The Greatest Plays of William Somerset Maugham. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм
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shouldn't I talk? D'you think I'm not good enough, eh? I should have thought I was more important than your letters.
[Basil does not answer.
Jenny.
[Angrily.] Am I your wife or not?
Basil.
[Ironically.] You have your marriage lines carefully locked up to prove it.
Jenny.
Then why don't you treat me as your wife? You seem to think I'm only fit to see after the house and order the dinner and mend your clothes. And after that I can go and sit in the kitchen with the servant.
Basil.
[Moving again towards the door.] D'you think it's worth while making a scene? We seem to have said all this before so many times.
Jenny.
[Interrupting him.] I want to have it out.
Basil.
[Bored.] We've been having it out twice a week for the last six months—and we've never got anywhere yet.
Jenny.
I'm not going to be always put upon, I'm your wife and I'm as good as you are.
Basil.
[With a thin smile.] Oh, my dear, if you're going in for women's rights, you may have my vote by all means. And you can plump for all the candidates at once if you choose.
Jenny.
You seem to think it's a joke.
Basil.
[Bitterly.] Oh no, I promise you I don't do that. It's lasted too long. And God knows where it'll end.... They say the first year of marriage is the worst; ours has been bad enough in all conscience.
Jenny.
[Aggressively.] And I suppose you think it's my fault?
Basil.
Don't you think we're both more or less to blame?
Jenny.
[With a laugh.] Oh, I'm glad you acknowledge that you have something to do with it.
Basil.
I tried to make you happy.
Jenny.
Well, you haven't succeeded very well. Did you think I was likely to be happy—when you leave me alone all day and half the night for your swell friends that I'm not good enough for?
Basil.
That's not true. I hardly ever see any of my old friends.
Jenny.
Except Mrs. Murray, eh?
Basil.
I've seen Mrs. Murray perhaps a dozen times in the last year.
Jenny.
Oh, you needn't tell me that. I know it. She's a lady, isn't she?
Basil.
[Ignoring the charge.] And my work takes me away from you. I can't always be down here. Think how bored you'd be.
Jenny.
A precious lot of good your work does. You can't earn enough money to keep us out of debt.
Basil.
[Good-humouredly.] We are in debt. But we share that very respectable condition with half the nobility and gentry in the kingdom. We're neither of us good managers, and we've lived a bit beyond our means this year. But in future we'll be more economical.
Jenny.
[Sullenly.] All the neighbours know that we've got bills with the tradesmen.
Basil.
[Acidly.] I'm sorry that you shouldn't have made so good a bargain as you expected when you married me.
Jenny.
I wonder what you do succeed in? Your book was very successful, wasn't it? You thought you were going to set the Thames on fire, and the book fell flat, flat, flat.
Basil.
[Recovering his good temper.] That is a fate which has befallen better books than mine.
Jenny.
It deserved it.
Basil.
Oh, I didn't expect you to appreciate it. It isn't given to all of us to write about wicked earls and beautiful duchesses.
Jenny.
Well, I wasn't the only one. The papers praised it, didn't they?
Basil.
The unanimity of their blame was the only thing that consoled me.
Jenny.
And one of them advised you to study an English grammar. And you're the fine gentleman who looks down on poor things like us!
Basil.
I often wonder if the reviewer who abuses you for a printer's error realises what pleasure he causes the wife of your bosom.
Jenny.
Oh, I've learnt to know you so well this last six months—since the baby died. You've got no cause to set yourself up on a pedestal.
Basil.
[With a laugh.] My dear Jenny, I never pretended to be a golden idol.
Jenny.
I know what you are now. And I was such a fool as to think you a hero. You're merely a failure. In everything you try you're a miserable failure.
Basil.
[With a slight sigh.] Perhaps you're right, Jenny.
[Basil walks up and down; and then, stopping, looks at her for a moment meditatively.
Basil.
I sometimes wonder whether we shouldn't be happier—if we lived apart.
Jenny.
[With a start.] What d'you mean?
Basil.
We don't seem able to get on very well. And I see no chance of things going any better.
Jenny.
[With staring eyes.] D'you mean to say you want to separate?
Basil.
I think it might be better for both of us—at least for a time. Perhaps later on we might try again.
Jenny.
And what'll you do?
Basil.
I should go abroad for a while.
Jenny.
With Mrs. Murray. Is that it? You want to go away with her.
Basil.
[Impatiently.] No. Of course not.
Jenny.
I don't believe it. You're in love with her.
Basil.
You've got no right to say that.
Jenny.
Haven't I? I suppose I must shut my eyes and say nothing. You're in love with her. D'you think I've not seen it in these months? That's why you want to leave me.
Basil.
It's impossible for us to live together. We shall never agree, and we shall never be happy. For God's sake let us separate and have done with it.
Jenny.
You're sick of me. You've had