PROF. Quite. I might develop that: "We owe it our revolt against
the academic; or our disgust at 'big business,' and all the grossness
of commercial success. We owe----". [His voice peters out.]
WIFE. It--love.
PROF. [Abstracted] Eh!
WIFE. I said: We owe it love.
PROF. [Rather startled] Possibly. But--er [With a dry smile]
I mustn't say that here--hardly!
WIFE. [To herself and the moonlight] Orpheus with his lute!
PROF. Most people think a lute is a sort of flute. [Yawning
heavily] My dear, if you're not going to sing again, d'you mind
sitting down? I want to concentrate.
WIFE. I'm going out.
PROF. Mind the dew!
WIFE. The Christian virtues and the dew.
PROF. [With a little dry laugh] Not bad! Not bad! The Christian
virtues and the dew. [His hand takes up his pen, his face droops
over his paper, while his wife looks at him with a very strange face]
"How far we can trace the modern resurgence against the Christian
virtues to the symbolic figures of Orpheus, Pan, Apollo, and Bacchus
might be difficult to estimate, but----"
[During those words his WIFE has passed through the window into
the moonlight, and her voice rises, singing as she goes:
"Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees .
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65