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Page 58
_Susan [sighing]._ Yes, sir, I remember.
_Nokes [angrily]._ Why do you call me "sir," Susan?
_Susan._ Because when you look so stern and talk so severely you don't
seem to be the same good, kind-hearted husband that I know you are. I'll
keep my promise, sir, not to hold out my hand to your unfortunate
nephew, but please don't let us talk about it. It makes me feel less
reverence, less respect, and even less gratitude, sir,--it does,
indeed,--since your very generosity toward me has made me the instrument
of punishment, and--as I feel--of wrong. I have been poor myself, and
what must that young couple think of my never answering their touching
letter, put in my hands as I first crossed this threshold?
_Nokes [testily]._ Touching letter, indeed! Any begging-letter impostor
would have written as good a one. It's all humbug, Susan. Mrs. Charles
would like to see you whipped, if I know women. And as for my
nephew--[_Noises of wheels heard, and bell rings._] But there's the
front-door bell. Here are our visitors from town. Had you not better
leave the room for a minute or two, to wash those tears away? It would
never do, you know, to exhibit a Montmorenci with red eyes. [_Exit
SUSAN._]
_Nokes [solus]._ That's the only matter about which my dear Susan and I
are ever likely to fall out,--the extending what she calls the hand of
forgiveness to Charles and his wife, just because they've got a baby.
I'll never do it if they have twelve. I said to myself I wouldn't when
he wrote to me about this marriage, and I always keep my word.
_Enter SPONGE, RASPER, and ROBINSON._
_Nokes [shaking hands with all]._ Welcome, my friends, welcome to the
Tamarisks.
_Robinson._ Thank ye, Nokes, thank ye. But how changed we are at the
Tamarisks! [_Pointing to the piano and portfolio._] I mean how changed
we are for the better! ain't we, Sponge? ain't we, Rasper?
_Sponge [fawningly]._ It was always a charming retreat, but we now see
everywhere, in addition to its former beauties, the magical influence of
a female hand.
_Rasper [vulgarly]._ Yes; no doubt of that. Directly I saw the new
coach-house, I said, "By Jove, that's Mrs. N----'s doing! _She'll_ spend
his money for him, will Mrs. N----."
_Nokes [annoyed]._ You were very good, I'm sure.
_Sponge._ But it is here, within-doors, my dear Nokes, that the great
transformation-scene has been effected. Pianos, harpsichords,
sketch-books,--these all bespeak the presence of lovely and accomplished
woman.
_Robinson._ May we venture to peep into this portfolio, my good
fellow?--that is, if the contents have the interest for us that we
believe them to have. It holds Mrs. Nokes's sketches, I presume.
_Nokes._ Yes, yes; they are her sketches and nobody else's. [_Aside_]
Certainly they are, for I bought them for her in Piccadilly.--But here
she comes to answer for herself. [_Enter SUSAN._] Sus--I mean Constance,
my dear, let me introduce to you three friends of my bachelor days, Mr.
Sponge, Mr. Rasper, Mr. Robinson.
_Susan [speaking broken English]._ Gentlemens, I am mos glad to see you.
My husband--hees friends are mai friends.
_Rasper [aside]._ She's devilish civil. If she had been English I
should almost think she was afraid of us.
_Sponge [bowing]._ You are most kind, madam. The noble are always kind.
[_Aside to Nokes._] She's all blood, my dear fellow.
_Nokes [looking toward her in alarm]._ What? Where?
_Sponge._ No, no; don't misunderstand me. I mean she's all high birth.
If I had met your wife anywhere--in an omnibus, for instance--and only
heard her speak, I should have exclaimed, "There's a Montmorenci!"
_Nokes [pleased]._ Should you really, now, my dear Sponge? Well, that
shows you are a man of discernment.
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