[• ^-^/ .'^-t "t-.^" '*^'- \/ -— ^1°-* lOv^, ° y^^^ ^^ .0' -v *•..'• ,V^ \ %<* ^ '.. «' ^G PASSION PLAYLETS PASSION PLAYLETS BY JOHN JEX THE CORNHILL COMPANY BOSTON A^ K^ Copyright, 1918 THE CORNHILL COMPANY •'VIOLET SOULS" Copyright 1914 by John Jex under title ' ' The Corespondent " "MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS" Copyright by John Jex. 1916 THE UNNECESSARY ATOM Copyright by John Jex, 1913 under title "The Span" Copyright, 1918, by John Jex, as dramatic composition, "The Passion Playlets." All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages !V-7 1318 ©aA5()6589 CONTENTS PAG£ Violet Souls 3 The Nest 41 Mr. Willoughby Calls 67 The Unnecessary Atom 95 VIOLET SOULS A Satire PASSION PLAYLETS VIOLET SOULS The curtain rises on an elaborately furnished bedroom, the color scheme for which includes as many shades of violet as can be conveniently or otherwise procured. It could not be the bed- room of any wealthy woman; it must be Mrs. Hamilton Van Braam Trainees bedroom. Mrs. H. Van B. Traine has a violet soul. I might state, for the enlightenment of those humble readers who have not become educated by mixing with the elite, that only our multimillionaires can afford to possess violet souls. Artists sometimes claim to be blessed with them, but theirs are rarely, if ever, genuine. Any one possessing a violet soul must also possess a town house, a country house, a chateau in France, a couple of seagoing yachts, a dozen automobiles, and every- thing else one can think of, all designed and decorated to har- monize with the soul. I do not know where violet souls originate, but I do know that they exist — and I also know that they are subject to a malady commonly called dissatisfaction, which is the fore- runner of that social disease termed divorce. It is little wonder that I forget the scene when speaking of such things as violet souls! But — the scene must be completed before you can be admitted to the sacred coterie. It is, then, a bedroom into which we look, — a bedroom with a canopied bed which contains nothing less and little more than Mrs. Hamil- 4 PASSION PLAYLETS ton Van Braam Traine herself. I say that the bed contains little more than Mrs. Traine herself because Mrs. H. Van B. T. is quite lightly, almost shockingly, clad in a filmy violet robe- de-chambre. There should be a dressing-table somewhere in the room, be- cause Josephine, the maid, from both Paris and London, is heating Mrs. Trainees curling-iron in an electric heater, — and electric curling-iron heaters do not usually repose upon the floor — in the very best homes. There must, of course, be a French casement, almost hidden by exquisite " drapes,'' against which our leading lady can pose sometimes, during the course of the play. Two doorways will be quite enough to enable me to get the characters on and of the scene, and give them reasonable ex- cuses for coming and going. I cannot, for example, take as many liberties as my more worthy contemporaries and send the maid through the same doorway every time she exits, no matter whether she goes to fetch madame's breakfast or her dancing-slippers . Mrs. Hamilton Van Braam Traine does not lend her dancing-slippers to the cook to wear to garden- parties. Mrs. Traine lives in Fifth Avenue; she does not live just off the Avenue. It has, perhaps, taken her a long time to get into the Avenue; so we must not forget that she is there. There are two more characters in the play: Ferdinand Czibulka, an Hungarian violinist, whom Mrs. Traine is im- porting duty free, and Hamilton, Mrs. T.'s husband in the eyes of the law. I may as well be frank and inform you that Hamilton is not Mrs. Trainees soul-mate; Hamilton is her husband — and a bank president. Bank presidents, of course, never possess violet souls. As for Ferdinand, — well, — on with the play! VIOLET SOULS MRS. TRAINE Place another pillow under my head, Josephine. Josephine, a good servant, obeys instantly, and Mrs. Traine, now sitting erect in the bed, takes up an illustrated French magazine, to read — the illustrations. The jokes are funny and the illustrations clever. But why do the jokesmiths always use words not found in the best English- French dic- tionaries? Mrs. Traine cannot understand it. Mrs. Traine cannot understand the jokes. Perhaps the light from the lamp, on the stand beside the bed, does not fall directly upon her magazine. A single sigh will bring the maid. Oh dear! JOSEPHINE What does madame wish? MRS. TRAINE There's something wrong with the light. The maid turns the lamp around, reducing the amount of light upon the magazine about one-half. That is much better, Josephine. JOSEPHINE Madame is restless this morning. MRS. TRAINE I did not sleep well last night. JOSEPHINE A cup of tea might quiet your nerves 6 PASSION PLAYLETS MRS. TRAINE I have been thinking about poor little To Wi. JOSEPHINE You must not think about To Wi, madame. He was a dear — but he is dead and gone — and you cannot help him now. MRS. TRAINE He was such a love ! JOSEPHINE He was a sweet little dog, madame. Mrs. Traine feels that she really should shed tears for the dear departed dog, but the clever maid cannot stand calmly aside and see her mistress's make-up washed away in a second. Mistress and maid worked together for a whole hour to get that make-up on just right. Please do not cry, madame. I shall never get you ready to receive the gentleman. Your eyes will be all red and swollen. The steamship will surely dock before I can get you ready. MRS. TRAINE Do you suppose that curling-iron will ever get hot? JOSEPHINE It will not get hot if you keep on calling me. Each time you call I have to take it out of the heater. Mrs. Traine sighs and sinks down among the pillows; but of course she cannot rest, — she slept soundly all night and it's now past ten in the morning. VIOLET SOULS 7 MRS. TRAINE Is the fog Still thick, Josephine? Josephine tiptoes to the window and looks out. She does not draw hack the curtains; she sticks her head between them. Josephine is not afraid of daylight, hut then, she has no violet soul like her mistress, JOSEPHINE The fog is still very thick. MRS. TRAINE Poor Ferdie! It is ohvious that the fog strikes terror to her heart, — and no wonder, when we consider that Ferdinand Czihulka, one of the greatest violinists in Budapest, is due to arrive this very morning. Mrs. Traine captured Ferdinand sometime during her last stay on the Continent, and — think of it! — when Ferdi- nand discovered that she had money, he agreed, after much per- suasion, to come to America and live with the Hamilton Van Braam Traines for an indefinite period. Hamilton does not know this, — hut then, there are also many other things which Hamilton does not know. A man with millions cannot take the time to discover what his wife is doing. A JOSEPHINE The gentleman will not arrive today? MRS. TRAINE I'm afraid that the steamship is fog-bound. JOSEPHINE They may all be held at quarantine, as I was. 8 PASSION PLAYLETS MRS. TRAINE Quarantine? No, no, they shall not quarantine Ferdie! He will die if he cannot practise his music. Oh, why do you think of such terrible things, Josephine? I was so overstrung anyway — and now — you — you — JOSEPHINE It was merely a suggestion, madame. It was merely a suggestion. MRS. TRAINE There is no more horrible picture that you could suggest to my mind. Think of it! — the great Ferdinand Czibulka detained in that miserable little quarantine station. Oh, it is horrible! JOSEPHINE They will doubtless set him free, madame. MRS. TRAINE They shall free him! I shall see to it that he is not detained there for a single minute. The very idea of such a thing is preposterous. Her body is convulsed with sobs and the maid must swiftly shift the conversation. JOSEPHINE What a great man he is. He seems to be well known the world over. I have seen his name on the bill-boards in London. MRS. TRAINE How they adore him over there! JOSEPHINE Oh yes, madame, he is great. VIOLET SOULS 9 MRS. TRAINE He is wonderful. He plays divinely. JOSEPHINE My mistress went simply mad over him. She had his pictures in every room of the house — everywhere. MRS. TRAINE Anxiously. Did your mistress know him — well? JOSEPHINE Oh, no, — that is, he never came to the house; — but when I was in Budapest with Lady Florence she sent him flowers every day. MRS. TRAINE Pink roses? JOSEPHINE Yes, madame. MRS. TRAINE I remember them. He used to ship them right off to the hospitals. He detests anything pink. JOSEPHINE It was good of him, madame, to make the poor sick people happy. MRS. TRAINE What would cheer them would annoy him. He lives always in a world of beautifully blended colors. 10 PASSION PLAYLETS JOSEPHINE Curling Mrs. Trainees hair with the iron. When I was in Paris, before I went to London, my mis- tress, Madame Frochot, used to rave about him, too — all the time. I always knew when he was in town — she gave me so many days out. MRS. TRAINE You stupid girl, that iron is too hot! It is not the iron which hums her. Josephine is such an innocent little maid! JOSEPHINE I am so sorry, madame. It shall not happen again. MRS. TRAINE You must stop. I can't have you near me this morn- ing. You make me nervous. Arrange my gowns, or — or do anything you like — provided you keep at a distance. JOSEPHINE The gowns are all ready for you, madame — all just as you wish them. I am sure that the great artist will say he has never seen so many beautiful shades of violet before. You will be a picture, madame, — all the time. MRS. TRAINE Put on my stockings, Josephine. Mr. Traine is so American that he might think it strange if I welcomed my guest without them. The maid fetches the stockings and kneels beside the bed. Mrs. Traine has one pale pink foot exposed when Hamilton ^ brute of a husband that he is, enters unannounced and causes her to blush crimson. VIOLET SOULS ii HAMILTON Good morning, my dear! Mrs. Trainees icy stare would seem to he sufficient rebuke , — hut then, Hamilton must he taught, here and now, that no husband of modern times has the authority to enter his wife's bedroom unbidden. MRS. TRAINE How dare you enter this room without permission! How dare you shame me Hke this before a servant! HAMILTON I didn't think, dear. I promise to be very careful in future — tho' you must admit that I have seen your feet at the seashore — particularly when you bathed without stockings in France. He remembers her bathing-suit well. It is quite likely that he carried it from the hotel to the bath-house in his vest- pocket. MRS. TRAINE Stop! I refuse to have my limbs discussed. You shock me beyond measure, Hamilton. She sinks down among the pillows with a self-satisfied smile. She surely has made Hamilton realize that he is merely her husband. HAMILTON You look very charming this morning. MRS. TRAINE Could you have thought of anything more bromidic! You are such a silly flatterer. 12 PASSION PLAYLETS HAMILTON You are mistaken, dear; I am an admiring acquaintance. MRS. TRAINE I wish you would not annoy me further. I am anxious to dress, Hamilton. If I had thought that there was any danger of my husband intruding I'd surely have ordered Josephine to lock the door. HAMILTON It's a gray morning — and perhaps you didn't sleep soundly. MRS. TRAINE I miss little To Wi. I am desperately lonely without him. I almost go mad at night. HAMILTON If you go to the Orient next year you can get another dog. MRS. TRAINE There never could be another little To Wi. HAMILTON rU admit that he was a nice enough canine — although he was always in the way ; but other people have pets which they love as dearly as you did To Wi. MRS. TRAINE Don't upset me, Hamilton. To Wi was the only lamb child in the world. VIOLET SOULS 13 HAMILTON Child? He was a pretty good animal — Vm not saying that he wasn't — only he was not big enough for a kennel and he didn't belong in the house — or in bed. MRS. TRAINE How can you say such things when you know my heart is breaking? Have you no pity? HAMILTON I'll not speak of him again — ever. MRS. TRAINE Ferdie, my musician, should be here by noon, at the very latest. HAMILTON Do you call him Ferdie? MRS. TRAINE Of course I do. You will address him as Czibulka — HAMILTON But, my dear, I am an American, and such names are — MRS. TRAINE If you are so ignorant, you might write it on a slip of paper and memorize it at your leisure. You might also accustom yourself to the name of Czegled. HAMILTON Czegled? Is that really a name? 14 PASSION PLAYLETS MRS. TRAINE It is the name of the town in which he was born. HAMILTON It must be a great city! Czibulka and Czegled. So the whole family is coming. MRS. TRAINE You silly fellow, Czegled is Ferdie's child — and he's wonderful. HAMILTON I didn't know that your musician was even married. MRS. TRAINE Of course he's not married — he's far too clever for that. Czegled is his toy poodle. Oh, he is such a dear, too, — just about the size To Wi was. HAMILTON I'll arrange for the valet to look after the dog. MRS. TRAINE Ferdie would not allow it. Czegled is with his father always — except, of course, when Ferdie plays at concerts; then he is petted by the ladies in the dressing-room. HAMILTON No sooner do we get rid of one dog than another arrives. MRS. TRAINE If we must quarrel, Hamilton, — VIOLET SOULS 15 HAMILTON A thousand apologies, my dear, if the fault is mine. I shall not speak of either To Wi or Czegled again. He lights a cigarette — thoughtlessly — although Mrs. T. smokes in this room whenever she wishes — and that is often. MRS. TRAINE Please do not smoke. You forget that this is my bedroom. Hamilton discards the cigarette meekly, very meekly. You act very strangely this morning, Hamilton. Your pet, the stock-market, has been open for half an hour and still you will not leave me. HAMILTON My car isn't here. I left orders downstairs for them to call me as soon as it came. MRS. TRAINE I forgot to tell you that you would have to use my car this morning. I sent yours for Ferdie. HAMILTON You don't seem to realize what might happen to us if the bottom dropped out of the market sometime when I was absent from the office. MRS. TRAINE Witness how the very mention of money bruises a genuine violet soul: The stock-market! Money! Have you no ideals? Have you no soul? Is your brain simply a conglomerate i6 PASSION PLAYLETS of foolish figures? The world's greatest musician, Ferdi- nand Czibulka, is about to honor us with his presence here, and yet you would growl, if I allowed it, simply because this wonderful creature deprives you of your car. I don't understand you, Hamilton. I am afraid that I shall never understand you. HAMILTON I can't, for the life of me, see why your coupe de ville would not have suited the fellow. MRS. TRAINE The cushions in your limousine are so much deeper, so much more " comfy." Ferdie is a very keen observer — he notices all such little details, and if they are missing it discomforts him. HAMILTON I hope to heaven that he is not one of those " temper- mental " fellows! MRS. TRAINE He is a mosque of ideals — if that is what you mean. HAMILTON I don't understand the language of Bohemia. It's not quite the same, you know, as that spoken down in Wall Street. MRS. TRAINE I am not in the least interested in Bohemia, and I resent your thinly veiled accusation. You do not seem to appre- ciate the importance of Ferdinand Czibulka's visit. Per- haps you fail to recall the fact that one of our neigh- bors became the leader of her set simply because she was VIOLET SOULS 17 able to import great artists over whom her women friends raved. Call it a game, if you choose, — it is, nev- ertheless, well worth playing. HAMILTON Play it as you would any other game and I shall not object; — but this idiotic talk about violet souls, which I've heard of late, is — He completes it with a shrug of his shoulders. He dare not utter the words which would quite properly express his disgust. MRS. TRAINE I do not ask you to believe in anything, Hamilton. I cannot reasonably expect you to have the finer instincts with which great artists are blessed. HAMILTON Look at this room ! Who ever heard of a violet bedroom ! MRS. TRAINE I could no longer sleep in a pink room ; and I should like to remind you again that this is my room — to which you are admitted only when I wish to talk with you privately — concerning my accounts. Hamilton I bless you for one thing, my dear; — you always speak frankly, even to your husband. He goes over to the window and looks out. Your car is waiting for me, and I shall use it to-day — but only to-day. 1 8 PASSION PLAYLETS MRS. TRAINE Please close the curtains. The light hurts my eyes. Hamilton would reply if it were not that strange sounds^ coming from the hallway, suddenly command his attention. It might he a dog fight , hut it is not; it is Ferdinand Czihulka threatening to kill the hutler who has refused him admittance to madame's hedroom without orders. THE BUTLER You cannot see madame, she is — FERDINAND We hear him, hut do not see him — yet. He has the true appearance of a musician; therefore he must he kept out of sight as long as possihle. See her? Of course I shall see her! Have I not come all the way from Budapest just to look into her eyes! HAMILTON It is — MRS. TRAINE It's Ferdie! — my wonderful Ferdie! HAMILTON I thought I was not mistaken. He is a clothed statue of marhle — as they say in novels ; at any rate, he must have the appearance of a Daniel watching the gateway through which the lions make their first entrance into the den from the starving-pen. And indeed it is a starved lion that dashes in, hoping to prey upon this man of money. VIOLET SOULS 19 FERDINAND Ah, you adorable little creature! At last I am with you again ! MRS. TRAINE Ferdie ! She would gladly say more; hut Hamilton is, after all, her husband in the eyes of the law. FERDINAND At last! He mistakes Hamilton for a valet and deposits his coat and hat in the meek man's arms. You are the only servant here who keeps his mouth shut. Take them to my rooms — and be careful not to muss them. Hamilton's arms fall limply to his sides, and of course the coat and hat fall with them. He waits only long enough to see Ferdinand drop down upon the side of the bed and kiss Mrs. Trainees hands feverishly, before he makes a hasty exit through the nearest doorway. Think of it! — they were not going to let me see you. MRS. TRAINE They are your servants as well as mine, Ferdie. They shall obey your every command. FERDINAND Perhaps they did not recognize me because I am so di- sheveled. MRS. TRAINE Poor little Ferdie! What has happened to you? 20 PASSION PLAYLETS FERDINAND That awful cabman — he will not take my Hungarian money for the fare. What am I to do about it? MRS. TRAINE Cab? Did you not come in the car? FERDINAND There was no car — nobody to cheer — no great crowd — no welcome ; — nothing. I did not know where you lived . I have wasted hours trying to find this place. I am so terribly upset. MRS. TRAINE The limousine has been at the pier since daybreak. FERDINAND I tell you there was no car. It was all dark, too, when I landed. MRS. TRAINE You have ridden around town since early morning? FERDINAND I have been riding for hours — through parks — under screeching trains — through roars of awful noises. Oh, I am all upset, and — and — He might he fainting — yea, dying. MRS. TRAINE What's the matter — Ferdie? VIOLET SOULS 21 FERDINAND Where — did — I — leave — little — Czegled? MRS. TRAINE Don't tell me that you've lost the little darling! FERDINAND Let me think. I never can think when I am excited. Yes, I must have left him in that awful cab. MRS. TRAINE Josephine! Josephine! JOSEPHINE What is it you wish, madame? MRS. TRAINE Run down to the street and rescue little Czegled. Run! Run fast; don't walk. Josephine goes in search of Czegled, hut not without a shudder, for Czegled has a had name and he may he a had dog. Imagine reading a sign on some gate-post, " Beware of our dog, Czegled.'" Would you venture into any front yard thus posted? You would not! FERDINAND My child will be killed — I know he will be killed. Of course that cah is the hest resting-place Czegled has found in many a day, hut it's no time for Ferdinand to admit it. 22 PASSION PLAYLETS MRS. TRAINE I cannot allow myself to imagine it — it's so horrible. iVo wonder Mrs. Traine shrinks from her horrible imagin- ations. What is the use of importing a great musician if h^ hasn't either a crazy-looking dog or a baby elephant for a pet^ so that the newspapers can truthfully say he is "a little pe- culiar? " FERDINAND The dirty seat of that awful cab! Oh, this is terrible! Poor little Czegled ! MRS. TRAINE You must be brave, Ferdie, — and you must be calm. FERDINAND rU never be myself again. I'll never be able to play any more. I am all unstrung for good — all unstrung. MRS. TRAINE I am so sorry, so sorry that this has happened. FERDINAND You do not realize what I have been through — and I have not the words to tell you. MRS TRAINE I had planned everything so that you'd not even have to^think for yourself while you were here — but see what has happened already! VIOLET SOULS 23 FERDINAND I have been thinking a lot — there is no doubt about that — and some of the things I have thought I could never speak out loud. Josephine enters — alone. JOSEPHINE The cabman will not give up the dog until the fare is paid. FERDINAND What is that you say? He holds my little Czegled for a ransom ? MRS. TRAINE It is easily arranged. Josephine, get the money from my purse. The fare is — JOSEPHINE Ten dollars, madame. FERDINAND Ten dollars! It sounds like millions to me. MRS. TRAINE Have you the money, Josephine? JOSEPHINE Yes, madame. MRS. TRAINE Then hurry! My guest must not be kept in such sus- pense. 24 PASSION PLAYLETS Josephine exits, hearing the ten dollars which she expects to divide with the cabman — well-trained servant that she is. MRS. TRAINE You must have ridden a long way, Ferdie. FERDINAND I told you that I rode half way round the earth. But I cannot start my life in America by letting that fellow rob me. What would he demand if he had me prisoner in the cab instead of Czegled? MRS. TRAINE It is all settled, Ferdie. Ten dollars is a mere trifle. The cabman is paid. FERDINAND I think I shall like it here, after all. But I shall never ride alone — without you ; — they might rob me or take me prisoner like they have done to Czegled. You know, twice he stopped that awful cab and threatened to turn me over to the — the police — if I did not pay him. But what could I do? I showed him my Hungarian money — I even offered it to him, — but he would not take it. What could I do? You know, I spent half the time riding and the other half fighting with that fellow. He made me so mad that I could not speak except like — like so — He gesticulates wildly hut not unnaturally. ' — and then he called me a — a Yiddisher. Now I do nol know what that is, but surely I am not that. MRS. TRAINE My poor little Ferdie! VIOLET SOULS 25 FERDINAND I told him of you and your fine home — but he did not know of you. Then I said ' I am the great Ferdinand Czibuika.' But he only laughed at me and said, * What the devil do I care! ' MRS. TRAINE He was a brute. FERDINAND You are right; he has no soul. First I thought I should kill him on the spot — then I said to myself, ' He is just a cabman, after all, and I should not expect any one who travels long through such awful noises to have a violet soul;' — so I let him live. You know, I was thinking as I rode along, — why could it not be that a city was all in harmony with itself; that the bells on the cars, the bells on the trains, and the chimes in the steeples were all in tune? I believe it would have a great effect on the people — I believe it would rest them while they worked. And if a color scheme could be contrived, too, why there would be no need of an heaven — it would be right here. But now it is — I'll not shock you by saying it, but it was not heaven I was going to say. Josephine enters, hearing Czegled, a toy poodle, in her arms. My child! At last! MRS. TRAINE The dear little lamb. Give him to me, Josephine. FERDINAND See what you mean to me! I had forgotten my precious Czegled entirely. 26 PASSION PLAYLETS MRS. TRAINE You are a love, Czegled. FERDINAND He will need three baths before he looks like himself at all. MRS. TRAINE He is such a dear ! Ferdinand kisses Czegled. Mrs. Traine does likewise. FERDINAND Are you upset, Czegled? Are you upset, child? Listen! He is trying to speak to me, to say something. What is it, baby? What is it you wish to say to papa? MRS. TRAINE He is wonderful! I am crazy about him. FERDINAND But it is so dark in here that he cannot see what strange place he is in. MRS. TRAINE Josephine, draw back the curtains. Why did you not think to draw them before? Of course you remember how sweetly she blessed Hamilton when he let in the dangerous daylight; but then, Hamilton is soulless — Czegled has a violet soul. FERDINAND Ah, that is more sensible for the time of day! Little Czegled is now right at home here in a minute. He is so VIOLET SOULS 27 smart that he cannot be fooled on even the difference be- tween night and day. And you — how beautiful you look now that I can see you plainly. MRS. TRAINE You flatter me, Ferdie. FERDINAND You are a picture! If I could paint I'd have you near me always for my model. MRS. TRAINE I appreciate that — coming from such a critic. FERDINAND You are even younger than when you were in Budapest. MRS. TRAINE I am not very old. FERDINAND You know I do not mean that. I mean that you are such a tender flower, and sometimes tender flowers fade quickly. But you — you are more wonderful than ever. He eyes everything about him critically, as if he were about to buy the property — with the change which he clinks in his trouser-pocket. But I'm surprised to find that you live here in all this noise. I had pictured this place in my mind as having much ground where Czegled and I might play about. 28 PASSION PLAYLETS MRS. TRAINE There isn't space in this big city for private grounds of size. She has always been proud of her home heretofore; hut of course it is nothing compared with the Czibulka estate in Hun- gary ^ which Ferdinand has mentioned casually — once or twice. Why shouldn't she offer apologies for her Fifth Avenue home when Ferdie's disappointment is so obvious? FERDINAND But you are rich; you can buy ground. Perhaps if Czegled likes it here you will make for us a nice play- ground where that wide street runs now — eh? You will please note that Ferdinand does not expect too much at the start. He merely urges her to buy Fifth Avenue itself and turn it into a playground for the dog. Pretty little thought, eh? Tell me that you have been unhappy. MRS. TRAINE I've been busy. FERDINAND Society, of course! I know! What a pity it is that you have not something like music or painting to amuse you. It would do so much to rest your soul. MRS. TRAINE Every one cannot be talented like you, Ferdie. Ferdinand can do one thing — he can accept a compUment gracefully. Witness: VIOLET SOULS 29 FERDINAND You are quite right; few are born great. But all may be ambitious — all may try to copy after us, the great ones. Perhaps since you left Budapest, since you left me, you have not tried to live at all times in a world of harmony and beautiful things. MRS. TRAINE Ferdie dear, I have about decided to return to Buda- pest with you — if I can make Hamilton understand. You have helped me to appreciate the sublimities of life. FERDINAND How you please me when you talk so! You almost put my weary soul at rest. MRS. TRAINE In Budapest one can live on ideals — FERDINAND Ideals — and a little money. Ferdinand knows — he's tried it. MRS. TRAINE I'm simply crazy to see the Czibulka estate! She wonders why Ferdinand is shifting around nervously on the foot of the bed. She should stop and consider that he has come to her home to spend the rest of his days, and she is al- ready talking about returning with him to his home. His thoughts of that ancestral estate in Hungary are not quite the same as hers. You are still upset, Ferdie. 30 PASSION PLAYLETS FERDINAND I'd like to smoke. It might quiet my nerves. MRS. TRAINE I Josephine, why did you not think to offer the cigarettes? FERDINAND You do not object? MRS. TRAINE I love the smell of cigarette smoke in my room. Ferdinand accepts a cigarette from the gold case which Josephine has produced from the dressing-table drawer, A tray, Josephine! The gentleman cannot throw his ashes on the floor. FERDINAND Never mind the tray, my good girl. I could not be bothered always thinking where it was. He flicks the ashes from his cigarette as he smokes. I think I shall be very happy here. MRS. TRAINE I hope so. FERDINAND This room is so restful — all violet, to match your soul and mine. MRS. TRAINE It was pink, but I had it redecorated — for you. VIOLET SOULS 31 FERDINAND How did you sleep in a pink room? You know how I detest pink. There is no such color; it is nothing but a faded red. My suite is — MRS. TRAINE Your music-room is directly above mine, so you can pound on the floor when I may come to hear you play. FERDINAND That is most convenient. I shall * pound ' often. The room is in — MRS. TRAINE Gray, FERDINAND Gray — with a little tapestry. MRS. TRAINE I'm certain that it will please you. FERDINAND And the bedroom is in — The terror in Mrs, Trainees eyes is enough to make him understand. Don't say it! Please don't say it! I know already that the bedroom is in pink. The whole crazy house is pink! MRS. TRAINE It shall be redecorated, Ferdie, — I promise that it shall be done immediately. 32 PASSION PLAYLETS FERDINAND I cannot sleep in a pink room. You should not try to torture me so. MRS. TRAINE If you would sleep there tonight, tomorrow — FERDINAND It is not for my own sake that I refuse; it is because a pink room drives my poor little Czegled almost crazy. Czegled has such a violet soul — and you know that pink and violet do not blend. But wait! Your husband shall exchange rooms with me. Mrs. Traine I'm afraid that Hamilton wouldn't care to move. He is very set in his ways. FERDINAND What an unobliging creature! I wonder that you keep him here. MRS. TRAINE A husband is quite necessary to a woman who runs up large accounts. FERDINAND Perhaps you are right! We'll let him remain here for a time — if he and Czegled get along well together. MRS. TRAINE Then it is decided. I shall order your trunks sent up to the pink room — for to-night. VIOLET SOULS 33 FERDINAND There is but one trunk. MRS. TRAINE One? Where are your clothes for the recitals? FERDINAND I will tell you. I do not wish to tell you but you make me. You see, you cabled me enough money to come over but not enough to settle my account with the hotel — and they would let me have but the one trunk. MRS. TRAINE You should have cabled me again. FERDINAND There was not time to send you more word after I re- ceived the money — it was either leave the clothes or miss the steamship. MRS. TRAINE Your recitals have surely been well patronized. FERDINAND Now you make me tell you something more which I wish to keep secret. I have been robbed. MRS. TRAINE Robbed? FERDINAND That awful pink thing — that frightful young widow — that Lady Florence sued me for breach of promise. 34 PASSION PLAYLETS MRS. TRAINE And won the suit? FERDINAND Yes, she won — and she is such an awful thing that she made me pay. Nothing is a question of honor with her — it is simply a question of money. She robbed me of everything I had earned. Think of it, it was she who told me that my playing charmed her soul! She has no soul — unless it is a black one. And she told me that her soul was violet like mine ! Do you wonder that I hate her? This is another great shock for Mrs. Trainees already shat- tered nerves and she falls back weakly upon the pillows. What is the matter? Are you ill? MRS. TRAINE I feel a little faint. FERDINAND Perhaps you need air. Open the window, Josephine — open it quickly. The sweet lady must not die after I have come all the way to America. MRS. TRAINE It's my head; it throbs. FERDINAND Your poor little head! Oh, this is terrible! Let me lay my hands on your forehead. Mrs. Traine obeys willingly. You shall feel the magnetism of my touch. VIOLET SOULS 35 MRS. TRAINE It is wonderful! FERDINAND It is my soul speaking to your soul. MRS. TRAINE It's SO soothing! FERDINAND It is the blending of two violet souls — that is why you rest. MRS. TRAINE Do not stop. It is divine. FERDINAND Rest and think of something beautiful ; try and think of me. MRS. TRAINE Ferdie, you are a wonder. FERDINAND Ah ! you have discovered that which I have been trying to keep secret! He steals one hand from Mrs. Trainees forehead to pat Czegled affectionately. I think we shall be very happy here, Czegled, — yes, I think we shall be very happy. The telephone rings — rudely interrupting Ferdie' s hyp- notic massage. MRS. TRAINE Answer it, Josephine, — and if it is Mr. Traine calling tell him that I cannot talk with him now. 36 PASSION PLAYLETS JOSEPHINE Yes, madame. She smiles and takes up the telephone from the dressing- table; hut her smile fades and her hands tremble as she receives the message over the wire. MRS. TRAINE It is bad news, Josephine? JOSEPHINE It is indeed bad news, madame. Oh, it's terrible! The telephone falls from her hands. She runs over to the bed. It was Mr. Scott, Mr. Traine's secretary. He said that — that the stock-market went to pieces and that — MRS. TRAINE Go on! Go on, Josephine! JOSEPHINE Mr. Traine has lost everything. MRS. TRAINE When she has grasped the full import of the message. Hamilton was a fool, a fool to play the market so heavily! JOSEPHINE Don't say that, madame. Please don't say that. You have not heard all of the message. Mr. Traine has com- mitted suicide. VIOLET SOULS 37 MRS. TRAINE No, no, — you didn't understand! — you didn't hear correctly! Hamilton is not dead! He didn't kill himself! JOSEPHINE He is dead, madame. MRS. TRAINE Good God! It is little more than a groan as she falls back upon the bed in a faint. FERDINAND Does it mean — that they no longer have money? JOSEPHINE They have no money — now. Ferdie, the starved lion, is stunned — suddenly, unexpectedly muzzled — and, after the manner of his kind, he returns to Mrs. Traine with a sneer. FERDINAND So you brought me to America for this! What an idiot I was to think that you had a violet soul! He does not know that Mrs. Traine is half conscious — that Mrs. Traine hears him, and, for the first time, really understands him. Let us hope that she does not even pay for his transportation home and that he is forced to earn his daily bread by playing in some second-class cabaret. Perhaps Hamilton did not lose everything in the stock- market and commit suicide. Hamilton was wise enough to know that Ferdinand Czibulkas never linger long where there is no money forthcoming. It is just possible that Hamilton is listening outside the door when the curtain falls. THE NEST THE NEST Into the Nest we peek. It is neither a sparrow's nest nor a hawk's — nor a woodpecker's — nor even a squirrel's nest; it is a pleasingly odd little bungalow set upon a hill. Allen Wainwright built the small structure sometime during the third year of his ownership of Grey Gables, the towers of which rise up from the valley below The Nest. It was fast living which forced Allen Wainwright to choose between a search for health in the country or a continuation of his eternal round of pleasure in the city and its certain result^ death. He chose the former, purchased Grey Gables for a home and gave up the old life of debauchery. He lived contentedly for three years in this new home before he built The Nest. Was it that the view from Grey Gables did not satisfy him or did he long for a little private place in which to entertain those acquaintances of whom his wife knew nothing? Anyhow he built The Nest for some good reason, as you shall learn presently. ALLEN I invited you to come out here, Doctor Jameson, because I have always esteemed you as a worthy confident. He is seated in an easy chair before the stone fireplace in the single room of the bungalow. He might confess in very few words if it were not that the Doctor, whom he has known for all his days, stared at him so curiously. DOCTOR JAMESON My dear Allen, I did not suppose that you built this attractive little place for the view which is to be had 42 PASSION PLAYLETS of the surrounding country from its windows. You are a clever actor when it comes to the game of love and I hope that your wife is not pining down yonder in Grey Gables while you indulge yourself up here. ALLEN I should not be so unwise as to try to deceive a worthy physician — furthermore, I have no wish to deceive you. This is not a nest for mates; it is a nest for the unmated. DOCTOR JAMESON A nest for bright-feathered birds that molt at will, that change their plumage to suit their latest admirers. ALLEN Their song, nevertheless, reminds me of those early spring mornings which go so far towards reviving one after the dreary winter. DOCTOR JAMESON And yet you anticipate winter as a blessing when the heat of summer is upon you! You are trying to tell me that it is always winter down at Grey Gables with your wife. When you long for spring you send to town for those feathered sirens whom you entertain here, in this * nest.' ALLEN I wish you'd look me over. Doctor, — carefully, and then tell me if I am to blame. I love my wife devotedly, and I shall love her always. I would not hurt her for all the world — no, not one little bit. She is my ideal of woman- hood, and I am, as far as I know, her ideal of manhood, but — THE NEST 43 DOCTOR JAMESON But the first, mad passion of mating is faded — perhaps dead. ALLEN I promised not to deceive you. It would be quite use- less to attempt such a course. That first, mad passion is gone — from me, at least. DOCTOR JAMESON I myself have lived what you might call a — rather free life — since my wife died — some ten years ago. ALLEN Ah, then you are the very one to understand me! Pas- sion sometimes dies tho' the wife still lives. Could you have lived a strictly moral life if you had not become a ' criminal ? ' DOCTOR JAMESON The answer you wish is in direct opposition to moral law. ALLEN I crave the opinion of one who understands the physiology of man. DOCTOR JAMESON I have but one answer: moral law is derived from the Holy Scriptures, — and God made man. 44 PASSION PLAYLETS ALLEN Must our earthly life be counted as nothing — a mere dream? Should it be sacrificed entirely, ended unneces- sarily by allowing the body to decompose for the sake of the all-important future? DOCTOR JAMESON I am a physician, but I am only the cabinetmaker who repairs the treasure-chest. ALLEN Everything for the soul; nothing for the body; every- thing for the future instead of the present! DOCTOR JAMESON I am constantly reminded of the frailty of man; there- fore I must consider the greater importance of our future life. ALLEN And yet you admit that you have lived a rather free life since your wife died ! DOCTOR JAMESON You emphasize my personal weakness; you do not weaken my argument. ALLEN I am trying to convince you that this Nest is not a haunt of vice. iJ THE NEST 45 DOCTOR JAMESON I never oppose a man's conscience. I agree with your conscience, whatever its dictates. ALLEN It was my half-guiity conscience which prompted me to seek your counsel. DOCTOR JAMESON You'd like me to give you some reasonable excuse for overcoming this guilty feeling? ALLEN Put it that way if you like; but I'll go so far as to prom- ise that this place shall be put to the torch this very night if you tell me on your solemn oath that I have no right to it and what it means to me. The doctor, self -convicted, hesitates to judge; therefore, he smiles. DOCTOR JAMESON Does your wife, whom you esteem, realize what this place means to you? ALLEN Lucille must suspect — at least, she is not such a stupid person that she should think I spend my nights up here alone. DOCTOR JAMESON Does she seem as happy, as contented as she was before you built this * Nest? ' 46 PASSION PLAYLETS ALLEN I have not noticed the slightest change in her. DOCTOR JAMESON I must say that your wife is a most unusual woman, fan i^ltramodern example for the others of her sex and station. His speech is satiric — purely. ALLEN Lucille is unusual in many ways. I value her comrade- ship above everything else in life. DOCTOR JAMESON What if you should lose her for the sake of this other comradeship? ALLEN The fine-feathered sirens who come out here for a night or two are not comrades; they are merely toys to amuse a grown-up child. DOCTOR JAMESON We are, as you say, grown-up children and the only par- ent we have to deprive us of dangerous toys is our conscience, that ethereal spokesman of God. ALLEN I could not live without these women; I'd be insane within six months. Why was I created with this mad pas- sion if it should not be satisfied? THE NEST 47 DOCTOR JAMESON Why should I not steal if the money which I get by steal- ing will allow me to live in comfort — perhaps in luxury, for the remainder of my life? ALLEN When you steal you harm another; when I commit these so-called crimes I harm no one. DOCTOR JAMESON You are driving some poor ignorant creatures toward the gutter. ALLEN On the contrary, my money keeps them from poverty — distress. DOCTOR JAMESON These women are aging with each passing day. Soon you will tire of them and cast them off. What will become of them when they reach that unattractive state of old age? It might be, even, that when your desire for them is finished they will find it difficult to fascinate another. ALLEN Rubbish! They know the game too well to be beaten. DOCTOR JAMESON Nobody knows the game; nobody ever will know it. It has never been played the same way twice, nor has it had the same ending. 48 PASSION PLAYLETS ALLEN I must play it for myself; they must play it for them- selves. DOCTOR JAMESON There's never been a bird that could defend two nests; you cannot defend this one and Gray Gables. ALLEN I tell you, Doctor, that my wife needs no defense — asks none. DOCTOR JAMESON You interpret the marriage vows very strangely for a wise man. ALLEN I seek a practicable interpretation. DOCTOR JAMESON I understand. But it is not my duty to minister to the soul but rather to the body. ALLEN The very reason I sent for you. DOCTOR JAMESON I surely cannot sanction your immorality, much less urge you to continue with it. ALLEN Am I really immoral? THE NEST 49 DOCTOR JAMESON Yes, I should say that you are. ALLEN Then this shall be the last visit of my birds to The Nest. The door-bell rings. The Doctor rises, preparatory to taking his leave. ALLEN It is probably the girls. They've come out from town on an earlier train than usual. You must not run away, Doctor. DOCTOR JAMESON I'm very human — and pretty women do fascinate me strangely sometimes. He would leave immediately were it not that he considers it a duty to discover what kind of creatures his friend entertains. ALLEN I call one of them The Crow, because she has black hair; the Titian-haired little girl I call The Wren, — and the yellow-headed one is The Canary. The prettiest little flock of high-fliers you ever saw. He throws wide the door and the flock flutters in, chattering merrily. Welcome to The Nest, merry song-birds! The young women are flashily dressed, after the fashion of their kind. We should never find them walking the streets but we might find them posed gracefully in high-backed chairs in the lobby of some first-class hotel almost any afternoon be- tween the hours of four and six. They never speak to strange 50 PASSION PLAYLETS men, hut they are not offended if strange men speak to them. They each and every one have an aged mother, a crippled brother, and a young sister to support, so surely no one can blame them, whatever their sins. They have occupations — indeed yes — for their parents, as a rule, know not what their lovely daughters do. There is many a one of them who could rightfully claim a lineage which would put some of our gilded debutantes to shame. Most of them know a little French — a very little — which they serve piecemeal to those victims who cannot reply in the same language. They only betray their coarseness, their real selves, when they have looked upon the wine when it is red or sparkling gold. The Crow wears a gown which might ill become any modest stenographer, otherwise clothed in keeping with the limitations of a ten dollar per week salary; but her entire outfit is proper, for she purchased it complete at a quite smart shop where her credit is vouched for by a foolish old stock-broker in his dotage. The Wren, a telephone operator, is not so well dressed simply because she is not so fortunate. If she had the gold she'd surely spend it on clothes; but, so far, she has ''listened in'' on only three conversations between married men and their affinities, upon which she has succeeded in collecting hush-money. The Canary, blessed — or cursed, as you choose to consider it — with a head of bright yellow hair, is dressed entirely in black. Her husband, if such a human being ever existed, is supposed to have gone to his rest eternal ten years ago. We have, of course, some proof that she was married at one time, for she still wears a wide, showy wedding-ring which she dis- plays for the benefit of those cruel enough to doubt her. Ten years is not such a long time to mourn for husband when mourning is so very becoming to a super-blonde! THE NEST 51 THE WREN Imitating a circus-announcer. We have with us to-night a stranger bird. ALLEN After motioning The Wren to be silent. Doctor Jameson, — The Wren, The Crow and The Canary. The Doctor bows stiffly. The Canary is somewhat em- barrassed. The Crow mimics the Doctor's bow. The Wren chuckles. THE CROW The Doctor is not from the country? ALLEN Indeed no! and you'll find him a jolly good fellow. Off with your hats and wraps, girls! — and then you, little Wren, give us some ragtime on the piano. DOCTOR JAMESON I must go shortly, Allen; I have some serious cases which require my attention. ALLEN ril not let you go. You'll work yourself to death, Doc- tor. A night out will do you good. 52 PASSION PLAYLETS THE WREN Strumming on the piano. Vm crazy about this one-step! Isn't it a wonder? Dance it with the Doctor, Canary. He looks sad. THE CANARY Hush, Wren! He and the king bird are talking. THE WREN I'll plug in a busy wire on their line so they'll ring off. She pounds the piano keys roughly. ALLEN Noticing the displeasure which the good Doctor makes no effort to conceal. The Wren isn't really bad. She is a telephone operator by profession. DOCTOR JAMESON Is it her occupation, I wonder, or merely a pretense. ALLEN I feel justified in making certain allowances for these poor creatures. Their lives are not all sunshine and roses. Operating a telephone switchboard must be monotonous work for such a bundle of nerves as the little Wren. See how tired she looks! DOCTOR JAMESON She doesn't hammer on that piano as if she were weary. THE NEST 53 ALLEN Poor things, they hide well the true condition of their aching souls. DOCTOR JAMESON Have they souls — really? He might he more lenient if the young women showed him due consideration. ALLEN You don't think, deep down in your heart, that God would disown them? DOCTOR JAMESON God will deny no one — but something, somebody has robbed them of innate decency, that quality which makes ladies of female human beings. ALLEN Perhaps they find their life's greatest pleasure in merely masquerading as devils. Take The Canary, for example; she's the best-hearted little bird that ever flew into this nest. The Doctor's eyes have been focused upon The Canary ever since she entered the room. Why do you stare at her. Doctor? Have you met before? DOCTOR JAMESON She is a rather interesting specimen of the species, but, nevertheless, not an unusual one. I dare say she smokes a couple of packages of cigarettes per day and imbibes good liquor freely at night. 54 PASSION PLAYLETS ALLEN In which she is no different from our average society woman. DOCTOR JAMESON I have never held that our society women were angelic. My practice, as you know, is mostly confined to the wealthy class. ALLEN Then you certainly do not feel ill at ease here — in Bohemia. DOCTOR JAMESON Bohemia and the Devil seem to share honors; either one is always blamed for anything Heaven won't sanction. THE CANARY Who has been eavesdropping. I , for one, did not come out here to be discussed ! Where's the food and drink — anything different from what we get at home? THE CROW I'm dying to sing, but my throat is too dry. THE WREN To think that I turned down an engagement for the theatre and supper to come out here! She pounds on the piano again for revenge^ while The Crow and The Canary dance round the room, purposely humping against the Doctor as they pass him. THE NEST 55 ALLEN You shall have wine and food, dear ladies. Do what you please to amuse yourself, Doctor. DOCTOR JAMESON It seems quite warm, quite stuffy in here to me. I think I'll smoke on the veranda, if you don't object. ALLEN This is Liberty Hall and every one does as he likes here. Doctor Jameson lights a cigar and exits. THE CANARY Is that old man trying to bore holes in me with his icy stare? What did he say about me, anyway? ALLEN Don't get excited, Canary. We'll give him some wine and the old fellow's spirits will warm up to yours. THE CANARY Give him a pint — all for himself. THE WREN Give him a whole quarts I say. ALLEN You birds would surely die if you couldn't chirp. He goes up stage and raising a small trap-door in the floor ^ brings forth several bottles of wine. 56 PASSION PLAYLETS THE CROW That's a great ice-chest, King-Bird! ALLEN It's my own invention. He tosses a bottle of wine to The Crow. Take that out to the Doctor — and don't forget the glasses. You will find them over there on the sideboard. THE WREN You should have a dinning-room — and a kitchen, too. ALLEN I can watch you when you are all in one room. THE CANARY I, for one, don't like to be watched. THE WREN Nor I. Give me the glasses. Crow, and we'll see if we can get the Doctor in a good humor between the two of us. The Wren and The Crow exit. The Canary lolling in an armchair, looks dejected. ALLEN Cheer up, little song-bird ! We'll all be merry when the wine is drunk. THE CANARY I don't like your friend, the Doctor. He stares at me as though I were a witch. ii THE NEST 57 ALLEN You are a witch; a witch who drives me mad. THE CANARY The Doctor should mind his own business and leave me alone. ALLEN It is his business to study human character. He can't get away from it — ever. He fills The Canary's glass with wine and pats her shoulder lightly — his ready sympathy to show. ALLEN A toast to you, my Canary! To the best little sport in the world, my golden-crested song bird. THE CANARY You like me anyway, don't you — no matter what the Doctor said? ALLEN Like you? You're the most fascinating creature that ever lived. THE CANARY Perhaps I'm wasting my time on you, after all — per- haps I'm the type to catch some young chap with a few millions he's anxious to squander. She snatches Allen's cigarette and inhales deep breaths of smoke from it. Picture me moving in society ! Picture me if you can ! 58 PASSION PLAYLETS He laughs with her, and, just to fall in with her merry mood, steals hack his cigarette when she looks away. Fill my glass again — quickly. There seems nothing to this place unless one has plenty of wine. She grasps his hand and pulls him down playfully onto the arm of her chair. ALLEN I know that you like to be here, despite your com- plaining. THE CANARY I like the place — but most of all I like you. ALLEN You're the daintiest little charmer in the land. THE CANARY I'm not very pretty. ALLEN You are not only pretty — you're captivating. THE CANARY No wonder your wife loves you ! — you have the cute little Romeo tricks all right! ALLEN I am honest — in all my dealings with you. THE CANARY With a theatrical sigh. Perhaps! Anyhow that is the way to get honesty in return. THE NEST 59 She snatches his cigarette again and, holding it at arm's length, eyes it critically. Monogram on every one! Very, very classy! ALLEN A friend of mine in the business makes them for me. I'll send you some if you'll promise to smoke them. THE CANARY I'd love to have them. Your monogram on them, too, eh? ALLEN Yes. Why not? He has drunk two glasses of wine; he is very agreeable, THE CANARY Send me a thousand cigarettes. ALLEN I'll send two thousand — perhaps five thousand. THE CANARY More wine, King-Bird! We'll seal that promise with a drink. I shall expect those cigarettes — ALLEN Sometime this week. THE CANARY I've always wanted a friend in the cigarette business. 6o PASSION PLAYLETS ALLEN Am I merely a friend, little Canary? THE CANARY I'll answer that question after we've drunk this bottle. Allen pours the wine. The Canary watches him with dreamy, half -closed eyes. ALLEN The night is still young and so are you — and so am I. THE CANARY Gazing soulfully into his eyes — a sensuous appeal. I wish that we might run away from them — go away — off somewhere together, just you and I. I'd make you forget life, its cares and everything. ALLEN You're far too serious to-night, little bird. I've another nest, as you know, and I can't desert it. THE CANARY The other nest is not pleasing or you would not be here. ALLEN Whispering, as he bends down above her. I believe that you could make me forget everything else in the world. THE CANARY Perhaps you've planned to run off with The Crow or The Wren? THE NEST 6i ALLEN I'd not exchange you for both of them. THE CANARY Then we'll go away together? ALLEN I can't promise — yet. It depends entirely upon what my friend, the Doctor, says. THE CANARY Springing to her feet — a tigress at bay. What has the Doctor to do with it? What has he told you about me? ALLEN Which way are the bubbles going in my glass — up or down? THE CANARY Let the bubbles go any way! I don't care what hap- pens, if only the silly old Doctor doesn't bother us. ALLEN I'll bet that The Crow has stolen the old fellow's heart by this time. THE CANARY Fill the glasses again and forget the other birds for a while. You are not afraid of the wine — and you're not afraid of me, so drink up — drink up and laugh. 62 PASSION PLAYLETS ALLEN I wouldn't care if the whole world stopped! He cannot stand erect; he staggers. But it's still turning around all right. THE CANARY A toast to you! ALLEN Say whatever you like, only say that you love me. THE CANARY With a mocking laugh. Here's to the husband who lives his own life, Who is still a good sport in spite of his wife. ALLEN Leave my wife out of it! If you can't talk about me don't talk about any one. THE CANARY I'll say what I please. I'm mistress here, even if she is mistress down there. ALLEN I repeat; you leave my wife out of it. She has nothing to do with you or this place, and you have nothing to do with her. THE CANARY Why don't you stay with her if she is so much better than the rest of us? ALLEN That's something which doesn't concern you. THE NEST 63 THE CANARY It does concern me. And I can fight for you just as hard as she can. ALLEN If you try to cause trouble between us I'll — He moves toward her threateningly hut must return to the chair-hack for support. The wine has mastered him. THE CANARY I'll tell her how you live, the poor blind fool. I'll tell her of the risks you take without ever a thought of her. I'll open her eyes so wide that she'll leave you — and then I'll come back and ask you which one of us is best suited to be the good sport's nest-mate. ALLEN I'll burn this place tonight. I'd burn it with you in it if I could. You common thing of the gutter! You — He staggers towards her — stumbles — falls. The Canary laughs. Another victim is sprawled uncon- scious at her feet. But her laugh ends as abruptly as it began when she turns to find the Doctor standing in the doorway. DOCTOR JAMESON You are the young woman who came to me penniless, begging me upon your knees to use my God-given knowl- edge of medicine to make you fit to live among your fellow- creatures again. Have I been serving God by helping you, or have I been serving Satan? To lose the Doctor's friendship would he tantamount to losing life, and The Canary, winged, helpless, hysterical, falls down sobbing at the good man's feet. 64 PASSION PLAYLETS THE CANARY I'm not really bad at heart, Doctor. Don't forsake me — for Heaven's sake don't! I'll not harm him — I'll go away, — out of his life, and never see him again. Tell me that I can come and see you at the office tomorrow. Say that you are still my friend. The aged Doctor is looking over the head of the woman kneel- ing before him.; he is looking out of the window at Grey Gables, the other nest down in the valley. DOCTOR JAMESON I am not considering you nor him ; I am considering his wife. A bird with two nests cannot keep either of them clean if one of them — THE CANARY Oh no! Don't say that! DOCTOR JAMESON God pity them! MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS Lilian Fletchwood is seated at the grand piano in the music- room of Fletchwood Court. She is, perhaps, twenty-five years of age — surely no less — but if we were to find a clever actress of thirty-five years who could play the part, we should by all means engage her for it, for — Lilian is betrothed to Aynes- worth Martin, whom she does not love with her whole heart but whom she dare not jilt to risk an old maid's existence. She is a charming creature who would doubtless have been blessed with any number of admirers, had not her parents, but recently deceased, kept her too much in the seclusion of the home. Lilian must be playing the opening chords of the Rachmaninof Prelude, which seem to best express the cry of her soul for real passion. She plays these chords with great force, sending them out into endless space like a wireless-oper- ator signaling "distress.'' She is a woman of flesh and blood, and the thought of loneliness in her old age, the thought of never becoming a wife and mother, is even more terrifying than death to her. If she were given a choice she'd certainly choose the latter. It is evening — the time of day when the mad passions of men and women rise to master them. The carefully shaded electric lamps flood the room with a rose light which warms the dull gray panelled walls and pleasingly plain ceiling. The chords of music, the cries of this woman's soul, are not wafted off into empty space; they reach the ears of Clifford Willoughby, who comes into the doorway presently. Lilian does not see him — she is facing us — but she knows instantly that — 68 PASSION PLAYLETS LILIAN It is Mr. Willoughby. WILLOUGHBY I begged your man not to announce me, not to interrupt those wonderful chords. His dark eyes sparkle. He hastens to grasp her extended hand eagerly. LILIAN What was it, I wonder? I knew that you were there. Their eyes meet, and they find pleasure in the meeting. WILLOUGHBY I knew that you wished me to call — and yet I hesi- tated. LILIAN You are overbold to think that I was playing the prelude for you. She is never coquettish — she is a very sincere woman at heart — but nevertheless she says this to assure him that he is the person for whom she played the prelude; to assure him that he is the one man in the world whom she wished the mighty chords of music to reach. WILLOUGHBY Perhaps it was a prelude to destiny. I just now de- serted Aynesworth at the club. LILIAN I understand. You need not explain further. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 69 WILLOUGHBY He's been drinking again. He talks of you madly — openly- I felt my fingers moving towards his throat several times. LILIAN Aynesworth is a little boorish for a man of his good breeding. She says this thoughtlessly. Her cheeks hum a little when she remembers that Aynesworth will shortly become her husband. WILLOUGHBY I'm free to admit that I feel quite guilty coming directly from him to you. Lilian laughs harmlessly, musically — simply to put him at this ease; not to deny his guilt. I lay claim to Aynesworth's friendship, but I am desper- ate to talk with you — here — alone. When I met you the other evening something in your eyes offered — LILIAN Friendship? She cannot meet his fiery eyes, thus admitting the guilt of her offer. WILLOUGHBY You gave me preference over Aynesworth — you know you did. It might have been but a sudden fancy — never- theless it was enough to set me thinking. LILIAN And you, silly boy, thought — She knows, in her heart, that it is too late to deny it — and in truth, she does not wish to deny it. 70 PASSION PLAYLETS WILLOUGHBY I am convinced that there is some serious disagreement between you and Aynesworth. LILIAN Mr. Willoughby, you are mistaken. Aynesworth and I are engaged to marry. I do not always speak of him seri- ously, but that does not alter the case. This with such finality that Willoughby, quite taken aback ^ stares at her wide-eyed for a moment. WILLOUGHBY You allowed me to come here; in fact, you asked me to come. LILIAN You must have misunderstood me, Mr. Willoughby. Willoughby did not misunderstand the look in her eyes. He has misjudged her. Lilian considers herself blameless be- cause her soul cried out to his soul, but if she yielded to this mad passion she'd feel guilty of an unspeakable crime. WILLOUGHBY He is a good man, but even good men yield to their passions more readily than women. He must insist that it is her priv- ilege to jilt Aynesworth. What did your eyes say to me? LILIAN A thoughtless impression — nothing more. // is a lie, smoothly spoken, but he forgives her for it because she lies in defense of an agreement to which she is a party in honor bound. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 71 WILLOUGHBY Could I have imagined that you were offering me en- couragement? LILIAN I shall be very careful of my eyes in future — ^when there are impressionable young gentlemen around. WILLOUGHBY You insist that our meeting meant nothing to you, and yet the wonderful prelude died just now, as if my coming made it of no further use to you. LILIAN I was strangely aware of a presence — but it might have been any one — the butler or — WILLOUGHBY You called me by name without seeing me. My foot- steps are not familiar to you. How, may I ask, did you know that it was Mr. Willoughby? LILIAN Are you trying to convince me that I should not have al- lowed you to come? WILLOUGHBY Ah, then you did wish me to come! LILIAN You are a strange man ; a man very different from all the others I have known, and you did impress me — Encouraged, he takes a step toward her. — a little. Call me inquisitive, if you choose, but it was not that which prompted me to act so boldly. 72 PASSION PLAYLETS WILLOUGHBY I knew that it was something more — something very' sudden and very strong. LILIAN You will not drive me to any foolish admissions. I am sure that you will not. You seemed to enjoy my playing and — well, let us say that I was somewhat flattered. One always is pleased when one is appreciated. There is a certain movement of the sonata I played which appeals to me greatly, and I felt, somehow, that it appealed to you, too. WILLOUGHBY I remember it quite clearly. I shall always remember it. LILIAN How absurd we are! Souls are not tuned to harmonize. WILLOUGHBY I wonder! The man meets the woman for the first time. The woman smiles. There is something in the woman's smile, something new and fascinating which fires the man's very soul instantly. They talk and find that they have certain tastes in common. They find pleasure in their companionship. Their tastes, their ideas of life are so nearly identical that they soon become friends. Their friendship reveals many other things which they share, and before they realize it they have become lovers. Why? Because their souls are in tune with one another. It is the only way a man can choose his mate. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 73 LILIAN I should like to agree with you, but I am afraid that you are mistaken. Secretly she agrees with him; for they share the same ideas in regard to choosing a mate. WILLOUGHBY Your soul and mine met — LILIAN We met only the night before last. WILLOUGHBY I insist that it was more than an ordinary meeting of two human beings. LILIAN I'm afraid that you are trying to convert a very worldly mortal. WILLOUGHBY My eyes met yours and I found, in that single glance, a matchless prize that I never knew existed. LILIAN A prize that is promised to — WILLOUGHBY You are cruel. I should never have acted so boldly if you were not so bewitching. 74 PASSION PLAYLETS LILIAN Life is indeed a gamble, Mr. Willoughby, and it has been said that courage is man's crowning attribute; but you can not expect a serious woman's heart to be swayed by every little fancy. Think what a scandal there would be if I were to jilt poor Aynesworth for some one I had known but forty-eight hours! Surely the laws of society are not so fiimsily constructed that one can misconstrue them at one's pleasure — without qualms. I admit that Aynesworth is an idler, a spendthrift, a clubman who talks lightly of women over the card-table, but I cannot gamble away my life with each turn my fancy takes. WILLOUGHBY Why call it mere fancy? It is something which you surely never felt for Aynesworth. LILIAN Aynesworth is the sort of rich idler that enjoys solitude more than companionship. He will wish to be alone and so shall I. Who could say that such lovers of solitude should not mate and live in harmony? We should never disturb one another seriously, at any rate. WILLOUGHBY Perhaps you are right! Aynesworth has money, too, while I am but a struggling young solicitor. I have been overbold — presumptuous. He turns away with a gesture of despair. Her eyes follow him always as he paces the room. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 75 LILIAN Aynesworth, of course, has no soul — at least, none that is worthy of the name. She is daring; but she could not say less, for Willoughhy is not merely disappointed — he is suffering. WILLOUGHBY I should not have come. I am impulsive and — He is standing in the doorway. A step or two and he might disappear out of her world forever. She found it easy to re- pulse him when he was insistent, hut now there's a strange little strain at her heartstrings when she thinks of his going. LILIAN Who can say that Aynesworth and I will not quarrel and separate for all time? He has a fiery temper and so have I. I have often thought that perhaps — Willoughhy offers his hand. He would rather she did not continue. He accepts her kind words as charity and he can- not bring himself to he but a hopeless beggar. WILLOUGHBY Aynesworth asked me to be groomsman, but that is quite impossible since I have betrayed him. LILIAN Quite impossible, I should say. WILLOUGHBY You need not, however, be afraid of me. I shall not cause you any further annoyance. 76 PASSION PLAYLETS LILIAN You need not stay away, my friend. I am sure that you are not in the least dangerous. He clings to her hand and she can no longer face him. WILLOUGHBY I might return in — say, a year. I should like to drop in again, if you don't mind. LILIAN You'll be anxious to know whether the laws of society have been proved inconsistent with the natural laws? WILLOUGHBY Yes. LILIAN And if you find me playing the prelude, I may, perhaps, mistake you for the butler. He is looking straight into her eyes and she must escape him. She appears to he startled by a thought which flashes across her mind. Aynesworth might suspect yOu ! He might — Willoughby wraps her swiftly in his arms. Her words are smothered by his kiss. You must go — quickly. WILLOUGHBY A madman, clinging to her desperately. No, no, don't send me away like this! — for God's sake don't! MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 77 LILIAN You may return in one year, but until then — Willoughby releases her, and, drawing himself bravely erect, passes through the doorway without turning. Lilian's hands go swiftly to her burning cheeks. She sinks down upon the piano-bench. She hears footsteps. Perhaps he is coming back! She tries to play the opening chords of the prelude but her hands tremble so violently that her fingers refuse to strike the proper keys. She makes a mighty effort and wins. Aynesworth appears in the doorway, but Lilian is unaware of his presence. AYNESWORTH You did not expect me this evening, dear? Lilian cannot reply. Perhaps he met Willoughby! I gave up a good game at the club, too. Thought I should since we are to be married within the week. Lilian merely nods. That's not such a bad little melody. What is it? LILIAN A Prelude to Destiny, some one called it. AYNESWORTH It's very pleasing — . Strange that I never heard of it before ! Lilian falls sobbing across the keyboard of the piano. Aynesworth, astonished, stares at her. The curtain is lowered here for a moment only, to indi- cate the passing of a year. When it is raised we see the same room with only minor changes in detail; other flowers 78 PASSION PLAYLETS upon the grand piano, etc.; changes which the passing of time necessitates. Lilian is discovered , seated at the piano. Aynesworth hap- pens to be lying back lazily in the same chair in which we last saw him. His manners are the same, but there are deep lines in his face which make him appear much older. He was al- ways gruff, but a year of unhappy married life — to forget which he has imbibed a goodly quantity of rare old Scotch — has made him so irritable that he does not, even for a single minute, gain our sympathy. AYNESWORTH The piano is rather uninteresting, isn't it? Lilian tries to avoid him. You have played some of those things for a year — and more. LILIAN They are masterpieces. They will live forever. AYNESWORTH Masterpieces? I dare say death saved 'the fellows who wrote them the violence of the mob! LILIAN Have you clever conversation to offer — She completes it with a shrug of her shoulders. Aynes- worth' s retort is a grunt. You should not expect a woman to enjoy your growling, AYNESWORTH I take it that a wife is meant to amuse. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 79 LILIAN I am not a marionette, Aynesworth; I am a woman of flesh and blood. AYNESWORTH You are a devilish cold one to say such a thing. LILIAN I have endured enough to make me cold towards you. AYNESWORTH You are always the injured little party, aren't you? You never stop and think that I've spent a fortune in the last year — all for our good times. LILIAN Our good times! I do not recall a single evening which you spent at home with me — while your money lasted. AYNESWORTH Little of your money have you spent. LILLA.N What good sense I've displayed! We now have my father's home in which to live — at least in comfort, if not in luxury. AYNESWORTH A home with doors so heavy that you cannot hear the knocks of my pesky creditors, trying to attract your attention. 8o PASSION PLAYLETS LILIAN Would you have me pay — for you? AYNESWORTH Why not? The trouble is that you've never offered to pay. LILIAN You have been drinking heavily again. AYNESWORTH Why shouldn't I drink when it's the only pleasure I have left? It makes me forget that I'm still alive. LILIAN It is rather difficult for a wife to be counted as nothing. AYNESWORTH A woman is just what she chooses to make herself — she can be either a good sport or — LILIAN She has no club to love more dearly than her home. AYNESWORTH Rubbish! What is home to a mismated couple like ourselves? What is life at all when you bore me and I bore you? Upon this point they do agree. You used to like me because I was a good fellow ; now you hate me because I c^n't afford to give you up. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 8i LILIAN It does not elevate you in my opinion to know that you cling to me only as a necessity. AYNESWORTH Drunk enough to resort to beastly sarcasm. Perhaps I continue as your loving husband because marriages are made in Heaven. LILIAN Your mockery drives me mad! I'll not be insulted further by you. I'll not! I'll not! AYNESWORTH I cannot be dumb, even to oblige my wife. LILIAN There must be some way. Aynesworth laughs softly, confidently. What is public scandal, after all, compared with such a life! Why should we fear our friends, and what they'll think? Why should I debase myself further by remaining here by your side when I am not a wife at all — but nothing more than plaything — mistress, if you'll have it so? The vile creatures, the women with whom you associate, are no less than I who deceive by posing as a mate. It can't be! Do you hear? It can't be! We can't go on like this! AYNESWORTH Now, Lilian, I — 82 PASSION PLAYLETS LILIAN I hate you ! I hate your kisses and your very touch ! I buried my soul, my finer instincts, when I married you. I am young, palpitating with the blood of youth that cries aloud for real love. And I shall find it ! I shall find the love that I'm entitled to and make it mine. You are right — we are mismated. We are wasting our lives, both of us, and it's the end of our vile hypocrisy. A frail thing, nerve-shaken, she sinks down upon the divan. AYNESWORTH Smiling at her sarcastically. I might even offer consolation if my lot were not quite on a par with your own — and if that beastly Scotch hadn't robbed me of my usual keen sense of humor. He goes very close to her, and, when she shrinks from him^ chuckles after the fashion of a stupid, intoxicated man. You are serious, after all. LILIAN Meeting him with a look even more threatening than his own. I am desperately — dangerously serious. AYNESWORTH You're acting this way because I'm bankrupt. His words bring Lilian to her feet in a flash. It's not lack of love that's ruling you — it's selfishness. LILIAN Would you have me pay the costs of your dissipation? Could you ask such a thing? Could you stoop so very low? MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 83 AYNESWORTH What beautiful thoughts you used to express about our being partners! LILIAN I have paid my share — perhaps not in money but in other ways. I shall not give you one penny. AYNESWORTH It means bankruptcy for me — disgrace. LILIAN You shall not have a single penny from me. AYNESWORTH You are a fraud, a sham who plays at being wife. Why shouldn't I seek companionship elsewhere? Why shouldn't I look fbr fire when there's only a bloodless creature in my home? What right have you to judge me when you alone are to blame? Where's your defense? Let's have it! LILIAN At least you realize the common crime we two commit by living as one. AYNESWORTH When there's no partnership. But why not play it fair and make me love you in spite of myself? LILIAN My money again! You offer me very little at a very great price. 84 PASSION PLAYLETS AYNESWORTH I offer you quite as much as I bought with mine. LILIAN What did you buy? Women — women who laughed at me, joined with you in ridiculing and deceiving the one who should have been most precious to you. One doesn't pay for one's own shaming, Aynesworth. It's cruel of you to ask it. AYNESWORTH A lot of words! A pretty way to put me off! LILIAN You have my decision. AYNESWORTH Then it is the end? LILIAN It is the end of torture. AYNESWORTH No! He glares at her like some savage creature ready to pounce upon its prey. He is a drunken fool, devoid of reason. I need ten thousand pounds and I'm going to have it. LILIAN You do not frighten me in the least, even drunk as you are. AYNESWORTH I'm not trying to frighten you. It's business now — and it's your turn to pay. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 85 LILIAN I repeat — you shall not have one penny. AYNESWORTH I tell you I need ten thousand pounds to keep me from ruin. LILIAN It's my turn to laugh, Aynesworth. It's my turn to rule. AYNESWORTH I'll have that money if I have to kill you. His hands reach her bare white throat. He forces her back upon the piano. The butler appears in the doorway. He stops — amazed. But he has come at an opportune moment; he must speak. THE BUTLER I beg pardon, madam. Mr. Willoughby is calling. Aynesworth releases Lilian and stares blankly at the servant. Lilian does not move. The curtain is again lowered, and raised immediately on the same room some months later. The butler shows in Willoughby. We have not seen Willoughby for more than a year, and al- though he has aged a little, his face bears no marks of dissipa- tion. He has aged more in manner than in appearance. He is a very sober man now, still bearing bravely that great disap- pointment which has deepened with time into sorrow. THE BUTLER I'll announce you, sir, immediately Mrs. Aynesworth Martin returns. 86 PASSION PLAYLETS WILLOUGHBY I shall wait. He smiles sadly — wearily. He has waited a very long time to see her again. THE BUTLER Very good, sir! His curiosity halts him at the doorway. You will pardon me, sir, but you were formerly Mrs. Martin's solicitor — if she asks? WILLOUGHBY I was Miss Fletchwood's friend; I am Mrs. Martin's friend. THE BUTLER Yes, — of course, sir! I understand, sir. Willoughby is looking at the piano as if it only, of all things present, shared with him a treasured secret. He does not see the gray-haired butler shake his head. The old servant is a 'very keen observer; he knows life's tragedies quite as well as its comedies. Some music, which has fallen from the piano, attracts Willoughby' s attention. The butler hastens to pick it up. THE BUTLER It is a prelude, sir, — something Mrs. Martin has played and loved for a long, long time. I have come to know it well, sir, — if you will pardon me. Perhaps you, too, — Willoughby accepts the music and holds it with trembling hands. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 87 THE BUTLER Mrs. Martin played it only this morning, sir. Noticing Willoughby's surprise he adds: The very first music we have heard in the house since Mr. Martin's death. WILLOUGHBY Mr. Martin died just two months ago. The Butler Exactly so, sir; two months to the day. WILLOUGHBY I have been away — travelling. the butler I understand, sir. He would retire; but Willoughby, drifting, seems to refuse him the necessary permission. WILLOUGHBY Two months! Yes, yes! — and a year added to that. The butler exits quietly. The last time I called Mrs. Martin was ill — if you re- member — and I could not see her. His head comes up with a jerk and his eyes widen. He knows that when he turns he will see Lilian, who has come into the doorway. He is so certain of this that he speaks without turning. Mrs. Martin, I asked your man's permission to wait in here. Lilian comes down to him. She does not offer her hand, but instead lays it lightly upon his arm. 38 PASSION PLAYLETS LILIAN You have been away? He nods. Your return is a happy event — for all your friends. Their eyes meet and again they find pleasure in the meeting. WILLOUGHBY I have come to offer my sympathy. Aynesworth was a good fellow, and good fellows are rare creatures in this life. He misinterprets Lilian's feeble smile. My sympathy, you must understand, is quite sincere. LILIAN I'm afraid that you have aged, Mr. Willoughby. WILLOUGHBY I hope not! — that is, I hope I've not changed enough to make me seem different. This room — the atmosphere — He lays the music upon the piano. It's enough to confuse me. LILIAN It has been a long time since — WILLOUGHBY It's a sacred part of my life's history — the most sacred part. His eyes fall to her exquisite gown. It is the first time he has noticed that she is not in mourning. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 89 LILIAN I have learned that conventionalities must be discarded for truths. If I shock the world by robing myself in keep- ing with my state of mind then the world must be shocked. WILLOUGHBY I'm sure that you are just a little curious to know what brings me. I am a solicitor and I know my kind too well to see you, a friend, thrown mercilessly adrift. I should like to be of some service to you in settling Aynesworth's estate. LILIAN He left no estate to settle. WILLOUGHBY Nothing? Aynesworth was worth a goodly sum when I knew him. LILIAN He squandered every penny of it. WILLOUGHBY Oh! Then that accounts for your coming here to live! I am beginning to understand the situation. I must admit that I was somewhat shocked to find you wearing colors. LILIAN I have established a little house of truth ; I am true to my inner self in everything, regardless of what the out- side world may say or think. 90 PASSION PLAYLETS WILLOUGHBY At last! LILIAN Yes — at last. WILLOUGHBY How I marveled at your courage — and ended by think- ing myself a conceited ass. LILIAN I 've never understood it — exactly. WILLOUGHBY It's all very simple. You allowed yourself to be gov- erned by conventionalities rather than by guiding passion; you tried to think the unreal real — the real unreal. LILIAN I wonder! WILLOUGHBY How childish we were not to insist upon the truth ; not to insist upon each other living up to the truth. LILIAN There have been years wasted. WILLOUGHBY Perhaps it is a false conceit which prompts human beings to discard the natural laws and go in search of new ideas — new customs. Perhaps the world has known but one per- fectly mated pair — old Adam and Eve. MR. WILLOUGHBY CALLS 91 LILIAN You are such a serious idealist, Mr. Willoughby! If God were to set down Adam and Eve in the heart of Lon- don, neither of them would again give the Garden of Eden for an address. Adam would make straight for the nearest club, and Eve, — well, poor thing, she'd of course have to hail a cab and go straightway to some modiste. What time the next morning do you suppose Adam would come home to Eve if he chanced to meet some of the chorus girls from the Gaiety that night? You are so serious, Mr. Willoughby! WILLOUGHBY I am serious! I am always too serious to be practical. I only dropped in to offer my services as a solicitor. I was afraid that you might wonder why Mr. Willoughby had failed to call — that is, if you had not heard of — He chokes — he sputters , like a toothless old man trying to articulate uncommon words. At last he blurts out: I am married. I married just two weeks before Aynes- worth died. Lilian stares at him, devoid of speech, and he, desperate to pass the awkward moment, adds: I'm sure that you wish me great happiness. LILIAN I do. She does wish him great happiness — real happiness — always. Her words are spoken merely to emphasize his words. Her hand happens to touch the music on the piano — the Pre- lude, and she fumbles it nervously. 92 PASSION PLAYLETS WILLOUGHBY I could no longer exist without knowing that you still cared for me. I should not have called. I am sorry now that I came. I hoped that you would repulse me again; that you would make me try to forget you. He looks at her for a moment steadily, and then, shaking his head sadly, passes through the doorway, Lilian is looking off into endless space, her bloodless hands tearing the Prelude into bits as the curtain falls. THE UNNECESSARY ATOM THE UNNECESSARY ATOM Frank Morley, whom we find seated at a desk in his shanty, is superintending the construction of a railway through the wilds of the Canadian Northwest. He is conquering a vast wilderness. The shanty is a rude structure, hut its rudeness is swiftly forgotten when we behold the view which the large windows in its rear afford. We look across an almost endless stretch of mountainous country. In the foreground we see a partially constructed bridge, the two ends of which reach out like great arms, almost meeting over a deep ravine through which flows a foaming river. It is high noon and the snow-capped moun- tains in the distance sparkle like huge diamonds in the sun- light. Celia, Frank's wife, enters left, bearing in her hand the mail which has just arrived by coach from some distant railroad town. She pauses upon the threshold. She rarely disturbs her husband when he is absorbed in his work; but she brings a letter for him addressed in a familiar hand and her curiosity demands that she know its contents. She tiptoes across the room. CELIA Here's the mail, Frank. FRANK I didn't hear you come in. I was making some difficult calculations. 96 PASSION PLAYLETS CELIA You work too hard, dear. She goes round the desk and lays her cool hand upon his burning forehead. It is the act of a thoughtful and affectionate wife. FRANK I have been verifying what I've proved an hundred times before; I've been making those fellows down on the bridge secure against accident — perhaps, against death. CELIA How happy I shall be when we cross this bridge! You are only human, after all, and your poor brain — FRANK When we cross this bridge we'll push on through the wilderness and build another. CELIA You cannot deceive me, Frank. I know how anxious you are to see this work completed. Sometimes, when you have not been aware of my presence, I have watched you while you worked. There are strange new lines in your face; lines which have come without time calling them. You are nervous; you are anxious. FRANK Come with me to the window, Celia. Do you see all those men, those little black specks moving about on that great mass of steel? They look like toys, don't they? They are toys — the toys with which I play my game. They are THE UNNECESSARY ATOM 97 doing my work, building my monument, risking their lives every minute of the day — because they have faith in me. CELIA Frank ! FRANK I am their god. I hold their fate in the hollow of my hand. If I should make one false calculation they would all be dashed down into that foaming river, pinned under tons of steel. I can send them to eternity or keep them here, as I choose. CELIA You frighten me, Frank. FRANK My power is supreme. I alone can complete the work. The God of Heaven could not destroy me without retarding the progress of the world — without retarding the progress of civilization. I hold a unique position on a plane above normal man. I am, in fact, improving upon the creations of my own Creator. CELIA I shall be happy when the bridge Is — FRANK I have you and the boy — and there are hundreds of miles of wilderness ahead which must bow to my will — hundreds of miles which await my conquest. Who or, what can stop me? I am a god, little woman; I don't need any other god. CELIA You don't realize what you are saying. 98 PASSION PLAYLETS FRANK I know the very thoughts of those fellows down there. See that man turn and wave to me! He has just landed another heavy girder. He has spent days and nights won- dering whether that important part would stand the strain upon it when it was put to the test. He worries; I know. I have decided that it will stand the strain; I, his god, have decided that he shall be granted further life when he stands upon the girder. CELIA * I thought that you'd be anxious to get the mail. FRANK I'd forgotten the mail. He returns to the desk and tears open the envelope which Celia has laid carefully upon the top of the small stack of letters, etc. Here is something interesting! CELIA From — FRANK From Charlie Garrison. He is coming here on — CELIA Charles Garrison! Why should he come way out here? FRANK He has a patent riveter which he would like to have me use on the bridge. THE UNNECESSARY ATOM 99 CELIA I wonder whether he knows that we are married ! FRANK Charlie should have come out on this coach. Yes, his letter is dated Chicago, the nineteenth. CELIA Do you suppose he knows that we are married? FRANK It is possible he doesn't know that you are my little wife — in which case, we will surprise him. He turns to find Celia looking very serious. Aren't you anxious to see him again? CELIA Yes, of course I am. FRANK You used to be rather fond of Charlie. He adds jocularly: I thought I saw your face flush when I mentioned his name. CELIA All the girls admired him when he was at college. FRANK I was teasing, dear. I have not forgotten to be jealous, even with all my work and cares. 100 PASSION PLAYLETS CELIA I love your jealousy. I want you to be jealous always. FRANK The boy binds us together forever. The Boy, playing out of doors, laughs heartily. CELIA Is it only because of him that you love me? FRANK You silly little woman, you can't be jealous of our own flesh and blood. Celiacs body sways slightly and he takes her in his arms. Do you feel faint? CELIA I'll be all right presently, dear. Leave me alone — please. FRANK I'll open the windows. Immediately the windows are opened we hear The Boy laugh again. CELIA What makes him laugh? FRANK He's racing up here with a man — with Charlie Garrison. CELIA Charles! — playing with the boy! THE UNNECESSARY ATOM loi FRANK It hasn't taken them long to get acquainted. I never saw the youngster take to anybody so readily before. CELIA I've told him never to talk with strangers. FRANK Strangers? You surely do not call Charlie a stranger? CELIA I've always considered Charles Garrison a cad. In my heart I've hated him. FRANK A cad? You don't mean that. CELIA I have been happy ever since the day you promised that we'd leave all the old world behind us and come out here into the wilderness. FRANK But Charlie is — CELIA He is some one from the outside world — the world we left behind to find our happiness. He will remind you of the old days and you will long for them again. I don't want to go back. I'll never go — even with you. FRANK It is quite absurd of you to think that Charlie or any one else could ever take me away from my work. 102 PASSION PLAYLETS CELIA Men are gossips, you know, just like women — and the boy's age might lead him to suspect that — FRANK Rubbish ! Charlie is not that sort — he'll ask no ques- tions — and even if he should, it is a matter too slight to arouse his suspicions. CELIA Frank, dear, you must listen to me. I have a woman's intuition. I'll do anything for you, now or any time. I'll love you always — you alone; I'll be the best little wife you could possibly wish for; I'll slave for you from morning till night — if you'll grant me this one thing. FRANK You ask me to promise that I'll not see him — an old friend? You could not ask anything more unkind, any- thing more foreign to you. You are overstrung or you'd not ask it. The Boy, a rosy-cheeked, golden-haired lad, looks in the window. THE BOY Father! FRANK What does the young man want? THE BOY There's somebody here to see you — oh, an awfully nice man! THE UNNECESSARY ATOM 103 FRANK Show him in, son, — but don*t tell him father's name. THE BOY All right, father! CELIA You shall not see him, Frank. FRANK What is the reason for this sudden dislike? It is surely some trifle that — CELIA Trifle! Do you call our happiness, all that is so dear to us a mere trifle? FRANK I think you, dear, have been working too hard. I know it is difficult for you not to get overstrung sometimes, with so much work and no servants — and no recreation. I am going to take you and the boy back east for a little holiday after we cross this bridge. CELIA A holiday — back east ! I knew this visit would remind you of the old days and make you long for them again. FRANK Give me one other single reason why I should not see Charlie and I'll send him away. Celia cannot explain. She only stares at him blankly. Perhaps you loved him and — 104 PASSION PLAYLETS Before he can complete it, Celia, with a mad cry, runs out of the room. {Going Left.) He is still staring after her when Charles Garrison enters {Right) carrying The Boy pig-a-back. CHARLES Frank Morley! FRANK Hello, Charlie Garrison! He offers his handy but his attention is still upon the doorway through which Celia passed. CHARLES You don't mean to tell me that you are the engineer on this big job? FRANK I'm the engineer — on the job. THE BOY Father, you look as if you'd seen a ghost. CHARLES So you are married and a father? FRANK Yes. Isn't he a fine specimen of young manhood? CHARLES The finest young fellow I ever saw — and I'm not saying it because you're his father. THE UNNECESSARY ATOM 105 THE BOY Father only calls me a bad kid when there is nobody else here. CHARLES Children and fools always — You know the rest. THE BOY You will stand up for me, won't you, mister? CHARLES You can count on me, young fellow. But don't call me mister — call me Uncle Charlie. THE BOY Thanks ! Uncles and aunts are scarce out here — 'spe- cially at Christmas. FRANK He's a westerner; so he always says what he thinks. CHARLES Tell me, young man, are you going to be a great engineer like your father, or a cowboy? THE BOY I'm going to be a cowboy. CHARLES Father should buy you a pony so you'll learn to ride. io6 PASSION PLAYLETS THE BOY You can take me pig-a-back while you're here. CHARLES Good! I'll be the bucking broncho. FRANK Run along, boy, and when we come out presently I'll break the rule and carry you pig-a-back myself. THE BOY I'd rather have Uncle Charlie take me — 'cause he knows just how to hold my feet so I won't fall off. CHARLES I'll give you another ride after while. THE BOY You are a great Uncle Charlie, mister, — the best uncle I ever had. He exits {Right). CHARLES He is surely a fine little chap. Children usually get on my nerves, but I could play with him all day. FRANK Are you married? CHARLES I've no wife, no home — nothing really worth while. THE UNNECESSARY ATOM 107 FRANK I don't suppose that a mighty traveller like you needs a home. CHARLES I have travelled all over the globe, but the biggest sur- prise of my life was to find you way out here. How did you ever get here? FRANK Built my way out, — bridges — tunnels — CHARLES I thought I was at the end of the earth when they dumped me out of that coach down at the foot of the moun- tain. I surely did puff and snort climbing up. I'm not in as good training as I used to be at college. Frank is still watching the doorway through which Celia disappeared. Where's your wife? FRANK She'll be out presently — that is, if she feels better. She suffered a little heart attack a while ago. The altitude here doesn't quite agree with her. CHARLES I'm anxious to meet Mrs. Frank Morley. FRANK You shall meet her. CHARLES You have a cozy little home, for a place of its kind. io8 PASSION PLAYLETS FRANK It's a knock-down affair. We take it along when we move. We live in the same rooms on the banks of the Sas- katchewan that we occupied on the banks of the Mississippi, when I worked down there — before this big job came my way. CHARLES What a novel idea! But don't you get lonely sometimes and long for the bright lights — the old life? FRANK I have changed considerably since our college days. I live only for my work now; that is why I am willing to plod along way out here in this wilderness. CHARLES Perhaps you have found the perfect life, after all! FRANK I can take a drawing of some great work and play with it for hours. I can change it here and there, figure it out, until it seems to grow into the structure itself. I seem to hold great spans of bridges in my hands. I seem to dig great tunnels under rivers which rush along madly like cat- aracts. I plan and seem to do all this; I pass my drawings on to the men that toil and I see my dreams come true. Don't you think there is pleasure in that? I laugh at the river which has balked generations of engineers but which cannot balk me. I laugh at the mighty trestle whose weight I alone can distribute properly. I am the man who builds! God created a vast wilderness; I come along and THE UNNECESSARY ATOM 109 civilize it. Don't you think I find the joy of living in •that? There is so much of me in my work that if it should fail, my heart would fail with it. It is a part of me — it is all of me. CHARLES You certainly have become an ambitious devil! FRANK I am an engineer, an engineer who has risen to the position of a god. I am creating a new world out here. CHARLES How strange it is that one always finds the dreamers out in some natural paradise where everything is so very real. FRANK I dream, perhaps, but my dreams come true. CHARLES Looking out of the window retrospectively. If I had a home and a wife — something, some one to fight for — FRANK Why not get a wife? CHARLES Did you ever hear of a ladies' man at college who didn't live and die a bachelor? FRANK You used to be rather fond of Celia Kane. no PASSION PLAYLETS CHARLES Celia Kane was surely a great little girl — He laughs, — for a college town. FRANK I don't understand. CHARLES She was full of fun and all that, but — FRANK The jolly, pleasing type? CHARLES She was a good fellow. I was young and — well, I fell head over heels in love with her. FRANK And did Celia love you in return? CHARLES Don't make me laugh, Frank! You know what a serious affair we had. FRANK I didn't know. CHARLES Perhaps you were so absorbed in your studies that you missed the small town talk. He turns to find Frank scowling blackly. I know you never did like fellows who gossiped, and believe me, I'm not telling you this to make sport of Celia Kane. I'm not a cad. I'd kill you if you smiled. I THE UNNECESSARY ATOM iii thought I could pass it over lightly but I can't. I'm seek- ing your pity for us both, for when one laughs at her, one laughs at me, too. FRANK You have aroused my curiosity. You must complete the story. I promise you that I'll not laugh. CHARLES If I could live out here and never see any of the old crowd again I would do it gladly. FRANK Why should you wish to remain here? CHARLES To make sure that we'd never meet again, Celia and I. FRANK You think that she — CHARLES Loves me? No. Hates me? No. Thinks of me some- times? Yes. FRANK Why? CHARLES Because she is a woman. When I got out of the coach down there I said to myself, ' There is no danger of my meeting Celia to-day; no danger of my placing her in an embarrassing position — so I shall enjoy at least these few hours of life.' I breathed freely the rich air. I looked 112 PASSION PLAYLETS at the mountains with their white caps all ablaze in the sunlight. I thanked Heaven that I was alive. I know that you think me a fellow of foolish moods and fancies, but I am sincere when I say that the bright lights back east could never attract me again if I remained here for her sake. FRANK How would that protect — the woman? CHARLES We'd never meet — never betray by some careless look or word the secret which is ours — the bond which binds us. FRANK A bond which binds you and — and this woman. CHARLES I've never heard whether Celia married. My father would give me no money, and I, a penniless youth, could offer her nothing. I was a fool not to marry her any- way! But I wasn't a cad — I swear to Heaven I wasn't! It was Celia herself who persuaded me to obey my father's orders and go away. She loved me, she wished me to have a great career, and she realized that the discovery of our secret would mean my ruin as well as hers. I have searched for her secretly — everywhere — but without finding a single clue to her whereabouts. The people back in the college town told me that she had disappeared — suddenly — from off the face of the earth, for all they knew. I'd have located her if I could in order to avoid her, in order to choose a home for myself on the opposite side of the globe, XI 07 THE UNNECESSARY ATOM 113 where I'd not run the risk of meeting her sometime in the presence of some good unsuspecting husband whom she might have married for protection. But God knows I'd gladly give my Hfe to see her once again — to see her and our — Frank, a madman, is on his feet, his hands spread like talons reaching out blindly for Charles' throat. FRANK It's a lie! It's all a d His muscles stiffen; his body sways; he sprawls headlong upon the floor. CHARLES What's the matter, Frank? Is it your heart? Speak to me! CELIA Running into the room screaming hysterically. Frank! The bridge is falling! The bridge is falling and they're all going down with it! CHARLES Celia! You're his wife? My God, I didn't know! 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