Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) (179 page)

CAPT. G. Good-morning, little woman. How are we to-day?

  VOICE. That’s Phil. Poor old Phil. (
Viciously.
)
  Phil, you fool, I can’t see you. Come nearer.

CAPT. G. Minnie! Minnie! It’s me — you know me?

VOICE. (
Mockingly.
) Of course I do. Who does not know the man who was so cruel to his wife — almost the only one he ever had?

CAPT. G. Yes, dear. Yes — of course, of course. But won’t you speak to him? He wants to speak to you so much.

VOICE. They’d never let him in. The Doctor would give
darwaza bund
even if he were in the house. He’ll never come. (
Despairingly.
) O Judas! Judas! Judas!

CAPT. G. (
Putting out his arms.
) They have let him in, and he always was in the house. Oh, my love — don’t you know me?

VOICE. (
In a half chant.
) ‘And it came to pass at the eleventh hour that this poor soul repented.’ It knocked at the gates, but they were shut — tight as a plaster — a great, burning plaster. They had pasted our marriage certificate all across the door, and it was made of red-hot iron — people really ought to be more careful, you know.

CAPT. G. What
am
I to do? (
Takes her in his arms.
) Minnie! speak to me — to Phil.

VOICE. What shall I say? Oh, tell me what to say before it’s too late!
They are all going away and I can’t say anything.

CAPT. G. Say you know me! Only say you know me!

DOCTOR. (
Who has entered quietly.
) For pity’s sake don’t take it too much to heart, Gadsby. It’s this way sometimes. They won’t recognise. They say all sorts of queer things — don’t you
see?

CAPT. G. All right! All right! Go away now, she’ll recognise me; you’re bothering her. She
must
— mustn’t she?

DOCTOR. She will before — Have I your leave to try — ?

CAPT. G. Anything you please, so long as she’ll know me. It’s only a question of — hours, isn’t it?

DOCTOR. (
Professionally.
) While there’s life there’s hope, y’know.
But don’t build on it.

CAPT. G. I don’t. Pull her together if it’s possible. (
Aside.
) What have I done to deserve this?

DOCTOR. (
Bending over bed.
) Now, Mrs. Gadsby! We shall be all right to-morrow. You
must
take it, or I shan’t let Phil see you. It isn’t nasty, is it?

VOICE. Medicines!
Always
more medicines! Can’t you leave me alone?

CAPT. G. Oh, leave her in peace, Doc!

DOCTOR. (
Stepping back, — aside.
) May I be forgiven if I’ve done wrong. (
Aloud.
) In a few minutes she ought to be sensible; but I daren’t tell you to look for anything. It’s only —

CAPT. G. What? Go
on
, man.

DOCTOR. (
In a whisper.
) Forcing the last rally.

CAPT. G. Then leave us alone.

DOCTOR. Don’t mind what she says at first, if you can. They — they — they turn against those they love most sometimes in this. — It’s hard, but —

CAPT. G. Am I her husband or are you? Leave us alone for what time we have together.

VOICE. (
Confidentially.
) And we were engaged
quite
suddenly, Emma. I assure you that I never thought of it for a moment; but, oh, my little Me! — I don’t know
what
I should have done if he
hadn’t
proposed.

CAPT. G. She thinks of that Deercourt girl before she thinks of me. (
Aloud.
) Minnie!

VOICE. Not from the shops, Mummy dear. You can get the real leaves from Kaintu, and (
laughing weakly
) never mind about the blossoms — Dead white silk is only fit for widows, and I
won’t
wear it. It’s as bad as a winding sheet. (
A long pause.
)

CAPT. G. I never asked a favour yet. If there is anybody to listen to me, let her know me — even if I die too!

VOICE. (
Very faintly.
) Pip, Pip dear.

CAPT. G. I’m here, darling.

VOICE. What has happened? They’ve been bothering me so with medicines and things, and they wouldn’t let you come and see me. I was never ill before. Am I ill now?

CAPT. G. You — you aren’t quite well.

VOICE. How funny! Have I been ill long?

CAPT. G. Some days; but you’ll be all right in a little time.

VOICE. Do you think so, Pip? I don’t feel well and — Oh! what
have
they done to my hair?

CAPT. G. I d-d-don’t know.

VOICE. They’ve cut it off. What a shame!

CAPT. G. It must have been to make your head cooler.

VOICE. ‘Just like a boy’s wig. Don’t I look horrid?

CAPT. G. Never looked prettier in your life, dear. (
Aside.
) How am I to ask her to say good-bye?

VOICE. I don’t
feel
pretty. I feel very ill. My heart won’t work.
It’s nearly dead inside me, and there’s a funny feeling in my eyes.
Everything seems the same distance — you and the almirah and the
table — inside my eyes or miles away. What does it mean, Pip?

CAPT. G. You’re a little feverish, Sweetheart — very feverish. (
Breaking down.
) My love! my love! How can I let you go?

VOICE. I thought so. Why didn’t you tell me that at first?

CAPT. G. What?

VOICE. That I am going to — die.

CAPT. G. But you aren’t! You shan’t.

AYAH
to punkah-coolie
. (
Stepping into veranda after a glance at the bed.
)
Punkah chor do!
(Stop pulling the punkah.)

VOICE. It’s hard, Pip. So very,
very
hard after one year — just one year. (
Wailing.
) And I’m only twenty. Most girls aren’t even married at twenty. Can’t they do
anything
to help me? I don’t
want
to die.

CAPT. G. Hush, dear. You won’t.

VOICE. What’s the use of talking?
Help
me! You’ve never failed me yet. Oh, Phil, help me to keep alive. (
Feverishly.
) I don’t believe you wish me to live. You weren’t a bit sorry when that horrid Baby thing died. I wish I’d killed it!

CAPT. G. (
Drawing his hand across his forehead.
) It’s more than a man’s meant to bear — it’s not right. (
Aloud.
) Minnie, love, I’d die for you if it would help.

VOICE. No more death. There’s enough already. Pip, don’t
you
die too.

CAPT. G. I wish I dared.

VOICE. It says: ‘Till Death do us part.’ Nothing after that — and so it would be no use. It stops at the dying.
Why
does it stop there? Only such a very short life, too. Pip, I’m sorry we married.

CAPT. G. No! Anything but that, Min!

VOICE. Because you’ll forget and I’ll forget. Oh, Pip,
don’t
forget! I always loved you, though I was cross sometimes. If I ever did anything that you didn’t like, say you forgive me now.

CAPT. G. You never did, darling. On my soul and honour you never did.
I haven’t a thing to forgive you.

VOICE. I sulked for a whole week about those petunias. (
With a laugh.
)
What a little wretch I was, and how grieved you were! Forgive me that,
Pip.

CAPT. G. There’s nothing to forgive. It was my fault. They
were
too near the drive. For God’s sake
don’t
talk so, Minnie! There’s such a lot to say and so little time to say it in.

VOICE. Say that you’ll always love me — until the end.

CAPT. G. Until the end. (
Carried away.
) It’s a lie. It
must
be, because we’ve loved each other. This isn’t the end.

VOICE. (
Relapsing into semi-delirium.
)
My
Church-service has an ivory-cross on the back, and
it
says so, so it must be true. ‘Till Death do us part.’ — But that’s a lie. (
With a parody of
G.’s
manner.
) A damned lie! (
Recklessly.
) Yes, I can swear as well as Trooper Pip. I can’t make my head think, though. That’s because they cut off my hair. How
can
one think with one’s head all fuzzy? (
Pleadingly.
) Hold me, Pip! Keep me with you always and always. (
Relapsing.
) But if you marry the Thorniss girl when I’m dead, I’ll come back and howl under our bedroom window all night. Oh, bother! You’ll think I’m a jackal. Pip, what time is it?

CAPT. G. I — I — I can’t help it, dear.

VOICE. How funny! I couldn’t cry now to save my life. (G.
shivers.
)
I
want to sing.

CAPT. G. Won’t it tire you? Better not, perhaps.

VOICE. Why? I
won’t
be bothered about. (
Begins in a hoarse quaver
): —

       ’Minnie bakes oaten cake, Minnie brews ale,
       All because her Johnnie’s coming home from the sea.
            (That’s parade, Pip.)
       And she grows red as rose, who was so pale;
       And “Are you sure the church-clock goes?” says she.’

(
Pettishly.
) I knew I couldn’t take the last note. How do the bass chords run? (
Puts out her hands and begins playing piano on the sheet.
)

CAPT. G. (
Catching up hands.
) Ahh! Don’t do that, Pussy, if you love me.

VOICE. Love you? Of course I do. Who else should it be? (
A pause.
)

VOICE. (
Very clearly.
) Pip, I’m going now. Something’s choking me cruelly. (
Indistinctly.
) Into the dark — without you, my heart. — But it’s a lie, dear — we mustn’t believe it. — For ever and ever, living or dead. Don’t let me go, my husband — hold me tight. — They can’t — whatever happens. (
A cough.
) Pip —
my
Pip! Not for always — and — so — soon! (
Voice ceases.
)

Pause of ten minutes.
G.
buries his face in the side of the bed while ayah bends over bed from opposite side and feels
MRS. G.’s
breast and forehead.

CAPT. G. (
Rising.
)
Doctor Sahib ko salaam do.

AYAH. (
Still by bedside, with a shriek.
) Ai! Ai!
Tuta — -phuta!
My
Memsahib!
Not getting — not have got! —
Pusseena agya!
(The sweat has come.) (
Fiercely to
G.) TUM
jao Doctor Sahib ko jaldi!
(
You
go to the doctor.)
Oh,
my
Memsahib!

DOCTOR. (
Entering hastily.
) Come away, Gadsby. (
Bends over bed.
)
Eh! The Dev — What inspired you to stop the punkah? Get out, man — go
away — wait outside!
Go!
Here, Ayah! (
Over his shoulder to
G.) Mind,
I promise nothing.

The dawn breaks as
G.
stumbles into the garden.

CAPT. M. (
Reining up at the gate on his way to parade and very soberly.
) Old man, how goes?

CAPT. G. (
Dazed.
) I don’t quite know. Stay a bit. Have a drink or something. Don’t run away. You’re just getting amusing. Ha! Ha!

CAPT. M. (
Aside.
) What
am
I let in for? Gaddy has aged ten years in the night.

CAPT. G. (
Slowly, fingering charger’s headstall.
) Your curb’s too loose.

CAPT. M. So it is. Put it straight, will you? (
Aside.
) I shall be late for parade. Poor Gaddy.

CAPT. G.
links and unlinks curb-chain aimlessly, and finally stands staring towards the veranda. The day brightens.

DOCTOR. (
Knocked out of professional gravity, tramping across flower-beds and shaking
G.’s
hands.
) It’s — it’s — it’s! — Gadsby, there’s a fair chance — a
dashed
fair chance! The flicker, y’know. The sweat, y’know! I
saw
how it would be. The punkah, y’know. Deuced clever woman that Ayah of yours. Stopped the punkah just at the right time. A
dashed
good chance! No — you don’t go in. We’ll pull her through yet I promise on my reputation — under Providence. Send a man with this note to Bingle. Two heads better than one. ‘Specially the Ayah!
We’ll
pull her round. (
Retreats hastily to house.
)

CAPT. G. (
His head on neck of
M.’s
charger.
)
Jack!
I bub — bub — believe, I’m going to make a bub — bub — bloody exhibitiod of byself.

CAPT. M. (
Sniffing openly and feeling in his left cuff.
) I b-b — believe, I’b doing it already. Old bad, what
cad
I say? I’b as pleased as — Cod
dab
you, Gaddy! You’re one big idiot and I’b adother. (
Pulling himself together.
) Sit tight! Here comes the Devil-dodger.

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. (
Who is not in the Doctor’s confidence.
) We — we are only men in these things, Gadsby. I know that I can say nothing now to help —

CAPT. M. (
Jealously.
) Then don’t say it! Leave him alone. It’s not bad enough to croak over. Here, Gaddy, take the
chit
to Bingle and ride hell-for-leather. It’ll do you good. I can’t go.

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. Do him good! (
Smiling.
) Give me the
chit
and I’ll drive. Let him lie down. Your horse is blocking my cart —
please!

CAPT. M. (
Slowly without reining back.
) I beg your pardon — I’ll apologise. On paper if you like.

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. (
Flicking
M.’s
charger.
) That’ll do, thanks. Turn in, Gadsby, and I’ll bring Bingle back — ahem — ’hell-for-leather.’