William Somerset Maugham 5 страница

four years, been earning so much more money than he that she had

offered to furnish the house herself. They stood ne of the bedrooms.

" I can make do with a good deal of what we've got for my bedro-

om, " she said. " I'll get you a nice suite at Maple's. "

" I wouldn't go to much expense, " he smiled. " I don't suppose I

shall use it much, you know. "

He liked to share a bed with her. Though not passionate he was

affectionate, and he had an animal desire to feel her body against

his. For long it had been her greatest comfort. The thought now fil-

led her with irritation.

" Oh, I don't think there should be any more nonsense till after the

baby's born. Until all that's over and done with I'm going to make

you sleep by yourself. "

" I hadn't thought of that. If you think it's better for the kid... "

MICHAEL got himself demobbed the moment the war was finished

and stepped straight into a part. He returned to the stage a much

better actor than he left it. The breeziness he had acquired in the

army was effective. He was a well set-up, normal, high-spirited fel-

low, with a ready smile and a hearty laugh. He was well suited to

drawing-room comedy. His light voice gave a peculiar effect to a

flippant line, and though he never managed to make love convin-

cingly he could carry off a chaffing love scene, making a proposal as

if it were rather a joke, or a declaration as though he were laughing

at himself, in a manner that the audience found engaging. He never

attempted to play anyone but himself. He specialized in men about

town, gentlemanly gamblers, guardsmen and young scamps with a

good side to them.

Managers liked him. He worked hard and was amenable to directi-

on. So long as he could get work he didn't mind much what sort of

part it was. He stuck out for the salary he thought he was worth, but

if he couldn't get it was prepared to take less rather than be idle.

He was making his plans carefully. During the winter that followed

the end of the war there was an epidemic of influenza. His father

and mother died. He inherited nearly four thousand pounds, and this

with his own savings and Julia's brought up their joint capital to se-

ven thousand. But the rent of theatres had gone up enormously, the

salaries of actors and the wages of stagehands had increased, so

that the expense of running a theatre was very much greater than it

had been before the war. A sum that would then have been amply

sufficient to start management on was now inadequate. The only

thing was to find some rich man to go in with them so that a failure

or two to begin with would not drive them from the field. It was said

that you could always find a mug in the city to write a fat cheque for

the production of a play, but when you came down to business you

discovered that the main condition was that the leading part should

be played by some pretty lady in whom he was interested. Years be-

fore, Michael and Julia had often joked about the rich old woman

who would fall in love with him and set him up in management. He

had long since learnt that no rich old woman was to be found to set

up in management a young actor whose wife was an actress to

whom he was perfectly faithful. In the end the money was found by

a rich woman, and not an old one either, but who was interested not

in him but in Julia.

Mrs. de Vries was a widow. She was a short stout woman with a fi-

ne Jewish nose and fine Jewish eyes, a great deal of energy, a man-

ner at once effusive and timid, and a somewhat virile air. She had a

passion for the stage. When Julia and Michael had decided to try

their luck in London Jimmie Langton, to whose rescue she had some-

times come when it looked as though he would be forced to close

his repertory theatre, had written to her asking her to do what she

could for them. She had seen Julia act in Middlepool. She gave parti-

es so that the young actors might get to know managers, and asked

them to stay at her grand house near Guildford, where they enjoyed

a luxury they had never dreamt of. She did not much like Michael.

Julia accepted the flowers with which Dolly de Vries filled her flat

and her dressing-room, she was properly delighted with the pre-

sents she gave her, bags, vanity cases, strings of beads in semipre-

cious stones, brooches; but appeared to be unconscious that Dolly's

generosity was due to anything but admiration for her talent. When

Michael went away to the war Dolly pressed her to come and live in

her house in Montagu Square, but Julia, with protestations of extra-

vagant gratitude, refused in such a way that Dolly, with a sigh and a

tear, could only admire her the more. When Roger was born Julia as-

ked her to be his godmother.

For some time Michael had been turning over in his mind the pos-

sibility that Dolly de Vries might put up the money they needed, but

he was shrewd enough to know that while she might do it for Julia

she would not do it for him. Julia refused to approach her.

" She's already been so kind to us I really couldn't ask her, and it

would be so humiliating if she refused. "

" It's a good gamble, and even if she lost the money she wouldn't

feel it. I'm quite sure you could get round her if you tried. "

Julia was pretty sure she could too. Michael was very simple-min-

ded in some ways; she did not feel called upon to point out to him

the obvious facts.

But he was not a man who let a thing drop when he had set his

mind to it. They were going to Guildford to spend the week-end with

Dol ly, and were driving down after the Saturday night's performan-

ce in the new car that Julia had given Michael for his birthday. It was

a warm beautiful night. Michael had bought options, though it wrung

his heart to write the cheques, on three plays that they both liked,

and he had heard of a theatre that they could get on reasonable

terms. Everything was ready for the venture except the capital. He

urged Julia to seize the opportunity that the week-end presented.

" Ask her yourself then, " said Julia impatiently. " I tell you, I'm not

going to. "

" She wouldn't do it for me. You can twist her round your little fin-

ger. "

" We know a thing or two about financing plays now. People finan-

ce plays for two reasons, either because they want notoriety, * or be-

cause they're in love with someone. A lot of people talk about art,

but you don't often find them paying out hard cash unless they're

going to get something out of it for themselves. "

" Well, we'll give Dolly all the notoriety she wants. "

" That doesn't happen to be what she's after. "

" What do you mean? "

" Can't you guess? "

Light dawned on him, and he was so surprised that he slowed

down. Was it possible that what Julia suspected was true? He had

never even thought that Dolly liked him much, and as for supposing

she was in love with him - why, the notion had never crossed his

mind. Of course Julia had sharp eyes, not much got by her, but she

was a jealous little thing, she was always thinking women were ma-

king a dead set at him. It was true that Dolly had given him a pair of

cufflinks at Christmas, but he thought that was only so that he sho-

uldn't feel left out in the cold because she had given Julia a brooch

that must have cost at least two hundred pounds. That might be

only her cunning. Well, he could honestly say he'd never done a

thing to make her think there was anything doing. Julia giggled.

" No, darling, it's not you she's in love with. "

It was disconcerting the way Julia knew what he was thinking. You

couldn't hide a thing from that woman.

" Then why did you put the idea into my head? I wish to goodness

you'd express yourself so that a fellow can understand. "

Julia did.

" I never heard such nonsense, " he cried. " What a filthy mind

you've got, Julia! "

" Come off it, dear. "

" I don't believe there's a word of truth in it. After all I've got eyes

in my head. Do you mean to say I shouldn't have noticed it? " He was

more irritable than she had ever known him. " And even if it were

true I suppose you can take care of yourself. It's a chance in a tho-

usand, and I think it would be madness not to take it. "

" Claudio and Isabella in Measure for Measurer

" That's a rotten thing to say, Julia. God damn it, I am a gentle-

man. "

" Nemo me impune lacessit. " *

They drove the rest of the journey in stormy silence. Mrs. de Vries

was waiting up for them.

" I didn't want to go to bed till I'd seen you, " she said as she folded

Julia in her arms and kissed her on both cheeks. She gave Michael a

brisk handshake.

Julia spent a happy morning in bed reading the Sunday papers.

She read first the theatrical news, then the gossip columns, after

that the woman's pages, and finally cast an eye over the headlines

of the world's news. The book reviews she ignored; she could never

understand why so much space was wasted on them. Michael, who

had the room next hers, had come in to say good morning, and then

gone out into the garden. Presently there was a timid little knock at

her door and Dolly came in. Her great black eyes were shining. She

sat on the bed and took Julia's hand.

" Darling, I've been talking to Michael. I'm going to put up the mo-

ney to start you in management. "

Julia's heart gave a sudden beat.

" Oh, you mustn't. Michael shouldn't have asked you. I won't have

it. You've been far, far too kind to us already. "

Dolly leant over and kissed Julia on the lips. Her voice was lower

than usual and there was a little tremor in it.

" Oh, my love, don't you know there isn't anything in the world I

wouldn't do for you? It'll be so wonderful; it'll bring us so close toget-

her and I shall be so proud of you. "

They heard Michael come whistling along the passage, and when

he came into the room Dolly turned to him with her great eyes misty

with tears.

" I've just told her. "

He was brimming over with excitement.

" What a grand woman! " He sat down on the other side of the bed

and took Julia's disengaged hand. " What d'you say, Julia? "

She gave him a little reflective look.

" Vous l'avez voulu, Georges Dandin. " *

" What's that? "

" Moliere. "

As soon as the deed of partnership had been signed and Michael

had got his theatre booked for the autumn he engaged a publicity

agent. Paragraphs were sent to the papers announcing the new ven-

ture and Michael and the publicity agent prepared interviews for him

and Julia to give to the Press. Photographs of them, singly and toget-

her, with and without Roger, appeared in the weeklies. The domestic

note was worked for all it was worth. They could not quite make up

their minds which of the three plays they had it would be best to

start with. Then one afternoon when Julia was sitting in her bedroom

reading a novel, Michael came in with a manuscript in his hand.

" Look here, I want you to read this play at once. It's just come in

from an agent. I think it's a knockout. Only we've got to give an ans-

wer right away. "

Julia put down her novel.

" I'll read it now. "

" I shall be downstairs. Let me know when you've finished and I'll

come up and talk it over with you. It's got a wonderful part for you. "

Julia read quickly, skimming over the scenes in which she was not

concerned, but the principal woman's part, the part of course she

would play, with concentration. When she had turned the last page

she rang the bell and asked her maid (who was also her dresser) to

tell Michael she was ready for him.

" Well, what d'you think? "

" The play's all right. I don't see how it can fail to be a success. "

He caught something doubtful in her tone.

" What's wrong then? The part's wonderful. I mean, it's the sort of

thing that you can do better than anyone in the world. There's a lot

of comedy and all the emotion you want. "

" It's a wonderful part, I know that; it's the man's part. "

" Well, that's a damned good part too. "

" I know; but he's fifty, and if you make him younger you take all

the point out of the play. You don't want to take the part of a mid-

dle-aged man. "

" But I wasn't thinking of playing that. There's only one man for

that. Monte Vernon. And we can get him. I'll play George. "

" But it's a tiny part. You can't play that. "

" Why not? "

" But I thought the point of going into management was that we

should both play leads. "

" Oh, I don't care a hang about that. As long as we can find plays

with star parts for you I don't matter. Perhaps in the next play the-

re'll be a good part for me too. "

Julia leant back in her chair, and the ready tears filled her eyes

and ran down her cheeks.

" Oh, what a beast I am. "

He smiled, and his smile was as charming as ever. He came over

to her and kneeling by her side put his arms round her.

" Lor lumme, * what's the matter with the old lady now? "

When she looked at him now she wondered what there was in him

that had ever aroused in her such a frenzy of passion. The thought

of having sexual relations with him nauseated her. Fortunately he

found himself very comfortable in the bedroom she had furnish for

him. He was not a man to whom sex was important, and he was reli-

eved when he discovered that Julia no longer made any demands on

him. He thought with satisfaction that the birth of the baby had cal-

med her down, he was bound to say that he had thought it might,

and he was only sorry they had not had one before. When he had

two or three times, more out of amiability than out of desire, sug-

gested that they should resume marital relations and she had made

excuses, either that she was tired, not very well, or had two perfor-

mances next day, to say nothing of a fitting in the morning, he ac-

cepted the situation with equanimity. Julia was much easier to get

on with, she never made scenes any more, and he was happier than

he had ever been before. It was a damned satisfactory marriage he

had made, and when he looked at other people's marriages he co-

uldn't help seeing he was one of the lucky ones. Julia was a damned

good sort and clever, as clever as a bagful* of monkeys; you could

talk to her about anything in the world. The best companion a chap

ever had, my boy. He didn't mind saying this, he'd rather spend a

day alone with her than play a round of golf.

Julia was surprised to discover in herself a strange feeling of pity

for him because she no longer loved him. She was a kindly woman,

and she realized that it would be a bitter blow to his pride if he ever

had an inkling how little he meant to her. She continued to flatter

him. She noticed that for long now he had come to listen compla-

cently to her praise of his exquisite nose and beautiful eyes. She got

a little private amusement by seeing how much he could swallow.

She laid it on with a trowel. * But now she looked more often at his

straight thin-lipped mouth. It grew meaner as he grew older, and by

the time he was an old man it would be no more than a cold hard li-

ne. His thrift, which in the early days had seemed an amusing, rat-

her touching trait, now revolted her. When people were in trouble,

and on the stage they too often are, they got sympathy and kind fri-

endly words from Michael, but very little cash. He looked upon him-

self as devilish generous when he parted with a guinea, and a five-

pound note was to him the extreme of lavishness. He had soon dis-

covered that Julia ran the house extravagantly, and insisting that he

wanted to save her trouble took the matter in his own hands. After

that nothing was wasted. Every penny was accounted for. Julia won-

dered why servants stayed with them. They did because Michael

was so nice to them. With his hearty, jolly, affable manner he made

therrt anxious to please him, and the cook shared his satisfaction

when she had found a butcher from whom they could get meat a

penny a pound cheaper than elsewhere. Julia could not but laugh

when she thought how strangely his passion for economy contrasted

with the devil-may-care, extravagant creatures he portrayed so well

on the stage. She had often thought that he was incapable of a ge-

nerous impulse, and now, as though it were the most natural thing

in the world, he was prepared to stand aside so that she might have

her chance. She was too deeply moved to speak. She reproached

herself bitterly for all the unkind things she had for so long been

thinking of him.

THEY put on the play, and it was a success. After that they conti-

nued to produce plays year after year. Because Michael ran the the-

atre with the method and thrift with which he ran his home they lost

little over the failures, which of course they sometimes had, and ma-

de every possible penny out of their successes. Michael flattered

himself that there was not a management in London where less mo-

ney was spent on the productions. He exercised great ingenuity in

disguising old sets so that they looked new, and by ringing the chan-

ges on the furniture that he gradually collected in the store-room sa-

ved the expense of hiring. They gained the reputation of being an

enterprising management because Michael in order not to pay the

high royalties of well-known authors was always willing to give an

unknown one a trial. He sought out actors who had never been gi-

ven a chance and whose salaries were small. He thus made some

very profitable discoveries.

When they had been in management for three years they were

sufficiently well established for Michael to be able to borrow from

the bank enough money to buy the lease of a theatre that had just

been built. After much discussion they decided to call it the Siddons

Theatre. They opened with a failure and this was succeeded by

another. Julia was frightened and discouraged. She thought that the

theatre was unlucky and that the public were getting sick of her. It

was then that Michael showed himself at his best. He was unpertur-

bed.

" In this business you have to take the rough with the smooth.

You're the best actress in England. There are only three people who

bring money into the theatre regardless of the play, and you're one

of them. We've had a couple of duds. * The next play's bound to be

all right and then we shall get back all we've lost and a packet into

the bargain. " *

As soon as Michael had felt himself safe he had tried to buy Dolly

de Vries out, but she would not listen to his persuasion and was in-

different to his coldness. For once his cunning found its match. Dolly

saw no reason to sell out an investment that seemed sound, and her

half share in the partnership kept her in close touch with Julia. But

now with great courage he made another effort to get rid of her.

Dolly indignantly refused to desert them when they were in difficulti-

es, and he-gave it up as a bad job. He consoled himself by thinking

that Dolly might leave Roger, her godson, a great deal of money.

She had no one belonging to her but nephews in South Africa, and

you could not look at her without suspecting that she had a high blo-

od pressure. Meanwhile it was convenient to have the house near

Guildford to go to whenever they wished. It saved the expense of

having a country house of their own. The third play was a winner,

and Michael did not hesitate to point out how right he had been. He

spoke as though he was directly responsible for its success. Julia co-

uld almost have wished that it had failed like the others in order to

take him down a peg or two. * For his conceit was outrageous. Of co-

urse you had to admit that he had a sort of cleverness, shrewdness

rather, but he was not nearly so clever as he thought himself. There

was nothing in which he did not think that he knew better than any-

body else.

As time went on he began to act less frequently. He found himself

much more interested in management.

" I want to run my theatre in as business-like way as a city office, "

he said.

And he felt that he could more profitably spend his evenings,

when Julia was acting, by going to outlying theatres and trying to

find talent. He kept a little book in which he made a note of every

actor who seemed to show promise. Then he had taken to directing.

It had always grizzled him that directors should ask so much money

for rehearsing a play, and of late some of them had even insisted on

a percentage on the gross. At last an occasion came when the two

directors Julia liked best were engaged and the only other one she

trusted was acting and thus could not give them all his time.

" I've got a good mind to have a shot at it myself, " said Michael.

Julia was doubtful. He had no fantasy and his ideas were com-

monplace. She was not sure that he would have authority over the

cast. But the only available director demanded a fee that they both

thought exorbitant and there was nothing left but to let Michael try.

He made a much better job of it than Julia expected. He was thoro-

ugh; he worked hard. Julia, strangely enough, felt that he was get-

ting more out of her than any other director had done. He knew

what she was capable of, and, familiar with her every inflection,

every glance of her wonderful eyes, every graceful movement of her

body, he was able to give her suggestions out of which she mana-

ged to build up the best performance of her career. With the cast he

was at once conciliatory and exacting. When tempers were frayed

his good humour, his real kindliness, smoothed things over. After

that there was no question but that he should continue to direct the-

ir plays. Authors liked him because, being unimaginative, he was

forced to let the plays speak for themselves and often not being qu-

ite sure what they meant he was obliged to listen to them.

Julia was now a rich woman. She could not but admit that Michael

was as careful of her money as of his own. He watched her invest-

ments and was as pleased when he could sell stocks at a profit on

her account as if he had made the money for himself. He put her

down-for a very large salary, and was proud to be able to say that

she was the most highly paid actress in London, but when he him-

self acted he never put himself down for a higher salary than he tho-

ught the part was worth. When he directed a play he put down on

the expense account the fee that a director of the second rank wo-

uld have received. They shared the expenses of the house and the

cost of Roger's education. Roger had been entered for Eton within a

week of his birth. It was impossible to deny that Michael was scrupu-

lously fair and honest. When Julia realized how much richer she was

than he she wanted to pay all these expenses herself.

" There's no reason why you should, " said Michael. " As long as I

can pay my whack* I'll pay it. You earn more than I do because

you're worth more. I put you down for a good salary because you

draw it. "

No one could do other than admire the self-abnegation with which

he sacrificed himself for her sake. Any ambition he may have had

for himself he had abandoned in order to foster her career. Even

Dolly, who did not like him, acknowledged his unselfishness. A sort

of modesty had always prevented Julia from discussing him with

Dolly, but Dolly, with her shrewdness, had long seen how intensely

Michael exasperated his wife, and now and then took the trouble to

point out how useful he was to her. Everybody praised him. A per-

fect husband. It seemed to her that none but she knew what it was

like to live with a man who was such a monster of vanity. His comp-

lacency when he had beaten an opponent at golf or got the better of

someone in a business deal was infuriating. He gloried in his artful-

ness. He was a bore, a crashing bore. He liked to tell Julia everything

he did and every scheme that passed through his head; it had been

charming when merely to have him with her was a delight, but for