Frederick Maldonado I will marry him.

Iris! Not a word, if you please, to anybody. I will not have it announced till after I have left town. Except my congratulations. What made you form this resolution so suddenly, may I ask? I felt the sensation of stumbling, that I must snatch at something tangible.

Closing her eyes. I am glad. I hope it is for your happiness. It is for my safety. There is now no risk of further scandal should Mr. Trenwith decide to remain in England. Good.

On the other hand, if he migrates to British Columbia, I stifle the temptation to play housewife among the pots and pans of his poor little log hut. I am secure either way. Hmm. And you did entertain the idea seriously? I have been miserably perplexed. Miss Pinsent plays some snatches of music lightly. Croker approaches Iris and Cain.

My dear Iris, what a delightful dinner you have given us. Your dinners are always charming. Iris sitting upon the settee. My guests are always charming. Cain moves away, joining Winning and Fanny. Winning yields his place to Cain, and ultimately sits with Aurea under the palm in the further room. Croker sitting facing Iris, his tone changing slightly.

Divinity, what's the matter with you tonight? The matter? Something disturbs you, distresses you. How do I show it, faithful one? In your lustrous and never-to-be-forgotten eyes.

Iris beating a pillow and nestling in it. Ha! I am simply dog-weary. It has been a hard season for your poor divinity. Oh, how I am longing for my month among the mountains and my sunbath at Cadernabia.

You drop down to the lakes, then, after San Moritz? Yes. I'm renting the Villa Prigno and his staff of servants from its owner, Mr. van Reisler, for a few weeks. When are you off? On Saturday. This is farewell. I picture the caravan. The fair pin set, your courier, your maid, your fruit, your flowers, your birds. No, are not those troublesome birds.

You know I never move anywhere without my birds. Are you coming to Switzerland this year? Croker almost surlily, looking away. No, perhaps. Of course I am.

I am one of your human birds, divinity. One of my great, kind human birds that fly after me wheresoever I go. That fly, yes, and yet are caged. Hush! Croker!

I beg your pardon. It slipped out. Ah, I'll not be vexed with you. I am continually breaking my promise. Someday you'll tire of me and send me about my business. Never.

Bending towards him. Faithful one, do you think I could afford to use your true friendship, your ceaseless solicitude, your... She sees Lawrence, who is now standing at the writing table, waiting for an opportunity of approaching her,

falters and breaks off. Croker, ask Kate to play my favourite mazurka, will you? Croker rising. Certainly. He delivers his message to Miss Pinsent,

remaining by her side while she plays. With a look, Iris draws Lawrence to her. As he advances, she changes her place from the settee to the window still. Lauren's standing beside her. This is the first opportunity I've had of a word with you.

Yes. I have something to tell you. May I? She motions him to the settee. Lauren's sitting. I have accepted my uncle's proposal.

You have? There is nothing for it but that. Nothing that I can hit upon. I'll go down to Rapley to talk matters ever with the old man tomorrow. Oh, yes.

So this may be the last time we shall ever meet. Unless you... Oh, I feel how presumptuous I am to allude to it again. Unless I... Could, after all, bring yourself to share my rough lot with me.

A mad selfish idea, I know. Feelings like mine make one mad. Please. A mad idea indeed. It's goodbye, then.

When will you be back from Raipley? I shan't come back. My uncle insists upon my spending my remaining few hours with him. Then I shall go straight to Liverpool. You sail?

On the 30th. The day you start for Switzerland, I hear. She assents, dumbly. Let me stay behind for a few moments tonight after your friends have left. I am sorry.

Mr Maldonado has already made a similar request. Oh, but you can excuse yourself to him. I... I fear not. Forgive me. I thought this being the end of our...

Rising. Never mind. She rises with him. They face one another. I shall write to you from Rapley, if I may,

and send you a wire from Liverpool. and when I get to Chilgerton, River Ranch, Chilgerton, British Columbia, I'll... would once a month be too often. Oh, how happy I've been. She gives a quick glance round, conscious of a general movement,

and sees that her guests are preparing to depart. Winning has joined Mrs. Winning. Lawrence? Yes? Return in about an hour's time.

Be outside the house on the other side of the way. watch the door the winnings come to her iris turning to mrs winning must you we have to go on three o'clock in the morning again for us this week is the last of it thank god when one has lumbago one may as well keep up right as not i ought to follow you but i am too indolent to-night mrs winning kissing her It has been so pleasant. Winning shaking hands. Charming.

They shake hands with the rest, who are engaged in bidding each other good night, and withdraw, Miss Pinsent accompanying them. Iris to Fanny, who comes to her with Aurea. You too, Fanny? Only to the Chadwigs, for the sake of this girl, and then to bye-bye.

Kissing her on both cheeks. Your dinner table looked superb. Do let me thank you, dear Mrs Bellamy. Iris to Aurea. Well?

Oh, I should like to dine out every night of my life. Ha! If I could always watch your face through the flowers. Iris kisses her and walks with them to the door. Will you be at home at tea time tomorrow?

To you, Fanny. Au revoir. They depart as Croker approaches her. Are you for gaieties, Croker? Not I. Kissing her hand.

The last act of Messaline, and a glance at the telegrams at the club will see me through. In the doorway. I shall be on the platform at Victoria. No, no, you mustn't trouble.

Croker with a quick look into her face. Trouble? Good heaven. He disappears. Lawrence formally as he shakes hands with her.

Thank you for a most delightful evening. So nice of you to come. Good night. Good night. He withdraws.

Cain shaking hands with her. Shall we meet again before you run away? Hardly. Well, a pleasant holiday. And to you, Archie.

Cain, pausing in the doorway, dropping his voice. Once more, congratulations. Thanks. He goes. She closes the doors and turns to find herself in Maldonado's arms.

Ah, no. At last. Oh. Sweetest. Maldo.

Freeing herself with a gesture of repugnance. Maldo. She brushes past him and stands greatly ruffled by the chair beside the writing table. He regards her silently for a moment, puzzled after the silence. Oh, pardon me, my dear. The stored up feelings of a lifetime, it seems.

It would be an exceedingly poor compliment to you were I less ardent. She takes a bottle of salt from the writing table and drops into the chair. I... I am tired, Maldo. Ah, naturally, and I most inconsiderate. Coming to the back of her chair.

I was rough, savage. A woman should always find repose on the breast of her lover. Bending over her. Let me prove to you how gentle I can be. Ah, it is late, Maldonado.

Maldonado glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. Barely eleven. Turning to her. Light. Twisting his beard thoughtfully.

You who never leave the opera till the final bar is played. Placing himself between her chair and the writing table. But I won't plague you further. Sitting upon the edge of the table and inclining his body towards her. I only ask you to grant me one favour before you dismiss me tonight.

Favour? Bestow upon me the title I have coveted so long. It is comprised in a single word. The faintest movement of those beautiful, still lips will suffice. You have but to whisper it to send me through the streets in air.

Whisper. What? I am your beloved, am I not? Simply call me Beloved. We are not boy and girl, Maldo.

Boy, I know. His eyes glowering. Boy is not scorched up, body and soul, by such a passion as you inspire me with. She rises turning from him. Maldonado also rising apologetically.

Ah, I scare you again. You'll think me a hot-blooded tyrant. Don't fear, it is merely for the moment, the suddenness of my delight. Besides, you must make some small allowance for me. We Maldonados are not yet wholly English in our ways.

You shall complete my education. We'll begin the course of instruction at once. Begin by my promptly leaving you to your slumbers. Taking her hand and crumpling it fondly There, was there ever a more docile pupil?

In an outburst impulsively pressing her hand to his lips and covering it with passionate kisses Ah, sweetest, be kind, melt, be warm, be warm Iris regaining possession of her hand Maldo, listen Maldo

I I am dreadfully sorry What I tell you now I ought to have told you before returning your ring your token

Maldo, I haven't the love for you a woman should have for the man who is to be her husband in that respect I am as you have always known me

but I will try to do my duty faithfully as mistress of your house if that will satisfy you I can promise no more, but I will do my duty, strictly and honourably, Maldonado, strictly and honourably. She moves away to the centre. He approaches her slowly.

Maldonado at her side, his softness gone, speaking in a harsh, grating voice, swallowing an oath. By, I should scarcely have thought it possible. Yes, you positively deceived me, the astute Freddy Maldonado. You've had me in a fool's paradise for nearly three hours. Deceived? What an ass. I really imagined, for three mortal hours, that it was reserved for me to escape

the proverbial fate of the millionaire where the love of woman is concerned. Maldo! Why are you marrying me then, eh? Why are you prepared to marry me? You are very good, Maldo.

Very generous. Ah, yes. Amiability itself. Quite so. There is no man for whom I have sincere respect.

None, Maldo. None. Yes, yes, all that But I assume that the qualities you enumerate Admirable as they are

Would hardly suffice to induce you to resign your own comfortable fortune Were I not able to offer you a pretty solid exchange A woman at such a crisis of her life Is swayed by many considerations Of course, Maldo

I am past the romantic age You must think what you please. I cannot defend myself. She sits upon the ottoman stonily. Leaving her, he walks about the room giving vent to short outbursts of ironical laughter.

Ultimately, he flings himself onto the settee on the left. Ha! Ha! Ha! Why, I suppose I ought to be profoundly grateful to you for your candour. The generality of women Ha!

Ha! And better now than subsequent to marriage And, after all, you give yourself to me Give yourself in a fashion In the only fashion it may be

I must console myself with that In the only fashion in which your temperament allows you to yield yourself Come, I can't lose you utterly, my dear I'll be a philosopher and say thanks, thanks Returning to her side

Thanks Thanks, Maldo It's a bargain, then You'll be mine, as much mine as the Velasquith The Raphael hanging on my walls

Mine, at least, to gaze at Mine to keep from others Her head droops in acquiescence And in return, I promise that you shall be one of the most envied women in Europe. Oh, you shall attain your ambition.

You shall realise what wealth is. Steep yourself in it to your heart's content. Iris rising penitently. Maldol. Tush, my dear.

I'll not reproach you. You are as God made women, and I, I am a millionaire. After a pause, during which she plays with her handkerchief helplessly. Well, I'll be gone. I fear I've gravely imperiled my character for amiability.

Oh. Giving him her hand. Maldo. Eh? Perhaps.

Perhaps as the years grow it may become different between us. Maldonado gripping her hand. Iris. Good night. Maldonado devouring her with his eyes.

My, my queen. Drawing a deep breath. I take my luck. He releases her and she goes to the bell beside the fireplace and rings it. Maldonado at the door.

Will you be in to me in the morning? Yes. A thousand apologies for keeping you up. Good night. Good night, Mildo.

He departs. With a cry half of pain, half of weariness, she throws herself at full length upon the settee, and the curtain falls. After a brief pause it rises,

disclosing the rooms empty and in darkness, and the window shutters and the shutters of the conservatory doors closed and barred. A key turns in its lock and one of the double doors is opened gently and Iris enters, followed by Laurence Trenwith. She motions him to pass her and carefully closes the door.

Then she switches on the light of a lamp, standing upon the table on the left and silently and impassively seats herself upon the window stool. Having deposited his hat and overcoat upon the settee on the right, he comes to her and throwing himself upon his knees before her, clasps her waist. She remains statue-like, her arms hanging by her side, looking down upon him with fixed eyes. I can't help it. Pity me. Forgive me for being so daring. Remember,

in the future I have to live upon my recollection of you, my recollection of how near I have been to you. Tonight we'll stand out more distinctly than all the rest. You'll kiss me tonight, won't you? Let me kiss you. She raises her hands to shield her face. For once, just for once. you'll not allow me to go without a kiss at parting picture me in my solitary little log hut

alone after the day's work twelve miles away from the nearest house from the nearest companionable creature and think what the memory of a single kiss will always mean to me oh don't hide your face

are you angry remove your hands you are angry I won't kiss you then I won't try to kiss you

He attempts to uncover her face, whereupon she rises. He rises with her. There is silence between them for a while. Iris, at length, controlling herself with an effort. Lawrence, my poor friend, I have promised to marry Mr Maldonado.

What? Maldonado. When? When did I make the promise? Yes.

Tonight. Last night, that is. It is past twelve, isn't it? Yes. He turns from her unsteadily and sinks upon the ottoman, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking convulsively, Iris at his side. Don't. Don't. Be strong. What difference can it make?

To me? None, I suppose. Yes. Yes, all the difference. How? There would have been the hope.

There would have been the hope. Hope? Lawrence mastering his emotion and looking up at her. In spite of everything, I should have gone away with the hope that some day, if I prosper, you would bid me come home to fetch you.

And now, Mr Maldonado. Rising. I beg your pardon. I ought to offer you my... Thank you.

Lauren's gazing at her. You and Mr. Multanato. I should hardly have... Checking himself. I trust you will be extremely...

He fetches his hat and coat and returns to her. Of course. Under the altered circumstances, I won't think of troubling you with letters. Perhaps it would be as well that you should not write, for a time at least.

I shall never cease to be interested in your career. Losing some of her composure. Oh, you might have disguised it more thoroughly. Disguised? Your astonishment at my marrying Mr Maldonado.

He has loved me. He asked me to be his wife two years ago. And tonight I, quite suddenly... Do you know that you and I were beginning to be the subject of tittle-tattle? You and I?

Gossip. Oh. Scandal. How dare people, good heavens, to think I have brought this upon you. What an infamous world.

She shrugged her shoulders, smiling miserably. Oh. Going to the mantelpiece and leaning upon it. Oh, it's a dastardly world. I didn't mean to add to your unhappiness.

I only wished you to understand exactly what has occurred. Laurence turning to her. But now I am going away. That in itself will stop evil tongues. There is no necessity now for you to take this step,

if you are taking it merely to stop scandal. She sits silently upon the ottoman. Throwing his hat and coat aside, he kneels upon the settee and, bending over it, speaks almost into her ear. Do this. Don't. Don't. There's no reason for it.

You shan't. You shall not. I must. Not Maltinado. I must. Not the man I met here tonight.

Iris seizing his hands and holding them in entreaty. Lawrence. What? I am totally unfit for the life you ask me to lead. The life?

Your wife, a farmer's wife, mistress of a log hut, to work with my hands. I dare not. Iris. Out there, here, anywhere, I am not fit to be a poor man's wife. Iris.

No, no, no. I will not. You are marrying him to save yourself from me. Oh. Her head drops back until it rests upon the edge of the settee.

With a cry, he presses a prolonged kiss upon her lips. She rises, her eyes closed, her hand pressed tightly upon her mouth. You'll despise me for that. Always have a contempt for me. After a pause, during which she is quite still,

she moves to the writing table. and seating herself before it, switches on the light of a lamp standing upon the table. Lawrence. She selects a sheet of notepaper and writes, he looking on wonderingly.

When she has finished her note, she blots it and hands it to him and proceeds to address an envelope. Read it. What have I said? Lawrence reading. Forget what has passed between us tonight.

It cannot be. I entreat your forgiveness. He returns the paper and she encloses it. Then she rises and, taking some flowers from a vase, moistens the envelope with the wet stalks. Having fastened the letter by pressing it with her handkerchief,

she gives it to Lawrence. Let her messenger leave that at Mr Maldonado's house in Mount Street before nine o'clock. Lawrence pocketing the letter. Iris.

She leaves him with uncertain steps and sinks upon the settee facing the fireplace. He follows her. Lauren's standing before her. What do you mean? Iris half-rising.

I... I don't care. Follow me to Switzerland. Be near me. She stretches out her arms to him and they sit together in an embrace. The curtain falls. End of Act One