The Importance of Being Esteban - Act 3
(Continued from Act 1 and Act 2)
Act III
Morning-room at the castle.
[Diana and Sophie are at the window, looking out into the garden.]
Diana. They’re looking at us. What effrontery!
Sophie. They’re approaching. That’s very forward of them.
Diana. Let us preserve a dignified silence.
Sophie. Certainly. It’s the only thing to do now. [Enter Stephen followed by Jack. Stephen whistles and Jack hums some dreadful popular air from an Italian opera. Stephen begins to sing in a creaking voice.]
Diana. This dignified silence seems to produce an unpleasant effect.
Sophie. A most distasteful one.
Diana. But we will not be the first to speak.
Sophie. Certainly not.
Diana. Dr. Maturin, I have something very particular to ask you. Much depends on your reply.
Sophie. Diana, your common sense is invaluable. Captain Aubrey, kindly answer me the following question. Why did you pretend to be my guardian’s brother?
Jack. In order that I might have an opportunity of meeting you.
Sophie. [To Diana.] That certainly seems a satisfactory explanation, does it not?
Diana. Yes, dear, if you can believe him.
Sophie. I don’t. But that does not affect the wonderful beauty of his answer.
Diana. True. In matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity is the vital thing. Dr. Maturin, what explanation can you offer to me for pretending to have a brother? Was it in order that you might have an opportunity of coming up to England to see me as often as possible?
Stephen. Just so, Mrs. Villiers.
Diana. I have the gravest doubts upon the truth of your answer, but I have always held a truth of my own sort. [Moving to Sophie.] Their explanations appear to be quite satisfactory, especially Dr. Maturin’s.
Sophie. I am more than content with what Captain Aubrey said. His booming voice alone inspires one with absolute credulity.
Diana. Then you think we should forgive them?
Sophie. Yes. I mean no.
Diana. True! I had forgotten. There are principles at stake that one cannot surrender. Which of us should tell them? The task is not a pleasant one.
Sophie. Could we not both speak at the same time?
Diana. Don’t be such a child, Sophie. Just tell them.
Sophie Your Christian names are still an insuperable barrier. That is all!
Jack Our Christian names! Is that all? But we are going to be christened this afternoon.
Stephen [Nods soberly]
Diana. [To Stephen.] For my sake you are prepared to do this terrible thing?
Stephen. I am.
Sophie. [To Jack.] To please me you are ready to face this fearful ordeal?
Jack. I am!
Diana. How absurd to talk of the equality of the sexes! Where questions of self-sacrifice are concerned, men are infinitely beyond us.
Jack. We are! [Attempts to clasp hands with Stephen, who pulls away.]
Sophie. They have moments of physical courage of which we women know absolutely nothing.
Diana. [To Stephen.] Darling!
Jack. [To Sophie.] Darling! [They fall into each other’s arms.]
[Enter Bonden. When he enters he coughs loudly, seeing the situation.]
Bonden. Ahem! Ahem! Mrs. Williams!
Stephen. Good heavens!
[Enter Mrs. Williams. The couples separate in alarm. Exit Bonden.]
Mrs. Williams. Diana! What does this mean?
Diana. Merely that I am engaged to be married to Dr. Maturin, Aunt.
Mrs. Williams. Come here, Diana. Sit down. Sit down immediately. [Turns to Stephen.] Apprised, sir, of my niece’s sudden flight by her mad elderly cousin, whose confidence I purchased by means of a small teapot, I followed her at once in a passing privateer. Of course, you will clearly understand that all communication between yourself and my niece must cease immediately from this moment. On this point, as indeed on all points, I am firm.
Stephen. I am engaged to be married to Diana, Mrs. Williams.
Mrs. Williams. You are nothing of the kind, sir. And now, as regards Jack... Jack!
Jack. Yes, Aunt Williams.
Mrs. Williams. May I ask if it is in this house that your invalid friend Captain Melbury resides?
Jack. [Stammering.] Oh! No! Melbury doesn’t live here. Melbury is somewhere else at present. In fact, Melbury is dead,
Mrs. Williams. Dead! When did Captain Melbury die? His death must have been extremely sudden.
Jack. [Airily.] Oh! I killed Melbury this afternoon. I mean poor Melbury died this afternoon.
Mrs. Williams. What did he die of?
Jack. Melbury? Oh, he was quite exploded.
Mrs. Williams. Exploded! Was he the victim of French outrage? I was not aware that the royal navy was such a dangerous career.
Jack. My dear Aunt Williams, I mean he was found out! The doctors found out that Melbury could not live, that is what I mean - so Melbury died.
Mrs. Williams. He seems to have had great confidence in the opinion of his physicians. And now that we have finally got rid of this Mr. Melbury, may I ask, Dr. Maturin, who is that young person whose hand my nephew Jack is now holding in what seems to me a peculiarly unnecessary manner?
Stephen. That lady is Miss Sophia, my ward. [Mrs. Williams bows coldly to Sophie.]
Jack. I am engaged to be married to Sophie, Aunt Williams.
Mrs. Williams. I beg your pardon?
Sophie. Captain Aubrey and I are engaged to be married, Mrs. Williams.
Mrs. Williams. [With a shiver, crossing to the sofa and sitting down.] I do not know whether there is anything peculiarly exciting in the thin air of this particular altitude of Spain, but the number of engagements that go on seems to me considerably above average. Dr. Maturin, is Miss Sophia at all connected with any of the waterside coffee houses of Spain? I merely desire information. [Stephen looks perfectly furious, but restrains himself.]
Stephen. [In a clear, cold voice.] Miss Sophia is the grand-daughter of the late Señor Maturin, my adopted father. Her family solicitors are Messrs. Scriven, Scriven, and Scriven.
Mrs. Williams. Scriven, Scriven, and Scriven? A firm of the very highest position in their profession. Indeed I am told that one of the Mr. Scrivens is occasionally to be seen at dinner parties. So far I am satisfied.
Stephen. [Very irritably.] How extremely kind of you, Mrs. Williams.
Mrs. Williams. [Rises, looks at her watch.] Diana! the time approaches for our departure. We have not a moment to lose. As a matter of form, Dr. Maturin, I had better ask you if Miss Sophia has any little fortune?
Stephen. Oh! about ten thousand pounds. That is all. Goodbye, Mrs. Williams. So pleased to have seen you.
Mrs. Williams. [Sitting down again.] A moment, Dr. Maturin. Ten thousand pounds! Miss Sophia seems to me a most attractive young lady, now that I look at her. [To Sophie.] Dear child, of course you know that Captain Aubrey has nothing but his debts to depend upon. But I do not approve of mercenary marriages. When I married Mr. Williams I had no fortune of any kind. But I never dreamed for a moment of allowing that to stand in my way. Well, I suppose I must give my consent.
Jack. Thank you, Aunt Williams.
Mrs. Williams. Sophie, you may kiss me!
Sophie. [Kisses her.] Thank you, Mrs. Williams.
Stephen. I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Mrs. Williams, but this engagement is quite out of the question. I am Miss Sophia’s guardian, and she cannot marry without my consent until she comes of age. That consent I absolutely decline to give.
Mrs. Williams. Upon what grounds may I ask? Jack is an extremely, I may almost say an ostentatiously, eligible young man. He has nothing, but he looks everything, with his gold lace and his epaulettes and his fine ships. What more can one desire?
Stephen. It pains me very much to have to speak frankly to you, Mrs. Williams, about your nephew, but the fact is that I do not approve at all of his moral character. I suspect him of being untruthful. [Jack and Sophie look at him in indignant amazement.]
Mrs. Williams. Untruthful! My nephew Jack? Impossible! He is a naval captain.
Stephen. I fear there can be no possible doubt about the matter. This afternoon during my temporary absence on an important question of international secrecy, he obtained admission to my house by means of the false pretence of being my brother. Under an assumed name he drank an entire cask of double-refined spirits that I was specially reserving for my squid collection. He also criticized my wig and frightened my marsupials. Therefore, I decline to give my consent.
Mrs. Williams. Dr. Maturin, I would beg of you to reconsider your decision.
Stephen. But my dear Mrs. Williams, the matter is entirely in your own hands. The moment you consent to my marriage with Diana, I will most gladly allow your nephew to form an alliance with my ward.
Mrs. Williams. [Rising and drawing herself up.] You must be quite aware that what you propose is out of the question.
Stephen. Then a passionate celibacy is all that any of us can look forward to, with the aid of laudanum.
Mrs. Williams. That is not the destiny I propose for Diana. Jack, of course, can choose for himself. [Pulls out her watch.] Come, dear, [Diana rises] we have already missed five, if not six, ships. To miss any more might expose us to comment on the dock.
[Enter Lord Keith.]
Lord Keith. Everything is quite ready for the christenings.
Mrs. Williams. The christenings, sir! Is not that somewhat premature?
Lord Keith. [Looking rather puzzled, and pointing to Stephen and Jack.] Both these gentlemen have expressed a desire for immediate baptism.
Mrs. Williams. At their age? The idea is grotesque and irreligious! Jack, I forbid you to be baptized. General Aubrey would be highly displeased if he learned that that was the way in which you wasted your time and money.
Lord Keith. Am I to understand then that there are to he no christenings at all this afternoon?
Stephen. I do not think that, as things are now, it would be of much practical value to either of us, Lord Keith.
Lord Keith. I am grieved to hear such sentiments from you, Dr. Maturin. However, as your present mood seems to be one peculiarly secular, I will return to the ship at once. Indeed, I have just been informed by my coxswain that for the last hour and a half Queeney has been waiting for me at the dock.
Mrs. Williams. [Starting.] Queeney! Did I hear you mention a Queeney?
Lord Keith. Yes, Mrs. Williams. I am on my way to join her.
Mrs. Williams. Pray allow me to detain you for a moment. This matter may prove to be one of vital importance to General Aubrey and myself. Is this Queeney a female of repellent aspect, remotely connected with education?
Lord Keith. [Somewhat indignantly.] She is the most cultivated of ladies, and the very picture of respectability.
Mrs. Williams. It is obviously the same person. May I ask what position she holds in your household?
Lord Keith. [Severely.] I am a celibate, madam.
Stephen. [Interposing.] Queeney, Mrs. Williams, has been for the last three years Miss Sophia’s esteemed governess and valued companion.
Mrs. Williams. In spite of what I hear of her, I must see her at once. Let her be sent for.
Lord Keith. [Looking off.] She approaches; she is nigh.
[Enter Queeney hurriedly.]
Queeney. I was told you expected me at the dock, dear Admiral. I have been waiting for you there for an hour and three-quarters. [Catches sight of Mrs. Williams, who has fixed her with a stony glare. Queeney grows pale and quails. She looks anxiously round as if desirous to escape.]
Mrs. Williams. [In a severe, judicial voice.] Queeney! [Queeney bows her head in shame.] Come here, Queeney! [Queeney approaches in a humble manner.] Queeney! Where is that baby? [General consternation. The Admiral starts back in horror. Jack pretends to be anxious to shield Sophie from hearing the details of a terrible public scandal. Diana listens eagerly. Stephen is bored.] Thirty-odd years ago, Queeney, you left Mr. William’s house in charge of a basket that contained a baby of the male sex. You never returned. A few weeks later, through the elaborate investigations of the Metropolitan police, the basket was discovered at midnight, standing by itself in a remote corner of Ireland. It contained the manuscript of a three-volume ancient Greek history of more than usually revolting sentimentality. [Queeney starts in involuntary indignation.] But the baby was not there! [Every one looks at Queeney.] Queeney! Where is that baby? [A pause.]
Queeney. Mrs. Williams, I admit with shame that I do not know. I only wish I did. On the morning of the day you mention, I prepared as usual to take the baby out in its basket. I had also with me a somewhat old, but capacious reticule in which I had intended to place the manuscript of a work of historical study that I had written during my few unoccupied hours. In a moment of mental abstraction, for which I never can forgive myself, I deposited the manuscript in the basket, and placed the baby in the reticule.
Stephen. [Who has now been listening attentively.] But where did you deposit the reticule?
Queeney. I left it in a coffee house in Mahon.
Stephen. What coffee house?
Queeney. [Quite crushed.] Joselito’s. Near the waterside. [Sinks into a chair.]
Stephen. I must retire to my room for a moment. Diana, wait here for me.
Diana. If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life. [Looks out the window for other possible suitors. Exit Stephen in great excitement.]
Lord Keith. What do you think this means?
Diana. This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last. [Enter Stephen with a reticule of black silk in his hand.]
Stephen. [Rushing over to Queeney.] Is this the reticule, Queeney? Examine it carefully before you speak. The happiness of more than one life depends on your answer.
Queeney. [Calmly.] It seems to be mine. Yes, here is the injury it received through the upsetting of a Seine coach in younger and happier days. And here, on the lock, are my initials. The bag is undoubtedly mine. I am delighted to have it so unexpectedly restored to me.
Stephen. [In a creaky voice.] Queeney, more is restored to you than this reticule. I was the baby you placed in it.
Queeney. [Amazed.] You?
Stephen. [Embracing her.] Yes... mother!
Queeney. [Recoiling in indignant astonishment.] Dr. Maturin! I am unmarried.
Stephen. Unmarried. I do not deny I have always suspected as much. I have long been resolved to my state of bastardy. Mother, I forgive you. [Tries to embrace her again.]
Queeney. [Still more indignant.] Dr. Maturin, there is some error. [Pointing to Mrs. Williams.] There is the lady who can tell you who you really are.
Stephen. [After a pause.] Mrs. Williams, I apologize if I seem inquisitive, but would you kindly inform me who I am?
Mrs. Williams. I am afraid that the news I have to give you will not altogether please you. You are the son of my poor sister, the first Mrs. Aubrey, and consequently Jack’s brother.
Stephen. Jack’s brother! Then I have a brother after all. And I am not a bastard! Jack, you scrub, you will have to treat me with more respect in the future. You have never behaved to me like a brother in all your life.
Jack. Well, not till today, my plum, I admit. I did my best, however, though I was out of practice.
[Shakes hands.]
Diana. [To Stephen.] My own! But what own are you? What is your Christian name, now that you have become some one else?
Stephen. Just so. I had quite forgotten that point. Your decision on the subject of my name is irrevocable, I suppose?
Diana. I never change, except in my affections.
Stephen. Then the question had better be cleared up at once. Aunt Williams, a moment. At the time when Queeney left me in the reticule, had I been christened already?
Mrs. Williams. Every luxury that money could buy, including christening, had been lavished on you by your fond and doting parents.
Stephen. Then I was christened! That is settled. Now, what name was I given?
Mrs. Williams. You were christened after your father.
Stephen. [Irritably.] Yes, but what is my father’s Christian name?
Mrs. Williams. [Meditatively.] I cannot at the present moment recall what the General’s Christian name is.
Stephen. Jack! Can you not recollect what our father’s Christian name is?
Jack. My dear Stephen, I’ve always simply called him The General. Or father. Or papa.
Stephen. His name would appear in the Army Lists of the period, I suppose. [Rushes to bookcase and tears the books out.] A. Generals... Abernathy, Addison, Algernon - what ghastly names they have - Allen, Anderson, Aubrey! Lieutenant 1740, Captain, Lieutenant-Colonel, Colonel, General 1769, Christian names, Stephen Esteban. [Puts book very quietly down and speaks quite calmly.] I always told you, Diana, my name was Stephen, did I not? Well, it is Stephen after all. I mean it naturally is Stephen. AND Esteban.
Diana. Stephen! My own Stephen! I felt from the first that you could have no other name! Or at least, not in English!
Stephen. Diana, it is a most shocking thing for a man involved in intelligence to find out suddenly that all his life he has been speaking nothing but the truth. Can you forgive me?
Diana. I can. For I feel that you are sure to change.
Stephen. My honey plum!
Lord Keith. [To Queeney.] Hester! [Embraces her]
Queeney. [Enthusiastically.] George! At last!
Jack. Sophie! [Embraces her.] At last!
Stephen. Diana! [Embraces her.] At last!
Mrs. Williams. My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality.
Stephen. On the contrary, Aunt Williams, I’ve now realised for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Esteban Maturin y Domanova - AND just plain Stephen.
The End
Act 1
Act 2
Act III
Morning-room at the castle.
[Diana and Sophie are at the window, looking out into the garden.]
Diana. They’re looking at us. What effrontery!
Sophie. They’re approaching. That’s very forward of them.
Diana. Let us preserve a dignified silence.
Sophie. Certainly. It’s the only thing to do now. [Enter Stephen followed by Jack. Stephen whistles and Jack hums some dreadful popular air from an Italian opera. Stephen begins to sing in a creaking voice.]
Diana. This dignified silence seems to produce an unpleasant effect.
Sophie. A most distasteful one.
Diana. But we will not be the first to speak.
Sophie. Certainly not.
Diana. Dr. Maturin, I have something very particular to ask you. Much depends on your reply.
Sophie. Diana, your common sense is invaluable. Captain Aubrey, kindly answer me the following question. Why did you pretend to be my guardian’s brother?
Jack. In order that I might have an opportunity of meeting you.
Sophie. [To Diana.] That certainly seems a satisfactory explanation, does it not?
Diana. Yes, dear, if you can believe him.
Sophie. I don’t. But that does not affect the wonderful beauty of his answer.
Diana. True. In matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity is the vital thing. Dr. Maturin, what explanation can you offer to me for pretending to have a brother? Was it in order that you might have an opportunity of coming up to England to see me as often as possible?
Stephen. Just so, Mrs. Villiers.
Diana. I have the gravest doubts upon the truth of your answer, but I have always held a truth of my own sort. [Moving to Sophie.] Their explanations appear to be quite satisfactory, especially Dr. Maturin’s.
Sophie. I am more than content with what Captain Aubrey said. His booming voice alone inspires one with absolute credulity.
Diana. Then you think we should forgive them?
Sophie. Yes. I mean no.
Diana. True! I had forgotten. There are principles at stake that one cannot surrender. Which of us should tell them? The task is not a pleasant one.
Sophie. Could we not both speak at the same time?
Diana. Don’t be such a child, Sophie. Just tell them.
Sophie Your Christian names are still an insuperable barrier. That is all!
Jack Our Christian names! Is that all? But we are going to be christened this afternoon.
Stephen [Nods soberly]
Diana. [To Stephen.] For my sake you are prepared to do this terrible thing?
Stephen. I am.
Sophie. [To Jack.] To please me you are ready to face this fearful ordeal?
Jack. I am!
Diana. How absurd to talk of the equality of the sexes! Where questions of self-sacrifice are concerned, men are infinitely beyond us.
Jack. We are! [Attempts to clasp hands with Stephen, who pulls away.]
Sophie. They have moments of physical courage of which we women know absolutely nothing.
Diana. [To Stephen.] Darling!
Jack. [To Sophie.] Darling! [They fall into each other’s arms.]
[Enter Bonden. When he enters he coughs loudly, seeing the situation.]
Bonden. Ahem! Ahem! Mrs. Williams!
Stephen. Good heavens!
[Enter Mrs. Williams. The couples separate in alarm. Exit Bonden.]
Mrs. Williams. Diana! What does this mean?
Diana. Merely that I am engaged to be married to Dr. Maturin, Aunt.
Mrs. Williams. Come here, Diana. Sit down. Sit down immediately. [Turns to Stephen.] Apprised, sir, of my niece’s sudden flight by her mad elderly cousin, whose confidence I purchased by means of a small teapot, I followed her at once in a passing privateer. Of course, you will clearly understand that all communication between yourself and my niece must cease immediately from this moment. On this point, as indeed on all points, I am firm.
Stephen. I am engaged to be married to Diana, Mrs. Williams.
Mrs. Williams. You are nothing of the kind, sir. And now, as regards Jack... Jack!
Jack. Yes, Aunt Williams.
Mrs. Williams. May I ask if it is in this house that your invalid friend Captain Melbury resides?
Jack. [Stammering.] Oh! No! Melbury doesn’t live here. Melbury is somewhere else at present. In fact, Melbury is dead,
Mrs. Williams. Dead! When did Captain Melbury die? His death must have been extremely sudden.
Jack. [Airily.] Oh! I killed Melbury this afternoon. I mean poor Melbury died this afternoon.
Mrs. Williams. What did he die of?
Jack. Melbury? Oh, he was quite exploded.
Mrs. Williams. Exploded! Was he the victim of French outrage? I was not aware that the royal navy was such a dangerous career.
Jack. My dear Aunt Williams, I mean he was found out! The doctors found out that Melbury could not live, that is what I mean - so Melbury died.
Mrs. Williams. He seems to have had great confidence in the opinion of his physicians. And now that we have finally got rid of this Mr. Melbury, may I ask, Dr. Maturin, who is that young person whose hand my nephew Jack is now holding in what seems to me a peculiarly unnecessary manner?
Stephen. That lady is Miss Sophia, my ward. [Mrs. Williams bows coldly to Sophie.]
Jack. I am engaged to be married to Sophie, Aunt Williams.
Mrs. Williams. I beg your pardon?
Sophie. Captain Aubrey and I are engaged to be married, Mrs. Williams.
Mrs. Williams. [With a shiver, crossing to the sofa and sitting down.] I do not know whether there is anything peculiarly exciting in the thin air of this particular altitude of Spain, but the number of engagements that go on seems to me considerably above average. Dr. Maturin, is Miss Sophia at all connected with any of the waterside coffee houses of Spain? I merely desire information. [Stephen looks perfectly furious, but restrains himself.]
Stephen. [In a clear, cold voice.] Miss Sophia is the grand-daughter of the late Señor Maturin, my adopted father. Her family solicitors are Messrs. Scriven, Scriven, and Scriven.
Mrs. Williams. Scriven, Scriven, and Scriven? A firm of the very highest position in their profession. Indeed I am told that one of the Mr. Scrivens is occasionally to be seen at dinner parties. So far I am satisfied.
Stephen. [Very irritably.] How extremely kind of you, Mrs. Williams.
Mrs. Williams. [Rises, looks at her watch.] Diana! the time approaches for our departure. We have not a moment to lose. As a matter of form, Dr. Maturin, I had better ask you if Miss Sophia has any little fortune?
Stephen. Oh! about ten thousand pounds. That is all. Goodbye, Mrs. Williams. So pleased to have seen you.
Mrs. Williams. [Sitting down again.] A moment, Dr. Maturin. Ten thousand pounds! Miss Sophia seems to me a most attractive young lady, now that I look at her. [To Sophie.] Dear child, of course you know that Captain Aubrey has nothing but his debts to depend upon. But I do not approve of mercenary marriages. When I married Mr. Williams I had no fortune of any kind. But I never dreamed for a moment of allowing that to stand in my way. Well, I suppose I must give my consent.
Jack. Thank you, Aunt Williams.
Mrs. Williams. Sophie, you may kiss me!
Sophie. [Kisses her.] Thank you, Mrs. Williams.
Stephen. I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Mrs. Williams, but this engagement is quite out of the question. I am Miss Sophia’s guardian, and she cannot marry without my consent until she comes of age. That consent I absolutely decline to give.
Mrs. Williams. Upon what grounds may I ask? Jack is an extremely, I may almost say an ostentatiously, eligible young man. He has nothing, but he looks everything, with his gold lace and his epaulettes and his fine ships. What more can one desire?
Stephen. It pains me very much to have to speak frankly to you, Mrs. Williams, about your nephew, but the fact is that I do not approve at all of his moral character. I suspect him of being untruthful. [Jack and Sophie look at him in indignant amazement.]
Mrs. Williams. Untruthful! My nephew Jack? Impossible! He is a naval captain.
Stephen. I fear there can be no possible doubt about the matter. This afternoon during my temporary absence on an important question of international secrecy, he obtained admission to my house by means of the false pretence of being my brother. Under an assumed name he drank an entire cask of double-refined spirits that I was specially reserving for my squid collection. He also criticized my wig and frightened my marsupials. Therefore, I decline to give my consent.
Mrs. Williams. Dr. Maturin, I would beg of you to reconsider your decision.
Stephen. But my dear Mrs. Williams, the matter is entirely in your own hands. The moment you consent to my marriage with Diana, I will most gladly allow your nephew to form an alliance with my ward.
Mrs. Williams. [Rising and drawing herself up.] You must be quite aware that what you propose is out of the question.
Stephen. Then a passionate celibacy is all that any of us can look forward to, with the aid of laudanum.
Mrs. Williams. That is not the destiny I propose for Diana. Jack, of course, can choose for himself. [Pulls out her watch.] Come, dear, [Diana rises] we have already missed five, if not six, ships. To miss any more might expose us to comment on the dock.
[Enter Lord Keith.]
Lord Keith. Everything is quite ready for the christenings.
Mrs. Williams. The christenings, sir! Is not that somewhat premature?
Lord Keith. [Looking rather puzzled, and pointing to Stephen and Jack.] Both these gentlemen have expressed a desire for immediate baptism.
Mrs. Williams. At their age? The idea is grotesque and irreligious! Jack, I forbid you to be baptized. General Aubrey would be highly displeased if he learned that that was the way in which you wasted your time and money.
Lord Keith. Am I to understand then that there are to he no christenings at all this afternoon?
Stephen. I do not think that, as things are now, it would be of much practical value to either of us, Lord Keith.
Lord Keith. I am grieved to hear such sentiments from you, Dr. Maturin. However, as your present mood seems to be one peculiarly secular, I will return to the ship at once. Indeed, I have just been informed by my coxswain that for the last hour and a half Queeney has been waiting for me at the dock.
Mrs. Williams. [Starting.] Queeney! Did I hear you mention a Queeney?
Lord Keith. Yes, Mrs. Williams. I am on my way to join her.
Mrs. Williams. Pray allow me to detain you for a moment. This matter may prove to be one of vital importance to General Aubrey and myself. Is this Queeney a female of repellent aspect, remotely connected with education?
Lord Keith. [Somewhat indignantly.] She is the most cultivated of ladies, and the very picture of respectability.
Mrs. Williams. It is obviously the same person. May I ask what position she holds in your household?
Lord Keith. [Severely.] I am a celibate, madam.
Stephen. [Interposing.] Queeney, Mrs. Williams, has been for the last three years Miss Sophia’s esteemed governess and valued companion.
Mrs. Williams. In spite of what I hear of her, I must see her at once. Let her be sent for.
Lord Keith. [Looking off.] She approaches; she is nigh.
[Enter Queeney hurriedly.]
Queeney. I was told you expected me at the dock, dear Admiral. I have been waiting for you there for an hour and three-quarters. [Catches sight of Mrs. Williams, who has fixed her with a stony glare. Queeney grows pale and quails. She looks anxiously round as if desirous to escape.]
Mrs. Williams. [In a severe, judicial voice.] Queeney! [Queeney bows her head in shame.] Come here, Queeney! [Queeney approaches in a humble manner.] Queeney! Where is that baby? [General consternation. The Admiral starts back in horror. Jack pretends to be anxious to shield Sophie from hearing the details of a terrible public scandal. Diana listens eagerly. Stephen is bored.] Thirty-odd years ago, Queeney, you left Mr. William’s house in charge of a basket that contained a baby of the male sex. You never returned. A few weeks later, through the elaborate investigations of the Metropolitan police, the basket was discovered at midnight, standing by itself in a remote corner of Ireland. It contained the manuscript of a three-volume ancient Greek history of more than usually revolting sentimentality. [Queeney starts in involuntary indignation.] But the baby was not there! [Every one looks at Queeney.] Queeney! Where is that baby? [A pause.]
Queeney. Mrs. Williams, I admit with shame that I do not know. I only wish I did. On the morning of the day you mention, I prepared as usual to take the baby out in its basket. I had also with me a somewhat old, but capacious reticule in which I had intended to place the manuscript of a work of historical study that I had written during my few unoccupied hours. In a moment of mental abstraction, for which I never can forgive myself, I deposited the manuscript in the basket, and placed the baby in the reticule.
Stephen. [Who has now been listening attentively.] But where did you deposit the reticule?
Queeney. I left it in a coffee house in Mahon.
Stephen. What coffee house?
Queeney. [Quite crushed.] Joselito’s. Near the waterside. [Sinks into a chair.]
Stephen. I must retire to my room for a moment. Diana, wait here for me.
Diana. If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life. [Looks out the window for other possible suitors. Exit Stephen in great excitement.]
Lord Keith. What do you think this means?
Diana. This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last. [Enter Stephen with a reticule of black silk in his hand.]
Stephen. [Rushing over to Queeney.] Is this the reticule, Queeney? Examine it carefully before you speak. The happiness of more than one life depends on your answer.
Queeney. [Calmly.] It seems to be mine. Yes, here is the injury it received through the upsetting of a Seine coach in younger and happier days. And here, on the lock, are my initials. The bag is undoubtedly mine. I am delighted to have it so unexpectedly restored to me.
Stephen. [In a creaky voice.] Queeney, more is restored to you than this reticule. I was the baby you placed in it.
Queeney. [Amazed.] You?
Stephen. [Embracing her.] Yes... mother!
Queeney. [Recoiling in indignant astonishment.] Dr. Maturin! I am unmarried.
Stephen. Unmarried. I do not deny I have always suspected as much. I have long been resolved to my state of bastardy. Mother, I forgive you. [Tries to embrace her again.]
Queeney. [Still more indignant.] Dr. Maturin, there is some error. [Pointing to Mrs. Williams.] There is the lady who can tell you who you really are.
Stephen. [After a pause.] Mrs. Williams, I apologize if I seem inquisitive, but would you kindly inform me who I am?
Mrs. Williams. I am afraid that the news I have to give you will not altogether please you. You are the son of my poor sister, the first Mrs. Aubrey, and consequently Jack’s brother.
Stephen. Jack’s brother! Then I have a brother after all. And I am not a bastard! Jack, you scrub, you will have to treat me with more respect in the future. You have never behaved to me like a brother in all your life.
Jack. Well, not till today, my plum, I admit. I did my best, however, though I was out of practice.
[Shakes hands.]
Diana. [To Stephen.] My own! But what own are you? What is your Christian name, now that you have become some one else?
Stephen. Just so. I had quite forgotten that point. Your decision on the subject of my name is irrevocable, I suppose?
Diana. I never change, except in my affections.
Stephen. Then the question had better be cleared up at once. Aunt Williams, a moment. At the time when Queeney left me in the reticule, had I been christened already?
Mrs. Williams. Every luxury that money could buy, including christening, had been lavished on you by your fond and doting parents.
Stephen. Then I was christened! That is settled. Now, what name was I given?
Mrs. Williams. You were christened after your father.
Stephen. [Irritably.] Yes, but what is my father’s Christian name?
Mrs. Williams. [Meditatively.] I cannot at the present moment recall what the General’s Christian name is.
Stephen. Jack! Can you not recollect what our father’s Christian name is?
Jack. My dear Stephen, I’ve always simply called him The General. Or father. Or papa.
Stephen. His name would appear in the Army Lists of the period, I suppose. [Rushes to bookcase and tears the books out.] A. Generals... Abernathy, Addison, Algernon - what ghastly names they have - Allen, Anderson, Aubrey! Lieutenant 1740, Captain, Lieutenant-Colonel, Colonel, General 1769, Christian names, Stephen Esteban. [Puts book very quietly down and speaks quite calmly.] I always told you, Diana, my name was Stephen, did I not? Well, it is Stephen after all. I mean it naturally is Stephen. AND Esteban.
Diana. Stephen! My own Stephen! I felt from the first that you could have no other name! Or at least, not in English!
Stephen. Diana, it is a most shocking thing for a man involved in intelligence to find out suddenly that all his life he has been speaking nothing but the truth. Can you forgive me?
Diana. I can. For I feel that you are sure to change.
Stephen. My honey plum!
Lord Keith. [To Queeney.] Hester! [Embraces her]
Queeney. [Enthusiastically.] George! At last!
Jack. Sophie! [Embraces her.] At last!
Stephen. Diana! [Embraces her.] At last!
Mrs. Williams. My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality.
Stephen. On the contrary, Aunt Williams, I’ve now realised for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Esteban Maturin y Domanova - AND just plain Stephen.
The End
Act 1
Act 2