C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Vagabonds
By John Galsworthy (1867–1933)
F
Wellwyn[quietly]—Go on, go on.[There is silence.]
Ferrand[suddenly]—Monsieur! Are you really English? The English are so civilized.
Wellwyn—And am I not?
Ferrand—You treat me like a brother.
Wellwyn—What’s happened? Constable! What’s happened!
Wellwyn[feeling her heart]—I don’t feel anything.
Ferrand[in a voice sharpened by emotion]—Let me try, Monsieur.
Constable[touching his arm]—You keep off, my lad.
Wellwyn—No, constable—let him. He’s her friend.
Constable[releasing Ferrand—to the Loafer]—Here you! Cut off for a doctor—sharp now![He pushes back the curious persons.]Now then, stand away there, please—we can’t have you round the body. Keep back—Clear out, now!
Ferrand[rubbing her feet]—She has not yet her philosophy, Monsieur; at the beginning they often try. If she is dead![In a voice of awed rapture.]What fortune!
Constable[with puzzled sadness]—True enough, sir—that! We’d just begun to know ’er. If she ’as been taken—her best friends couldn’t wish ’er better.
Wellwyn[applying the decanter to her lips]—Poor little thing! I’ll try this hot tea.
Ferrand[whispering]—La mort—le grand ami!
Wellwyn—Look! Look at her! She’s coming round!
Ferrand[rising]—Bring her to the fire, Monsieur.
Mrs. Megan—Yes.
Wellwyn—That’s good. That’s good. Now, how was it? Um?
Mrs. Megan—I dunno.[She shivers.]I was standin’ here just now when you was talkin’, and when I heard ’im, it cam’ over me to do it—like.
Wellwyn—Ah, yes, I know.
Mrs. Megan—I didn’t seem no good to meself nor anyone. But when I got in the water, I didn’t want to any more. It was cold in there.
Wellwyn—Have you been having such a bad time of it?
Mrs. Megan—Yes. And listenin’ to him upset me.[She signs with her head at Ferrand.]I feel better now I’ve been in the water.[She smiles and shivers.]
Wellwyn—There, there— Shivery? Like to walk up and down a little?[They begin walking together up and down.]
Wellwyn—Beastly when your head goes under?
Mrs. Megan—Yes. It frightened me. I thought I wouldn’t come up again.
Wellwyn—I know—sort of world without end, wasn’t it? What did you think of, um?
Mrs. Megan—I wished I ’adn’t jumped—an’ I thought of my baby—that died—and—[in a rather surprised voice]and I thought of d-dancin’.
Wellwyn—Ah! what a comfort—um?
Mrs. Megan—Yes. The water got into me mouth.[They walk again.]I wouldn’t have gone to do it but for him.[She looks towards Ferrand.]His talk made me feel all funny, as if people wanted me to.
Wellwyn—My dear child! Don’t think such things! As if anyone would——!
Mrs. Megan[stolidly]—I thought they did. They used to look at me so sometimes, where I was before I ran away—I couldn’t stop there, you know.
Wellwyn—Too cooped-up?
Mrs. Megan—Yes. No life at all, it wasn’t—not after sellin’ flowers, I’d rather be doin’ what I am.
Wellwyn—Ah! Well—it’s all over, now! How d’you feel—eh? Better?
Mrs. Megan—Yes, I feels all right now.
Mrs. Megan—Yes.
Wellwyn—That’s a blessing. All well now, Constable—thank you!
Constable[who has remained discreetly apart at the door—cordially]—First rate, sir! That’s capital![He approaches and scrutinizes Mrs. Megan.]Right as rain, eh, my girl?
Mrs. Megan[shrinking a little]—Yes.
Constable—That’s fine. Then I think perhaps, for ’er sake, the sooner we move on and get her a change o’ clothin’, the better.
Wellwyn—Oh! don’t bother about that—I’ll send round for my daughter—we’ll manage for her here.
Constable—Very kind of you, I’m sure, sir. But[with embarrassment]she seems all right. She’ll get every attention at the station.
Wellwyn—But I assure you, we don’t mind at all; we’ll take the greatest care of her.
Constable[still more embarrassed]—Well, sir, of course, I’m afraid I can’t depart from the usual course.
Wellwyn[sharply]—What! But—oh! No! No! That’ll be all right, Constable! That’ll be all right! I assure you.
Constable[with more decision]—I’ll have to charge her, sir.
Wellwyn—Good God! You don’t mean to say the poor little thing has got to be——
Constable[consulting with him]—Well, sir, we can’t get over the facts, can we? There it is! You know what sooicide amounts to—it’s an awkward job.
Wellwyn[calming himself with an effort]—But look here, Constable, as a reasonable man.—This poor wretched little girl—you know what that life means better than anyone! Why! It’s to her credit to try and jump out of it![The Constable shakes his head.]
Wellwyn—You said yourself her best friends couldn’t wish her better![Dropping his voice still more.]Everybody feels it! The Vicar was here a few minutes ago saying the very same thing—the Vicar, Constable![The Constable shakes his head.]Ah! now, look here, I know something of her. Nothing can be done with her. We all admit it. Don’t you see? Well, then, hang it—you needn’t go and make fools of us all by——
Ferrand—Monsieur, it is the first of April.
Constable[with a sharp glance at him]—Can’t neglect me duty, sir; that’s impossible.
Wellwyn—Look here! She—slipped. She’s been telling me. Come, Constable, there’s a good fellow. May be the making of her, this.
Constable—I quite appreciate your good ’eart, sir, an’ you make it very ’ard for me—but, come now! I put it to you as a gentleman, would you go back on yer duty if you was me?
Constable—Come, sir, come! Be a man!