No More Learning

It is his right.

MALONE. [grimly] I should not advise you to marry him on the strength of
that right, Miss Robinson.

Violet, who has almost lost her temper, controls herself with an effort;
unclenches her fingers; and resumes her seat with studied tranquillity
and reasonableness.

VIOLET. What objection have you to me, pray? My social position is as
good as Hector's, to say the least. He admits it.

MALONE. [shrewdly] You tell him so from time to time, eh? Hector's
social position in England, Miss Robinson, is just what I choose to
buy for him. I have made him a fair offer. Let him pick out the most
historic house, castle or abbey that England contains. The day that he
tells me he wants it for a wife worthy of its traditions, I buy it for
him, and give him the means of keeping it up.

VIOLET. What do you mean by a wife worthy of its traditions? Cannot any
well bred woman keep such a house for him?

MALONE. No: she must be born to it.

VIOLET. Hector was not born to it, was he?

MALONE. His granmother was a barefooted Irish girl that nursed me by a
turf fire. Let him marry another such, and I will not stint her marriage
portion. Let him raise himself socially with my money or raise somebody
else so long as there is a social profit somewhere, I'll regard my
expenditure as justified. But there must be a profit for someone. A
marriage with you would leave things just where they are.

VIOLET. Many of my relations would object very much to my marrying the
grandson of a common woman, Mr Malone. That may be prejudice; but so is
your desire to have him marry a title prejudice.

MALONE. [rising, and approaching her with a scrutiny in which there is
a good deal of reluctant respect] You seem a pretty straightforward
downright sort of a young woman.

VIOLET. I do not see why I should be made miserably poor because I
cannot make profits for you. Why do you want to make Hector unhappy?

MALONE. He will get over it all right enough. Men thrive better on
disappointments in love than on disappointments in money. I daresay you
think that sordid; but I know what I'm talking about. My father died of
starvation in Ireland in the black 47, Maybe you've heard of it.

VIOLET. The Famine?

MALONE. [with smouldering passion] No, the starvation. When a country
is full of food, and exporting it, there can be no famine. My father
was starved dead; and I was starved out to America in my mother's
arms. English rule drove me and mine out of Ireland. Well, you can keep
Ireland. I and my like are coming back to buy England; and we'll buy the
best of it. I want no middle class properties and no middle class women
for Hector. That's straightforward isn't it, like yourself?

VIOLET. [icily pitying his sentimentality] Really, Mr Malone, I am
astonished to hear a man of your age and good sense talking in that
romantic way. Do you suppose English noblemen will sell their places to
you for the asking?

MALONE. I have the refusal of two of the oldest family mansions in
England. One historic owner can't afford to keep all the rooms dusted:
the other can't afford the death duties. What do you say now?

VIOLET. Of course it is very scandalous; but surely you know that the
Government will sooner or later put a stop to all these Socialistic
attacks on property.

MALONE. [grinning] D'y' think they'll be able to get that done before I
buy the house--or rather the abbey? They're both abbeys.

VIOLET. [putting that aside rather impatiently] Oh, well, let us talk
sense, Mr Malone. You must feel that we haven't been talking sense so
far.

MALONE. I can't say I do. I mean all I say.

VIOLET. Then you don't know Hector as I do. He is romantic and faddy--he
gets it from you, I fancy--and he wants a certain sort of wife to take
care of him. Not a faddy sort of person, you know.

MALONE. Somebody like you, perhaps?

VIOLET. [quietly] Well, yes. But you cannot very well ask me to
undertake this with absolutely no means of keeping up his position.

MALONE. [alarmed] Stop a bit, stop a bit. Where are we getting to? I'm
not aware that I'm asking you to undertake anything.

VIOLET. Of course, Mr Malone, you can make it very difficult for me to
speak to you if you choose to misunderstand me.

MALONE. [half bewildered] I don't wish to take any unfair advantage; but
we seem to have got off the straight track somehow.

Straker, with the air of a man who has been making haste, opens the
little gate, and admits Hector, who, snorting with indignation, comes
upon the lawn, and is making for his father when Violet, greatly
dismayed, springs up and intercepts him. Straker doer not wait; at least
he does not remain visibly within earshot.

VIOLET. Oh, how unlucky! Now please, Hector, say nothing. Go away until
I have finished speaking to your father.

HECTOR. [inexorably] No, Violet: I mean to have this thing out, right
away. [He puts her aside; passes her by; and faces his father, whose
cheeks darken as his Irish blood begins to simmer]. Dad: you've not
played this hand straight.

MALONE. Hwat d'y'mean?

HECTOR. You've opened a letter addressed to me. You've impersonated me
and stolen a march on this lady. That's dishonorable.

MALONE. [threateningly] Now you take care what you're saying, Hector.
Take care, I tell you.

HECTOR. I have taken care. I am taking care. I'm taking care of my honor
and my position in English society.

MALONE. [hotly] Your position has been got by my money: do you know
that?

HECTOR. Well, you've just spoiled it all by opening that letter. A
letter from an English lady, not addressed to you--a confidential
letter! a delicate letter! a private letter opened by my father! That's
a sort of thing a man can't struggle against in England. The sooner
we go back together the better. [He appeals mutely to the heavens to
witness the shame and anguish of two outcasts].

VIOLET. [snubbing him with an instinctive dislike for scene making]
Don't be unreasonable, Hector. It was quite natural of Mr Malone to open
my letter: his name was on the envelope.

MALONE. There! You've no common sense, Hector. I thank you, Miss
Robinson.

HECTOR. I thank you, too. It's very kind of you. My father knows no
better.

MALONE. [furiously clenching his fists] Hector--

HECTOR. [with undaunted moral force] Oh, it's no use hectoring me. A
private letter's a private letter, dad: you can't get over that.

MALONE [raising his voice] I won't be talked back to by you, d'y' hear?

VIOLET. Ssh! please, please. Here they all come.

Father and son, checked, glare mutely at one another as Tanner comes in
through the little gate with Ramsden, followed by Octavius and Ann.

VIOLET. Back already!

TANNER. The Alhambra is not open this afternoon.

VIOLET. What a sell!

Tanner passes on, and presently finds himself between Hector and a
strange elder, both apparently on the verge of personal combat. He looks
from one to the other for an explanation. They sulkily avoid his eye,
and nurse their wrath in silence.

RAMSDEN. Is it wise for you to be out in the sunshine with such a
headache, Violet?

TANNER. Have you recovered too, Malone?

VIOLET. Oh, I forgot. We have not all met before. Mr Malone: won't you
introduce your father?

HECTOR. [with Roman firmness] No, I will not. He is no father of mine.

MALONE. [very angry] You disown your dad before your English friends, do
you?

VIOLET. Oh please don't make a scene.

Ann and Octavius, lingering near the gate, exchange an astonished
glance, and discreetly withdraw up the steps to the garden, where they
can enjoy the disturbance without intruding. On their way to the steps
Ann sends a little grimace of mute sympathy to Violet, who is standing
with her back to the little table, looking on in helpless annoyance as
her husband soars to higher and higher moral eminences without the least
regard to the old man's millions.

HECTOR. I'm very sorry, Miss Robinson; but I'm contending for a
principle. I am a son, and, I hope, a dutiful one; but before everything
I'm a Man! ! ! And when dad treats my private letters as his own, and
takes it on himself to say that I shan't marry you if I am happy and
fortunate enough to gain your consent, then I just snap my fingers and
go my own way.

TANNER. Marry Violet!

RAMSDEN. Are you in your senses?

TANNER. Do you forget what we told you?

HECTOR. [recklessly] I don't care what you told me.

RAMSDEN. [scandalized] Tut tut, sir! Monstrous! [he flings away towards
the gate, his elbows quivering with indignation]

TANNER. Another madman! These men in love should be locked up. [He gives
Hector up as hopeless, and turns away towards the garden, but Malone,
taking offence in a new direction, follows him and compels him, by the
aggressivenes of his tone, to stop].

MALONE. I don't understand this. Is Hector not good enough for this
lady, pray?

TANNER. My dear sir, the lady is married already. Hector knows it; and
yet he persists in his infatuation. Take him home and lock him up.

MALONE. [bitterly] So this is the high-born social tone I've spoilt by
my ignorant, uncultivated behavior! Makin love to a married woman! [He
comes angrily between Hector and Violet, and almost bawls into Hector's
left ear] You've picked up that habit of the British aristocracy, have
you?

HECTOR. That's all right.
Don't you trouble yourself about that. I'll
answer for the morality of what I'm doing.

TANNER. [coming forward to Hector's right hand with flashing eyes] Well
said, Malone! You also see that mere marriage laws are not morality! I
agree with you; but unfortunately Violet does not.

MALONE. I take leave to doubt that, sir. [Turning on Violet] Let me tell
you, Mrs Robinson, or whatever your right name is, you had no right to
send that letter to my son when you were the wife of another man.

HECTOR. [outraged] This is the last straw. Dad: you have insulted my
wife.

MALONE. YOUR wife!

TANNER. YOU the missing husband! Another moral impostor! [He smites his
brow, and collapses into Malone's chair].

MALONE. You've married without my consent!

RAMSDEN. You have deliberately humbugged us, sir!

HECTOR. Here: I have had just about enough of being badgered. Violet and
I are married: that's the long and the short of it. Now what have you
got to say--any of you?

MALONE. I know what I've got to say. She's married a beggar.

HECTOR. No; she's married a Worker [his American pronunciation imparts
an overwhelming intensity to this simple and unpopular word]. I start to
earn my own living this very afternoon.

MALONE. [sneering angrily] Yes: you're very plucky now, because you got
your remittance from me yesterday or this morning, I reckon. Wait til
it's spent. You won't be so full of cheek then.

HECTOR. [producing a letter from his pocketbook] Here it is [thrusting
it on his father]. Now you just take your remittance and yourself out of
my life. I'm done with remittances; and I'm done with you. I don't sell
the privilege of insulting my wife for a thousand dollars.

MALONE. [deeply wounded and full of concern] Hector: you don't know what
poverty is.

HECTOR. [fervidly] Well, I want to know what it is. I want'be a Man.
Violet: you come along with me, to your own home: I'll see you through.

OCTAVIUS. [jumping down from the garden to the lawn and running to
Hector's left hand] I hope you'll shake hands with me before you go,
Hector. I admire and respect you more than I can say. [He is affected
almost to tears as they shake hands].

VIOLET. [also almost in tears, but of vexation] Oh don't be an idiot,
Tavy. Hector's about as fit to become a workman as you are.

TANNER. [rising from his chair on the other ride of Hector] Never fear:
there's no question of his becoming a navvy, Mrs Malone. [To Hector]
There's really no difficulty about capital to start with. Treat me as a
friend: draw on me.

OCTAVIUS. [impulsively] Or on me.

MALONE. [with fierce jealousy] Who wants your dirty money? Who should he
draw on but his own father? [Tanner and Octavius recoil, Octavius rather
hurt, Tanner consoled by the solution of the money difficulty. Violet
looks up hopefully]. Hector: don't be rash, my boy. I'm sorry for what I
said: I never meant to insult Violet: I take it all back. She's just the
wife you want: there!

HECTOR. [Patting him on the shoulder] Well, that's all right, dad. Say
no more: we're friends again. Only, I take no money from anybody.

MALONE. [pleading abjectly] Don't be hard on me, Hector. I'd rather you
quarrelled and took the money than made friends and starved. You don't
know what the world is: I do.

HECTOR. No, no, NO. That's fixed: that's not going to change. [He passes
his father inexorably by, and goes to Violet]. Come, Mrs Malone: you've
got to move to the hotel with me, and take your proper place before the
world.

VIOLET. But I must go in, dear, and tell Davis to pack. Won't you go on
and make them give you a room overlooking the garden for me? I'll join
you in half an hour.

HECTOR. Very well. You'll dine with us, Dad, won't you?

MALONE. [eager to conciliate him] Yes, yes.

HECTOR. See you all later. [He waves his hand to Ann, who has now been
joined by Tanner, Octavius, and Ramsden in the garden, and goes out
through the little gate, leaving his father and Violet together on the
lawn].

MALONE. You'll try to bring him to his senses, Violet: I know you will.

VIOLET. I had no idea he could be so headstrong. If he goes on like
that, what can I do?

MALONE. Don't be discurridged: domestic pressure may be slow; but it's
sure. You'll wear him down. Promise me you will.

VIOLET. I will do my best. Of course I think it's the greatest nonsense
deliberately making us poor like that.

MALONE. Of course it is.

VIOLET. [after a moment's reflection] You had better give me the
remittance. He will want it for his hotel bill. I'll see whether I can
induce him to accept it. Not now, of course, but presently.

MALONE. [eagerly] Yes, yes, yes: that's just the thing [he hands her the
thousand dollar bill, and adds cunningly] Y'understand that this is only
a bachelor allowance.

VIOLET. [Coolly] Oh, quite. [She takes it]. Thank you. By the way, Mr
Malone, those two houses you mentioned--the abbeys.

MALONE. Yes?

VIOLET. Don't take one of them until I've seen it. One never knows what
may be wrong with these places.

MALONE. I won't. I'll do nothing without consulting you, never fear.

VIOLET. [politely, but without a ray of gratitude] Thanks: that will
be much the best way. [She goes calmly back to the villa, escorted
obsequiously by Malone to the upper end of the garden].

TANNER. [drawing Ramsden's attention to Malone's cringing attitude as he
takes leave of Violet] And that poor devil is a billionaire! one of the
master spirits of the age! Led on a string like a pug dog by the first
girl who takes the trouble to despise him. I wonder will it ever come to
that with me. [He comes down to the lawn. ]

RAMSDEN. [following him] The sooner the better for you.

MALONE. [clapping his hands as he returns through the garden] That'll be
a grand woman for Hector. I wouldn't exchange her for ten duchesses. [He
descends to the lawn and comes between Tanner and Ramsden].

RAMSDEN. [very civil to the billionaire] It's an unexpected pleasure to
find you in this corner of the world, Mr Malone. Have you come to buy up
the Alhambra?

MALONE. Well, I don't say I mightn't. I think I could do better with it
than the Spanish government. But that's not what I came about. To tell
you the truth, about a month ago I overheard a deal between two men over
a bundle of shares. They differed about the price: they were young and
greedy, and didn't know that if the shares were worth what was bid for
them they must be worth what was asked, the margin being too small to
be of any account, you see. To amuse meself, I cut in and bought the
shares. Well, to this day I haven't found out what the business is. The
office is in this town; and the name is Mendoza, Limited. Now whether
Mendoza's a mine, or a steamboat line, or a bank, or a patent article--

TANNER. He's a man. I know him: his principles are thoroughly
commercial. Let us take you round the town in our motor, Mr Malone, and
call on him on the way.

MALONE. If you'll be so kind, yes. And may I ask who--

TANNER. Mr Roebuck Ramsden, a very old friend of your daughter-in-law.

MALONE. Happy to meet you, Mr Ramsden.

RAMSDEN. Thank you. Mr Tanner is also one of our circle.

MALONE. Glad to know you also, Mr Tanner.

TANNER. Thanks. [Malone and Ramsden go out very amicably through the
little gate. Tanner calls to Octavius, who is wandering in the garden
with Ann] Tavy! [Tavy comes to the steps, Tanner whispers loudly to
him] Violet has married a financier of brigands. [Tanner hurries away
to overtake Malone and Ramsden. Ann strolls to the steps with an idle
impulse to torment Octavius].

ANN. Won't you go with them, Tavy?

OCTAVIUS. [tears suddenly flushing his eyes] You cut me to the heart,
Ann, by wanting me to go [he comes down on the lawn to hide his face
from her. She follows him caressingly].

ANN. Poor Ricky Ticky Tavy! Poor heart!

OCTAVIUS. It belongs to you, Ann. Forgive me: I must speak of it. I love
you. You know I love you.

ANN. What's the good, Tavy? You know that my mother is determined that I
shall marry Jack.

OCTAVIUS. [amazed] Jack!

ANN. It seems absurd, doesn't it?

OCTAVIUS. [with growing resentment] Do you mean to say that Jack has
been playing with me all this time? That he has been urging me not to
marry you because he intends to marry you himself?

ANN. [alarmed] No no: you mustn't lead him to believe that I said that:
I don't for a moment think that Jack knows his own mind.