CANDIDA (delighted). He is always right. He understands you; he understands me; he understands Prossy; and you, James — you understand nothing. (She laughs, and kisses him to console him. He recoils as if stung, and springs up.)
MORELL. How can you bear to do that when — oh, Candida (with anguish in his voice) I had rather you had plunged a grappling iron into my heart than given me that kiss.
CANDIDA (rising, alarmed). My dear: what’s the matter?
MORELL (frantically waving her off). Don’t touch me.
CANDIDA (amazed). James!
(They are interrupted by the entrance of Marchbanks, with Burgess, who stops near the door, staring, whilst Eugene hurries forward between them.)
MARCHBANKS. Is anything the matter?
MORELL (deadly white, putting an iron constraint on himself). Nothing but this: that either you were right this morning, or Candida is mad.
BURGESS (in loudest protest). Wot! Candy mad too! Oh, come, come, come! (He crosses the room to the fireplace, protesting as he goes, and knocks the ashes out of his pipe on the bars. Morell sits down desperately, leaning forward to hide his face, and interlacing his fingers rigidly to keep them steady.)
CANDIDA (to Morell, relieved and laughing). Oh, you’re only shocked! Is that all? How conventional all you unconventional people are!
BURGESS. Come: be’ave yourself, Candy. What’ll Mr. Morchbanks think of you?
CANDIDA. This comes of James teaching me to think for myself, and never to hold back out of fear of what other people may think of me. It works beautifully as long as I think the same things as he does. But now, because I have just thought something different! — look at him — just look!
(She points to Morell, greatly amused. Eugene looks, and instantly presses his band on his heart, as if some deadly pain had shot through it, and sits down on the sofa like a man witnessing a tragedy.)
BURGESS (on the hearthrug). Well, James, you certainly ain’t as himpressive lookin’ as usu’l.
MORELL (with a laugh which is half a sob). I suppose not. I beg all your pardons: I was not conscious of making a fuss. (Pulling himself together.) Well, well, well, well, well! (He goes back to his place at the table, setting to work at his papers again with resolute cheerfulness.)
CANDIDA (going to the sofa and sitting beside Marchbanks, still in a bantering humor). Well, Eugene, why are you so sad? Did the onions make you cry?
(Morell cannot prevent himself from watching them.)
MARCHBANKS (aside to her). It is your cruelty. I hate cruelty. It is a horrible thing to see one person make another suffer.
CANDIDA (petting him ironically). Poor boy, have I been cruel? Did I make it slice nasty little red onions?
MARCHBANKS (earnestly). Oh, stop, stop: I don’t mean myself. You have made him suffer frightfully. I feel his pain in my own heart. I know that it is not your fault — it is something that must happen; but don’t make light of it. I shudder when you torture him and laugh.
CANDIDA (incredulously). I torture James! Nonsense, Eugene: how you exaggerate! Silly! (She looks round at Morell, who hastily resumes his writing. She goes to him and stands behind his chair, bending over him.) Don’t work any more, dear. Come and talk to us.
MORELL (affectionately but bitterly). Ah no: I can’t talk. I can only preach.
CANDIDA (caressing him). Well, come and preach.
BURGESS (strongly remonstrating). Aw, no, Candy. ‘Ang it all! (Lexy Mill comes in, looking anxious and important.)
LEXY (hastening to shake hands with Candida). How do you do, Mrs. Morell? So glad to see you back again.
CANDIDA. Thank you, Lexy. You know Eugene, don’t you?
LEXY. Oh, yes. How do you do, Marchbanks?
MARCHBANKS. Quite well, thanks.
LEXY (to Morell). I’ve just come from the Guild of St. Matthew. They are in the greatest consternation about your telegram. There’s nothing wrong, is there?
CANDIDA. What did you telegraph about, James?
LEXY (to Candida). He was to have spoken for them tonight. They’ve taken the large hall in Mare Street and spent a lot of money on posters. Morell’s telegram was to say he couldn’t come. It came on them like a thunderbolt.
CANDIDA (surprized, and beginning to suspect something wrong). Given up an engagement to speak!
BURGESS. First time in his life, I’ll bet. Ain’ it, Candy?
LEXY (to Morell). They decided to send an urgent telegram to you asking whether you could not change your mind. Have you received it?
MORELL (with restrained impatience). Yes, yes: I got it.
LEXY. It was reply paid.
MORELL. Yes, I know. I answered it. I can’t go.
CANDIDA. But why, James?
MORELL (almost fiercely). Because I don’t choose. These people forget that I am a man: they think I am a talking machine to be turned on for their pleasure every evening of my life. May I not have ONE night at home, with my wife, and my friends?
(They are all amazed at this outburst, except Eugene. His expression remains unchanged.)
CANDIDA. Oh, James, you know you’ll have an attack of bad conscience tomorrow; and I shall have to suffer for that.
LEXY (intimidated, but urgent). I know, of course, that they make the most unreasonable demands on you. But they have been telegraphing all over the place for another speaker: and they can get nobody but the President of the Agnostic League.
MORELL (promptly). Well, an excellent man. What better do they want?
LEXY. But he always insists so powerfully on the divorce of Socialism from Christianity. He will undo all the good we have been doing. Of course you know best; but — (He hesitates.)
CANDIDA (coaxingly). Oh, DO go, James. We’ll all go.
BURGESS (grumbling). Look ‘ere, Candy! I say! Let’s stay at home by the fire, comfortable. He won’t need to be more’n a couple-o’-hour away.
CANDIDA. You’ll be just as comfortable at the meeting. We’ll all sit on the platform and be great people.
EUGENE (terrified). Oh, please don’t let us go on the platform. No — everyone will stare at us — I couldn’t. I’ll sit at the back of the room.
CANDIDA. Don’t be afraid. They’ll be too busy looking at James to notice you.
MORELL (turning his head and looking meaningly at her over his shoulder). Prossy’s complaint, Candida! Eh?
CANDIDA (gaily). Yes.
BURGESS (mystified). Prossy’s complaint. Wot are you talking about, James?
MORELL (not heeding him, rises; goes to the door; and holds it open, shouting in a commanding voice). Miss Garnett.
PROSERPINE (in the distance). Yes, Mr. Morell. Coming. (They all wait, except Burgess, who goes stealthily to Lexy and draws him aside.)
BURGESS. Listen here, Mr. Mill. Wot’s Prossy’s complaint? Wot’s wrong with ‘er?
LEXY (confidentially). Well, I don’t exactly know; but she spoke very strangely to me this morning. I’m afraid she’s a little out of her mind sometimes.
BURGESS (overwhelmed). Why, it must be catchin’! Four in the same ‘ouse! (He goes back to the hearth, quite lost before the instability of the human intellect in a clergyman’s house.)
PROSERPINE (appearing on the threshold). What is it, Mr. Morell?
MORELL.