She places the necklace on the table, mechanically arranges VENDALE’S locket round her neck, suddenly realises the effect of what she is doing on OBENREIZER, starts, and turns away abruptly to MADAME DOR.) Madame Dor! it’s getting late! Come and help me to dress for dinner.
(She hurries out, taking MADAME DOR with her. VENDALE remains at the back, looking after her.)
Obenreizer. His locket round her neck, and my necklace left on the table! I have risked the horrors of discovery—I have sacrificed my honour—I have put my whole future in peril to win her love—and this is my reward! Curses on your glitter and your beauty! You have ruined me for life!
(He snatches up the diamonds, and throws them from him in a frenzy of rage. The moment after, VENDALE approaches him with both hands extended cordially.)
Vendale. My dear friend, I have something to say to you! (A stifled cry of fury and a threatening gesture escape OBENREIZER. He controls himself the moment after, and, without taking VENDALE’S outstretched hands, points to a chair. VENDALE continues.) What is the matter? Has anything happened to annoy you?
Obenreizer. My nerves are out of order. I’m not quite myself to-day. Don’t notice! You want to speak to me. Take a seat. This is business, I suppose?
Vendale. (seating himself, with a look of surprise). Business! Something much more interesting than business. I am afraid you are hardly well enough——?
Obenreizer. (seating himself). I am quite well enough. What is it?
Vendale. Mr. Obenreizer, you must have observed, long since, that I feel no ordinary admiration for your charming ward.
Obenreizer. I have not observed it.
Vendale. My admiration has grown into a tenderer and deeper feeling——
Obenreizer. Friendship, Mr. Vendale?
Vendale. Love. (OBENREIZER starts to his feet. VENDALE continues.) I appear to surprise you?
Obenreizer. (breaking out). You——! (Masters himself by a great effort, and resumes his chair.) You petrify me.
Vendale. Shall I wait till you have recovered yourself?
Obenreizer. No!
Vendale. You wish me to go on?
Obenreizer. Yes!
Vendale. You are Mademoiselle Marguerite’s guardian. I ask you to confer upon me the greatest of all favours—I ask you to give me her hand in marriage.
Obenreizer. (breaking out). You ask me——! (Checks himself.)
Vendale. I beg your pardon?—I didn’t hear——
Obenreizer. One word, sir. You have said nothing about this to the young lady herself?
Vendale. I have opened my whole heart to the young lady.
Obenreizer. (furiously). Mr. Vendale——! (Controls himself once more.) Mr. Vendale, what sort of conduct is this? As a man of honour speaking to a man of honour, how can you justify it?
Vendale. The customs of your country and mine differ. Why do you receive my proposals in this strange way? What objection do you see to favouring my suit?
Obenreizer. I see one immense objection. My ward is the daughter of a peasant, and you are the son of a gentleman. In this country, such a marriage as you propose is an outrage on society.
Vendale. Mr. Obenreizer, I may claim to know my own country better than you do. In the estimation of everybody whose opinion is worth having, my wife herself would be the one sufficient justification of my marriage. In offering her my love, I know that I am also offering her the respect of all my friends. I am not so rich as you suppose me to be; but I can give my wife a home and a position that are worthy of her. My present income is fifteen hundred a year, and I have the fairest prospect of soon making it more. Do you object to me on pecuniary grounds?
Obenreizer. Yes!
Vendale. (in astonishment). Why?
Obenreizer. Because you are not rich enough.
Vendale. I have just told you that I have fifteen hundred a year!
Obenreizer. Enough, I dare say, for an English wife in your own station. Not more than half enough for a foreign wife, who has all your social prejudices to conquer. Answer me this. On your fifteen hundred a year, can your wife have a house in a fashionable quarter, a footman to open her door, a butler to wait at her table, and a carriage and horses to drive about in? Yes? or No?
Vendale. No!
Obenreizer. One more question, and I have done. Take the mass of your lovely and accomplished countrywomen. Is it, or is it not, the fact, that a lady who has a house in a fashionable quarter, a footman to open her door, a butler to wait at her table, and a carriage and horses to drive about in—is a lady who has gained four steps in female estimation, at starting?
Vendale. (aside). He has betrayed himself at last. The mercenary motive is at the bottom of it all! (To OBENREIZER.) You view this question as a question of terms?
Obenreizer. Of terms beyond your reach.
Vendale. On your own showing, you could offer no valid objection to my proposal, if I had three thousand a year. I shall have a word to say to you presently about that part of the question. But I will wait till you have consulted the wishes of Mademoiselle Marguerite, first.
Obenreizer. What has she to do with this discussion?
Vendale. She has the same interest in it that I have.
Obenreizer. What do you mean?
Vendale. I have had the assurance from her own lips that she loves me.
Obenreizer. (furiously striking the bell on the table). We’ll see about that! (A WOMAN-SERVANT enters.) Mademoiselle Marguerite! (The SERVANT retires. MARGUERITE enters. OBENREIZER looks at her as she slowly advances towards him.) Her colour is rising! How lovely she looks!
Marguerite. (to OBENREIZER). You wish to speak to me?
Obenreizer. Yes, dearest. I have something to say to you, at the request of this gentleman. Mr. Vendale asserts—— (His voice falters; he turns aside abruptly.)
Marguerite. You look worn and anxious. Are you ill? I am so sorry!
Obenreizer. (in a voice broken by emotion). She pities me! The angel looks down and pities me!
Marguerite. (innocently). Have I said anything to distress you?
Obenreizer. (bitterly). You have turned the knife in the wound—that’s all! No! no! no! I don’t mean that—I mean nothing! We are forgetting Mr. Vendale. Marguerite! He has said—(struggling with himself)—he has said that you love him. (MARGUERITE’S head droops.) It is not true—is it?
Marguerite. (in low, but perfectly firm tones). It is true!
Obenreizer. (aside, in a whisper). Damnation!
Marguerite. (looking up at him in alarm). How strangely he looks!
Vendale.