The Double Widowing Part 2

Countess Why doesn't he come then?

Mrs. MacPherson Madame, to appear to you in his proper attire, he has gone to have his wig curled and powdered.

Maid He's rouging also. For he went to the Wells to lighten his skin.

Mrs. MacPherson Don't mock him before her, mam. He went to the waters to improve his health. And to please me, for he loves me, and I am determined that he be healthy.

Countess I am delighted to see you in such good humor.

Mrs. MacPherson I am happy because my husband has returned. And also, because your servant has been slipping us a little wine--discreetly. Women from my country are born for wine, like the French are born for love. Each to his custom and often enough the one does not impede the other.

Maid Here is Mr. MacPherson, Madame. You are going to hear an interesting speech, because he's erudite, your Highlander.

MacPherson (entering) Madame, Madame.

Countess Don't waste your time bowing. Tell me--is Bramble dead?

MacPherson I know all about these matters--in extreme exact.i.tude.

Countess All these things consist in one word--he's dead, or he isn't.

MacPherson It is necessary to explain all these things to you by direction. For, when I left you, you directed that I should bring you a report of all the circ.u.mstances of our trip in writing.

Countess Very well. What I want to know is written in your journal.

MacPherson My journal consists of words without paper. For I have written in my mind--in three little chapters--our departure, our trip, our return.

Countess Here's a well-ordered explanation.

MacPherson With regard to the first, Mr. Bramble was very ridiculous, very ridiculous. He said he'd been married to his wife for ten years without children, and it was to cure sterility that he was going to the waters. So much for what he said as soon as he arrived.

Countess If this story wasn't so funny, it would make me very impatient.

MacPherson In the second chapter, your bailiff was also very ridiculous. For I like wine, and he went to the waters to drink water, and in this water, he found, in place of virility--illness-so much illness, that he is dying.

Countess Now, we're at the point. Bramble thought he was dying and is not dead.

Listen, you must tell his wife that when her husband was dying--he died.

MacPherson Ha, ha, ha. When one finds the widow of a living man, we'll have a good laugh.

Countess When is he coming? Where did you leave him?

MacPherson I left him yesterday, about thirty leagues from here, when his coach broke down. Go on ahead, he said, for I'm likely to be sick here until tomorrow, and my coach won't be ready till Monday. I will come on Tuesday.

(Exit MacPherson and Mrs. MacPherson.)

Countess According to that, he won't be here until tomorrow--and cannot disturb our project today. So, Miss, tell my dancing women to prepare for the wedding I intend to celebrate today.

Maid We will do all our best to please you, and though I sing poorly, I can sing a sad song about being a widow.

Countess It's Tuneless who is getting everything ready. He wants to be a music master, my Butler.

Maid He's an original. Look here. I believe he's composing--for he's walking to the beat. Hold, hold, Madame, the spirit torments him--he's possessed by the demon of music.

Countess Shh! He doesn't see us. Let's give him the pleasure--

Tuneless (entering) Nothing's going right, dammit. La, la, la, la. I can never find a completely new idea. (slowly) La, la, la, la, la--no, that opening's in Lully. La, la, la, la, la, la--Lully again. La, la, la, la--Lully again. That Lully everywhere--everywhere I turn. I am very unfortunate not to have been born before him. Everything I have in my head is useless because they say I plagiarize him. La, la, la, la, la--good there. La, la, la, la, la. Admirable. La, la. Marvelous. And the second, lower--la, la, la, low tone, what invention. La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la--what reflections of genius. The notes are coming to me--write them down quickly. (with one knee on the ground, he writes on some paper on the other knee, until, perceiving the Countess, he takes off his hat in this position and continues to write) (singing) Pardon me, Madame, oh pardon, Madame, da, de, da, de da, Madame. I note the last tone. (rising and bowing to the Countess) It's a duo for an aria about widowhood, as you have commanded. (giving her a paper.

Wait, Madame--you know how to sing without a book.

Countess I see Mrs. Bramble in the gallery. I must speak with our widow.

Tuneless Let us sing together, and that will serve as a rehearsal.

(Exit Countess.)

Tuneless (to Maid) Now you will represent the widow. Carefully imitate the affliction of widows. Cry with your eyes down in your chin.

Lucy (entering) Retire. My mistress approaches. She's coming here to cry on the way.

She needs practice.

Tuneless Exactly. Soon she'll be crying for her money. Real tears then.

Lucy Don't joke. I'm afraid all this may be dangerous for her.

Tuneless Why is that?

Lucy I'm sorry for her. When the Countess guaranteed she was a widow, it was like a knife thrust in her heart.

Tuneless What? She felt the blow?

Lucy Think what she's going to feel when they undeceive her. The loss of her delightful status of widowhood will cause her to die.

Tuneless Let's come to the business. Tell me truly, now that she believes her husband is dead--is she in love with Desmond, and does she plan to marry him?

Lucy She thought about it even while she was alive. And I always thought she prayed the nephew would outlive his uncle.

Tuneless >From the confidences her husband has made to me, I have often thought he destined his niece for the post of her aunt. He was quite explicit that Arabella was the niece of his wife only in the third degree.

Lucy My mistress wishes that Desmond was not her husband's nephew.

Tuneless These sentiments astonish me in a woman so careful of the proprieties.

Lucy She's proper in public, but with certain women, public morals and private morals differ as much their faces do from the time they get up and the time they go to bed.

Tuneless Everything considered, I judge that these two are perfectly matched in all the arts of conjugal hypocrisy.

Lucy They love each other, in proportion to the wealth they hope to obtain from each other.

Tuneless Yes, self-interest by itself produces more false love in some families than true love produces in all the sincere lovers in London.