That's charming. You shall take me for a drive in it every day. I hope you're going to stay some time.
That depends on circumstances, Lady Frederick. I 'ave a little business to do here.
Then let me give you one warning – don't gamble.
Oh, no, my lady. I gamble quite enough in my business as it is. I never know when my customers will pay their bills – if ever.
[Slightly taken aback.] Ha, ha, ha.
[With a deep guffaw.] Ho, ho, ho.
Isn't she clever? I must tell that to the Archduchess. She'll be so amused. Ha, ha, ha, ha. The dear Archduchess, you know she loves a little joke. You must really meet her. Will you come and lunch? I know you'd hit it off together.
[More genially.] That's very kind of your ladyship.
My dear, you know perfectly well that I've always looked upon you as one of my best friends. Now who shall we have? There's you and me and the Archduchess. Then I'll ask Lord Mereston.
The Marquess of Mereston, Lady Frederick?
Yes. And Mr. Fouldes, his uncle.
Excuse me, are you the Mr. Paradine Fouldes?
[Bowing.] At your service, madam.
I'm so glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fouldes. [Unctuously.] I've always heard you're such a bad man.
Madam, you overwhelm me with confusion.
Believe me, Mr. Fouldes, it's not the ladies that are married to saints who take the trouble to dress well.
Now we want a third man. Shall we ask my brother – you know Sir Gerald O'Mara, don't you? Or shall we ask Prince Doniani? Yes, I think we'll ask the Prince. I'm sure you'd like him. Such a handsome man! That'll make six.
It's very kind of you, Lady Frederick, but – well, I'm only a tradeswoman, you know.
A tradeswoman? How can you talk such nonsense. You are an artist – a real artist, my dear. And an artist is fit to meet a king.
Well, I don't deny that I'd be ashamed to dress my customers in the gowns I see painted at the Royal Academy.
Then it's quite settled, isn't it, Madame Claude – oh, may I call you Ada?
Oh, Lady Frederick, I should be very much flattered. But how did you know that was my name?
Why you wrote me a letter only the other day.
Did I?
And such a cross letter too.
[Apologetically.] Oh, but Lady Frederick, that was only in the way of business. I don't exactly remember what expressions I may have made use of —
[Interrupting, as if the truth had suddenly flashed across her.] Ada! I do believe you came here to-day about my account.
Oh, no, my lady, I promise you.
You did; I know you did. I see it in your face. Now that really wasn't nice of you. I thought you came as a friend.
I did, Lady Frederick.
No, you wanted to dun me. I'm disappointed in you. I did think, after all the things I've had from you, you wouldn't treat me like that.
But I assure your ladyship…
Not another word. You came to ask for a cheque. You shall have it.
No, Lady Frederick, I wouldn't take it.
What is the exact figure, Madame Claude?
I – I don't remember.
Seven hundred and fifty pounds, seventeen and ninepence. You see, I remember. You came for your cheque and you shall have it.
[She sits down and takes a pen.
Now, Lady Frederick, I should look upon that as most unkind. It's treating me like a very second-rate establishment.
I'm sorry, but you should have thought of that before. Now I haven't got a cheque; how tiresome.
Oh, it doesn't matter, Lady Frederick. I promise you it never entered my 'ead.
What shall I do?
You can write it on a sheet of paper, you know.
[With a look, aside to him.] Monster! [Aloud.] Of course I can. I hadn't thought of that. [She takes a sheet of paper.] But how on earth am I to get a stamp?
[Much amused.] I happen to have one on me.
I wonder why on earth you should have English stamps in Monte Carlo?
[Handing her one.] A penny stamp may sometimes save one a hundred louis.
[Ironically.] Thanks so much. I write the name of my bank on the top, don't I? Pay Madame Claude…
Now, it's no good, Lady Frederick, I won't take it. After all I 'ave my self-respect to think of.
It's too late now.
[Sniffing a little.] No, no, Lady Frederick. Don't be too 'ard on me. As one lady to another I ask you to forgive me. I did come about my account, but – well, I don't want the money.
[Looking up good-humouredly.] Well, well. [She looks at the cheque.] It shall be as you wish. There. [She tears it up.]
Oh, thank you, Lady Frederick. I look upon that as a real favour. And now I really must be getting off.
Must you go? Well, good-bye. Paradine, take Madame Claude to her motor. Ada!
[She kisses her on the cheek.
[Going.] I am pleased to have seen you.
[Paradine offers his arm and goes out with Madame Claude. Lady Frederick goes to the window, stands on a chair and waves her handkerchief. While she is doing this Captain Montgomerie enters.
How d'you do?
[Getting down.] How nice of you to come. I wanted to see you.
May I sit down?
Of course. There are one or two things I'd like to talk to you about.
Yes?
First I must thank you for your great kindness to Gerald. I didn't know last night that he owed you a good deal of money.
It's a mere trifle.
You must be very rich to call nine hundred pounds that?
I am.
[With a laugh.] All the same it's extremely good of you to give him plenty of time.
I told Gerald he could have till to-morrow.
Obviously he wants to settle with you as soon as ever he can.
[Quietly.] I often wonder why gambling debts are known as debts of honour.
[Looking at him steadily.] Of course I realise that if you choose to press for the money and Gerald can't pay – he'll have to send in his papers.
[Lightly.] You may be quite sure I have no wish to bring about such a calamity. By the way, have you thought over our little talk of last night?
No.
You would have been wise to do so.
My dear Captain Montgomerie, you really can't expect me to marry you because my brother has been so foolish as to lose more money at poker than he can afford.
Did you ever hear that my father was a money-lender?
A lucrative profession, I believe.
He found it so. He was a Polish Jew called Aaron Levitzki. He came to this country with three shillings in his pocket. He lent half-a-crown of it to a friend on the condition that he should be paid back seven and six in three days.
I'm not good at figures, but the interest sounds rather high.
It is. That was one of my father's specialities. From these humble beginnings his business grew to such proportions that at his death he was able to leave me the name and arms of the great family of Montgomerie and something over a million of money.
The result of thrift, industry, and good fortune.
My father was able to gratify all his ambitions but one. He was eaten up with the desire to move in good society, and this he was never able to achieve. His dying wish was that I should live in those circles which he knew only…
Across the counter?
Precisely. But my poor father was a little ignorant in these matters. To him one lord was as good as another. He thought a Marquess a finer man than an Earl, and a Viscount than a Baron. He would never have understood that a penniless Irish baronet might go into better society than many a belted earl.
And what is the application of this?
I wanted to explain to you one of the reasons which emboldened me last night to make you a proposal of marriage.
But surely you know some very nice people. I saw you lunching the other day with the widow of a city knight.
Many very excellent persons are glad to have me to dine with them. But I know quite well that they're not the real article. I'm as far off as ever from getting into those houses which you have been used to all your life. I'm not content with third-rate earls and rather seedy dowagers.
Forgive my frankness, but – aren't you rather a snob?
My father, Aaron Levitzki, married an English woman, and I have all the English virtues.
But I'm not quite sure that people would swallow you even as my husband.
They'd make a face, but they'd swallow me right enough. And when I asked them down to the best shoot in England they'd come to the conclusion that I agreed with them very well.
[Still rather amused.] Your offer is eminently businesslike, but you see I'm not a business woman. It doesn't appeal to me.
I only ask you to perform such of the duties of a wife as are required by Society. They are few enough in all conscience. I should wish you to entertain largely and receive my guests, be polite to me, at least in public, and go with me to the various places people go to. Otherwise I leave you entire freedom. You will find me generous and heedful to all your wishes.
Captain Montgomerie, I don't know how much of all that you have said is meant seriously. But, surely you're not choosing the right time to make such a proposal when my brother owes you so much money that if you care to be hard you can ruin him.
Why not?
D'you mean to say…?
I will be quite frank with you. I should never have allowed Gerald to lose so much money which there was no likelihood of his being able to pay, if I had not thought it earned me some claim upon your gratitude.
[Shortly.] Gerald will pay every penny he owes you to-morrow.
[Blandly.] Where d'you suppose he'll get it?
I have no doubt I shall be able to manage something.
Have you not tried this morning, entirely without success?
[Startled.] What?
You do not forget that you have sundry moneys of your own which are payable to-morrow?
How d'you know that?
I told you that when I took a thing in hand I carried it through. You went to Dick Cohen, and he told you he'd parted with the bills. Didn't you guess that only one man could have the least interest in taking them over?
You?
Yes.
Oh, God.
Come, come, don't be worried over it. There's nothing to be alarmed about. I'm a very decent chap – if you'd accepted me right away you would never have known that those bills were in my possession. Think it over once more. I'm sure we should get on well together. I can give you what you most need, money and the liberty to fling it away as recklessly as you choose; you can give me the assured and fixed position on which – my father's heart was set.
And if I don't accept, you'll make me a bankrupt and you'll ruin Gerald?
I refuse to consider that very unpleasant alternative.
Oh! I can't, I can't.
[Laughing.] But you must, you must. When shall I come for your answer? To-morrow? I'll come with the bills and Gerald's I.O.U. in my pocket, and you shall burn them yourself. Good-bye.
[He kisses her hand and goes out. Lady Frederick remains staring in front of her. Mereston enters, followed by Lady Mereston and Paradine.
[Going to her eagerly.] Hulloa! I wondered what on earth had become of you.
[With a laugh.] It's only two hours since I chased you away from me.
I'm afraid I bore you to death.
Don't be so silly. You know you don't.
Where are you going now?
I have rather a headache. I'm going to lie down.
I'm so sorry.
[Lady Frederick goes out. Mereston stares after her anxiously, and makes a step towards the door.
[Sharply.] Where are you going, Charlie?
I never asked Lady Frederick if I could do anything.
Good heavens, there are surely plenty of servants in the hotel to get her anything she wants.
Don't you think a drive in the motor would do her good?
[Unable to control herself.] Oh, I have no patience with you. I never saw such a ridiculous infatuation in my life.
Steady, old girl, steady.
What on earth d'you mean, mother?
Presumably you're not going to deny that you're in love with that woman.
[Growing pale.] Would you mind speaking of her as Lady Frederick?
You try me very much, Charlie. Please answer my question.
I don't want to seem unkind to you, mother, but I think you have no right to ask about my private affairs.
If you're going to talk this matter over you're more likely to come to an understanding if you both keep your tempers.
There's nothing I wish to discuss.
Don't be absurd, Charlie. You're with Lady Frederick morning, noon and night. She can never stir a yard from the hotel but you go flying after. You pester her with your ridiculous attentions.
[Blandly.] One's relations have always such an engaging frankness. Like a bad looking-glass, they always represent you with a crooked nose and a cast in your eye.
[To Mereston.] I have certainly a right to know what you mean by all this and what is going to come of it.
I don't know what will come of it.
The question that excites our curiosity is this: are you going to ask Lady Frederick to marry you?
I refuse to answer that. It seems to me excessively impertinent.
Come, come, my boy, you're too young to play the heavy father. We're both your friends. Hadn't you better make a clean breast of it? After all, your mother and I are interested in nothing so much as your welfare.
[Imploring.] Charlie!
Of course I'd ask her to marry me if I thought for a moment that she'd accept. But I'm so terrified that she'll refuse, and then perhaps I shall never see her again.
The boy's stark, staring mad.
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