Man and Superman - George Bernard Shaw (read an ebook week txt) 📗

She gets her own way always. Octavius Sighing. So do you. Ann Yes; but somehow she gets it without coaxing⁠—without having to make people sentimental about her. Octavius With brotherly callousness. Nobody could get very sentimental about Violet, I think, pretty as she is. Ann Oh yes they could, if she made them. Octavius But surely no really nice woman would deliberately practise on men’s instincts in that way. Ann Throwing up her hands. Oh Tavy, Tavy, Ricky Ticky Tavy, heaven help the woman who marries you! Octavius His passion reviving at the name. Oh why, why, why do you say that? Don’t torment me. I don’t understand. Ann Suppose she were to tell fibs, and lay snares for men? Octavius Do you think I could marry such a woman⁠—I, who have known and loved you? Ann Hm! Well, at all events, she wouldn’t let you if she were wise. So that’s settled. And now I can’t talk any more. Say you forgive me, and that the subject is closed. Octavius I have nothing to forgive; and the subject is closed. And if the wound is open, at least you shall never see it bleed. Ann Poetic to the last, Tavy. Goodbye, dear. She pats his check; has an impulse to kiss him and then another impulse of distaste which prevents her; finally runs away through the garden and into the villa. Octavius again takes refuge at the table, bowing his head on his arms and sobbing softly. Mrs. Whitefield, who has been pottering round the Granada shops, and has a net full of little parcels in her hand, comes in through the gate and sees him. Mrs. Whitefield Running to him and lifting his head. What’s the matter, Tavy? Are you ill? Octavius No, nothing, nothing. Mrs. Whitefield Still holding his head, anxiously. But you’re crying. Is it about Violet’s marriage? Octavius No, no. Who told you about Violet? Mrs. Whitefield Restoring the head to its owner. I met Roebuck and that awful old Irishman. Are you sure you’re not ill? What’s the matter? Octavius Affectionately. It’s nothing⁠—only a man’s broken heart. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? Mrs. Whitefield But what is it all about? Has Ann been doing anything to you? Octavius It’s not Ann’s fault. And don’t think for a moment that I blame you. Mrs. Whitefield Startled. For what? Octavius Pressing her hand consolingly. For nothing. I said I didn’t blame you. Mrs. Whitefield But I haven’t done anything. What’s the matter? Octavius Smiling sadly. Can’t you guess? I daresay you are right to prefer Jack to me as a husband for Ann; but I love Ann; and it hurts rather. He rises and moves away from her towards the middle of the lawn. Mrs. Whitefield Following him hastily. Does Ann say that I want her to marry Jack? Octavius Yes: she has told me. Mrs. Whitefield Thoughtfully. Then I’m very sorry for you, Tavy. It’s only her way of saying she wants to marry Jack. Little she cares what I say or what I want! Octavius But she would not say it unless she believed it. Surely you don’t suspect Ann of⁠—of deceit!! Mrs. Whitefield Well, never mind, Tavy. I don’t know which is best for a young man: to know too little, like you, or too much, like Jack. Tanner returns. Tanner Well, I’ve disposed of old Malone. I’ve introduced him to Mendoza, Limited; and left the two brigands together to talk it out. Hullo, Tavy! Anything wrong? Octavius I must go wash my face, I see. To Mrs. Whitefield. Tell him what you wish. To Tanner. You may take it from me, Jack, that Ann approves of it. Tanner Puzzled by his manner. Approves of what? Octavius Of what Mrs. Whitefield wishes. He goes his way with sad dignity to the villa. Tanner To Mrs. Whitefield. This is very mysterious. What is it you wish? It shall be done, whatever it is. Mrs. Whitefield With snivelling gratitude. Thank you, Jack. She sits down. Tanner brings the other chair from the table and sits close to her with his elbows on his knees, giving her his whole attention. I don’t know why it is that other people’s children are so nice to me, and that my own have so little consideration for me. It’s no wonder I don’t seem able to care for Ann and Rhoda as I do for you and Tavy and Violet. It’s a very queer world. It used to be so straightforward and simple; and now nobody seems to think and feel as they ought. Nothing has been right since that speech that Professor Tyndall made at Belfast. Tanner Yes: life is more complicated than we used to think. But what am I to do for you? Mrs. Whitefield That’s just what I want to tell you. Of course you’ll marry Ann whether I like it myself or not⁠— Tanner Starting. It seems to me that I shall presently be married to Ann whether I like it myself or not. Mrs. Whitefield Peacefully. Oh, very likely you will: you know what she is when she has set her mind on anything. But don’t put it on me: that’s all I ask. Tavy has just let out that she’s been saying that I am making her marry you; and the poor boy is breaking his heart about it; for he is in love with her himself, though what he sees in her so wonderful, goodness knows: I don’t. It’s no use telling Tavy that Ann puts things into people’s heads by telling them that I want them when the thought of them never crossed my mind. It only sets Tavy against me. But you know better than that. So if you marry her, don’t put the blame on me. Tanner Emphatically. I haven’t the slightest intention of marrying her. Mrs. Whitefield Slyly. She’d suit you better than Tavy. She’d meet her match in you, Jack. I’d like to see her meet her match. Tanner No man is a match for a woman, except with a poker and a pair of hobnailed boots. Not always even then. Anyhow, I can’t