ACT I

The town-house, in its architecture and its furnishings, belongs to an older generation. The parlor, in the second story, opens at the back, up three shallow steps and through a wide arched doorway, hung with dull green curtains that are looped aside, into a writing room. The rear wall of this inner room is lined with bookshelves. A writing table and a chair fill the centre of the room. In the parlor itself are two long windows at the right, hung with curtains and formal lambrequins, and set with window boxes, full of plants in blossom, and with cushioned window-seats. Between the windows stands a tall, old-fashioned secretary, topped with a classic bust, and littered with writing things, among which are a pair of desk candlesticks and several photographs in frames. A stand with the globe of gold-fish is in the window nearer the audience and close by a rocking-horse. At either side of the door to the writing room stands a bookcase. Above these bookcases hang large prints of battle-scenes. At the left is a fireplace, filled with green branches. Above the narrow mantle-ledge hangs the picture of a man in uniform, draped with a flag of three diagonal stripes, dark blue, orange, and dark blue. Beneath the picture hangs a sheathed sword. At either side of the fireplace are doors to the outer passage. Before the fireplace are two armchairs. At the centre of the room is a table, with three chairs, and across the table, facing the audience, is drawn a small sofa. The furniture all is mellowed with use.

The season is early June. The time is the middle of the morning, ten days subsequent to the happenings of the Prologue.

Seated at the table in the writing room, the Professor drives a busy pen. On the rocking-horse sits Roland, with toy sword, helmet, and cuirass, and a toy banner, on a staff, in his hand. At the secretary Katherine is busy with notes and check-book. Lydia, by the hearth, is mending a silk flag, the size of a company pennon. At the table Gertrude, and her two friends, Frances and Margaret, girls of her own age and class, are deftly making small nosegays, and putting them into a flat basket, which already is three quarters filled. The table is littered with greens and cut flowers. The women all are in light summer frocks. The sunlight from the long windows is clear and strong. From the street below swells the sound of martial music. The girls’ voices at first are barely audible through the din, but as the regiment passes, presently it dies.

Margaret. Every man that is a man is going to the front.

Frances. That’s just what I told Richard. So of course he went and volunteered. If he hadn’t, I’d never have spoken to him again.

Margaret. The field uniforms are the sweetest things.

Frances. I shall have my new coat cut with a military collar.

Gertrude. Stop talking, girls, and hurry! Don’t forget the train goes through at half past eleven.

[Martha comes in at the left, rear door, with a note and a newspaper.]

Frances. Won’t the soldiers be glad of the flowers!

Lydia. You’d much better take them tobacco.

Martha. Here’s the Extra, ma’am, they were crying in the street. [Gives paper to Lydia.] And here’s a note from the hospital, ma’am. [Gives note to Katherine.]

Margaret [rising]. Oh, may we look, too? [Runs to Lydia.]

Frances [at Lydia’s side]. Another victory. Glorious!

Lydia. Didn’t I tell you? When once this country is roused!

Katherine. Gertrude!

Gertrude. Yes, dear.

Katherine. We’d better cut up all the old linen in the house.

Gertrude. Are they short of gauze already?

Katherine. Yes. And another trainload of wounded will come in to-night.

Frances [returning to the table]. Did you hear that, Trudie? Another victory!

Gertrude. Oh, yes. I heard.

Martha. Here are the keys, ma’am.

Katherine. Yes. Are the sandwiches ready?

Martha. I’ve just given the hamper to the porter to take to the station.

Katherine. Boil both the hams to-night. The commissary seems to have broken down. If we don’t feed the troops that pass through—

Gertrude. O Martha! Reach us some flowers from the window boxes. We’re running short.

Martha [at rear window, right]. They’re most all dying, Miss. It’s the dust the men kick up a-marching by.

[A bugle sounds in the street and the jingle of harness.]

Roland [at the window]. O Mummy, look! Cavalry!

Frances. If I don’t just love a bugle!

Martha. Wouldn’t I just like to be a man and go fight the nasty foreigners myself!

Professor. Martha! Will you please come here?

Martha. Yes, sir. [Goes into writing room.]

Professor. At last I have caught that troublesome mouse. Kindly dispose of it! [Gives Martha a wire trap, which he takes from beneath the writing table.] I mean, take it away and kill it.

Martha [coming into the parlor]. Well, I must say! I’ve never killed nothing in my life, but flies and mosquitoes. And if he wants his mouse killed, he can kill it himself, so there.

Roland [going to her]. Say, Martha, let’s turn him loose in the court.

Martha. We will that.

Roland. He’ll be so scared he’ll never come back, and he’ll tell all the other little mice never to come here, too.

[Roland and Martha go out at the forward door left.]

Professor [rising]. There! That is quite done. [Comes into the parlor, manuscript in hand.] This is an appeal to be given to the world in this evening’s papers, a trumpet call to the youth of our land to rally to the standard.

Gertrude. What’s the good of their rallying, if there’s no equipment for them?

Professor. That is beside the point. [Margaret goes to the rear window for flowers.] Their backwardness at such a time is appalling.

Katherine. So many men have wives and children and old folks that depend upon them.

Professor. The claims of our country are paramount.

Lydia. What do you know about it? You’ve nothing with a claim upon you, except that bowl of gold-fish.

Professor [going to her]. Let me assure you, my dear sister, that if my heart were not weak, and if I were not past the age limit, I should be already at the front. That is, if it were not true now as always that the pen is mightier than the sword. If I can stir a thousand men to action by my writings, obviously it is better for the nation that I stay at home and write. [Goes to the door, but turns, smarting with the sense of his wrongs.] Anybody but a woman would see that!

[The Professor goes out, forward door, left.]

Gertrude. Hurry, Margaret! It’s late!

Margaret. Just a minute. It’s a lot of volunteers are passing now. Come see them, Kate!

Katherine. I can’t bear to look. They’re all so young.

Margaret. Oh, Basil! [Turns from window.] Here’s your brother Basil, just coming up the steps. And he’s got his uniform at last.

Frances [rising]. What uniform?

Gertrude [rising]. They’ve graduated the first class cadets ahead of time. Basil is a lieutenant now.

[Basil comes in, forward door, left, in the showy uniform of a hussar lieutenant, which he carries well. You love him at sight.]

Gertrude. Oh, you beautiful thing!

Basil. Chuck it now! [Puts busby and gauntlets on chair.] Good morning, Frances. Good morning, Margaret.

Frances. My, but you’re splendid!

Basil. How do you like it, Mother?

Lydia. Come here! That collar isn’t going to rub your neck?

Basil. Devil a bit!

Frances. Don’t you want to do something for me?

Basil [going to her, with an exaggerated bow]. My heart is at your feet.

Frances. I don’t want your heart. I want one of your coat buttons.

Basil. The penalty for cutting off a button is shooting. Do you want to put a permanent crimp in my career?

Frances. But you must have an extra button.

Basil. I have. [Takes button from pocket.] For the dearest girl in the world.

Frances. That’s me?

Margaret [wounded]. Basil!

Basil [turning to Lydia]. Will you accept it, Mother?

Lydia [trying to hide her feelings]. Foolishness! [Pockets button.] I can ease that collar a little. You’re staying to lunch?

Basil. I’m afraid not. Just ran around to say: So long!

Katherine. What do you mean?

Basil. Ripping good luck! We’ve got our marching orders.

[The three girls speak together:]

Frances. How perfectly lovely!

Margaret. This very day?

Gertrude. Where are you going?

Lydia. Marching orders! [Sinks back in her chair, clutching the flag.]

Basil [bending over her]. Mother! I say!

Lydia. It’s—a little sudden. Don’t mind me! [Rises, leaving the flag on the chair.] There are some things to get ready. I’ll be down in a minute.

[Lydia goes out through the writing room.]

Gertrude [after an instant’s troubled pause]. These flowers must go.

Frances. You must have a flower, Basil. To remember me by. [Puts a flower in his coat.]

Basil. Is it likely I’d forget you?

Margaret [offering a flower]. Here, Basil.

Basil [taking flower]. But I’ll have to wear one of them behind my ear!

Frances. Goose! I’m going to kiss you good-bye. Old playmates! [Kisses him.] Good-bye, Gertrude! Good luck, Basil!

[Frances goes out, forward door left, with the basket of flowers.]

Margaret. Good-bye, Basil!

Basil [taking her hand]. Good-bye, Margaret. Don’t forget me!

Margaret. No, never.

[He starts to draw her to him.]

Frances [outside]. Hurry, Margaret! Hurry! Hurry!

[Margaret goes out, forward door, left.]

Basil [throwing into the wastepaper-basket the flower that Frances gave]. It gets me how you can have a little idiot like Frances buzzing round you. [Goes to the window, right, back, putting Margaret’s flower in his coat as he does so.]

Gertrude. Thank goodness, we’re rid of them at last.

Basil [in window]. She doesn’t look back.

Gertrude [impishly]. Frances?

Basil. Frances? No! Of course not.

Katherine. Where are they sending you?

Basil. Don’t know. [Turns from window, slightly swaggering, while he gets out a cigarette.] Oh, the firing line, all right. Great luck! Was afraid the war would be over before I’d had a crack at it. Can’t last more than six weeks, you know. We’ve got the beggars on the run already. So much for all their big guns and new explosives. It’s the spirit you put into it counts, I tell you. Hang it all! Got any matches?

Katherine. Right here.

Basil [going to secretary]. Seen the papers, haven’t you? [Strikes a match.] We’ve had another— Hello! Still got Phil’s picture standing round? [Toward table, smoking.]

Katherine. Why not?

Basil. Just a matter of taste, that’s all. I wonder if the fellow was a spy.

Katherine. Now that you’re wearing a lieutenant’s uniform, it would be a mortal insult to box your ears, wouldn’t it?

Basil. [distinctly embarrassed]. Well?

Katherine. I should hate to have to insult you. Better go to your mother. She’s waiting for you.

Basil [on way out]. Coming, Trudie?

Gertrude. In a minute. I’ve got to clear up.

[Basil goes out through the writing room. Gertrude throws litter from the table into the wastepaper-basket.]

Gertrude. Kate! Basil is right, you know.

Katherine. About Phil’s picture? [Rises.]

Gertrude. Yes.

Katherine [going to her]. Gertrude! Have you thought—

Gertrude. I haven’t done much else, all these endless days. It’s got to stop. Why, Kate, what else can I do? Basil is going to the front. Rob is drilling with his regiment. I belong with them. Not with Phil.

Katherine. How much did you ever really care for him?

Gertrude. So much that if he came in at that door—if I heard his voice—if I felt his arms about me— What should I do? [Clings to Katherine, sobbing.] Oh, I don’t know what I should do.

[Robert comes in, forward door, left, in civilian clothes.]

Robert. Hello! Hello! What’s the row?

[Military music from the street below.]

Gertrude. Oh, let me be! Please! Let me be!

[Gertrude hurries out, crying, at the rear door left.]

Robert. What’s up?

Katherine. She’s tired to death, that’s all. [Sits on sofa.]

Robert. Not fretting about Phil, is she?

Katherine. What should you suppose?

Robert. Well, she’d better drop it. Things being as they are— Can’t you see it’s impossible? [Katherine hides her face in her hands.] What’s the matter? [He sits beside her.] Come, come, Kate! That isn’t like you. Tired, aren’t you?

Katherine. Tired of hearing them marching by. All day long. All night long. And all the love and kindness that made our lives, trampled under the feet that march.

Robert. That’s morbid. Come on! Crack a smile, Kate. That’s a good girl. You don’t want to lose your grip, you know, so early in the game.

[Music dies slowly away.]

Katherine. So early— You mean the war is only just beginning?

Robert. Kate! It hasn’t even begun.

Katherine. And Basil says: In six weeks!

Robert. Yes. And the newspapers report another victory, every day or so.

Katherine. You mean they’re telling us—

Robert. Well—they’re not telling us more than half the truth. Don’t you worry, dear! In the long run we’ll knock those damned cock-sure foreigners down on their knees, yes, and hold ’em there till they promise to be good. But before we can do that, we’ve got to make an army out of a lot of raw men that never so much as loaded a gun. That isn’t done in a day.

Katherine. Oh, what’s the good of it! What’s the use of it! What’s the sense of it!

Robert. Kate!

Katherine. In ten days’ fighting you’ve undone the life-work of thousands of people. There ought to be some other way. There must be some other way.

Robert. There, there!

Katherine. And you say we haven’t even begun! But we women, we’ve begun already. Do you realize what the distress is like in the families of the poorer men that have volunteered?

Robert. Those things will all adjust themselves.

Katherine. Do you realize how many babies have been killed already by your war?

Robert. What are you talking about?

Katherine. So many dead, because the milk in the mother’s breast turned poison, when the father went away to war. So many born dead—

Robert. That’s sentimental. The infant death-rate may soar a bit, but after a war there’s always an increase in births.

Katherine. If Roland should die, would it console you to know that a dozen children will be born down in the village next winter?

Robert [rising]. There’s no reasoning with you, Kate. Too bad to disagree to-day, of all days. [Goes to hearth.] I had something I wanted to tell you.

Katherine [rising]. Something—bad, you mean.

Robert. Nothing dreadful, only—I might have mentioned it before, but I thought, in case I didn’t pull it off, no need to fuss you up for nothing. And as long as you’re comfortably fixed here—

Katherine [going to him]. Quick! Quick! Tell me what you’re driving at!

Robert. Kate, dear!

Katherine. You’re going to leave me?

Robert. Yes.

Katherine. With the men that march?

Robert. Yes.

Katherine. My God! [Quietly sits down by the hearth.]

Robert. The country needs trained men. Needs ’em desperately. You wouldn’t have me hang round home now, would you? I couldn’t anyhow. Not with his blood in me [pointing to the picture over the fireplace], and the chaps that were his fathers before him.

Katherine. I thought—not till later. Your regiment, just raw defensibles—

Robert. I’m not waiting for them.

Katherine. You’ve volunteered?

Robert. Changed my major’s commission for a captaincy in the regulars. Don’t you realize? They’re short of officers already. I’m to report at Headquarters to-night.

Katherine. This very night?

Robert. Had my new uniform sent round here. Better get into it, perhaps. [Starts toward writing room.]

Katherine. And Basil goes to-day. What will your mother do? What shall I do?

Robert [turning quickly]. Kate!

Katherine. All right. [Controls herself. Rises.] Yes. Of course. I understand. It’s in the blood. My fathers weren’t soldiers—but one of them burned at the stake for the faith that was his. How much time have we still?

Robert. Well—about an hour.

Katherine. No more? Your mother—she’ll want a moment, alone. Go to her! Speak to Gertrude! I’ll come in a minute.

Robert. Kate! [Catches her to him.] You see, I didn’t realize that the call would come so soon. Kate, dear!

Katherine. Don’t! I can’t bear it. Please go! I’ll come presently. I’ll come.

[Robert goes out through the writing room. Katherine sways and sinks on the sofa, covering her face with her hands. After a moment Martha comes in excitedly at the forward door left.]

Martha. If you please, ma’am.

Katherine. Not now, Martha. I can’t.

Martha. O ma’am! He’s come back.

Katherine [looking up.] Who?

Martha. Mr. Philip.

Katherine. Phil!

Martha. He wants to see you. He’s waiting downstairs.

Katherine [rising]. Not here in this house?

Martha. Yes, ma’am.

Katherine. In this town where everybody knows him! Why, the people in the street—the very neighbors—if they should raise the cry of spy!

Martha. O ma’am! Not like that poor man they—

Katherine. Send him up here quick! And don’t let any one else in. [Martha starts to go.] Say I’m not at home.

[Phil comes in headlong at the forward door.]

Phil [catching her last words]. You’ve got to see me, Katherine.

[Martha goes out.]

Katherine. Oh, you crazy boy!

Phil [grasping her hands]. Listen to me!

Katherine. Why aren’t you safe across your own frontier? You’ve had ten days.

Phil. Ten days? Yes. Ten days like ten years. I’ve been hiding out in the suburbs. I’ve been waiting for a word from Gertrude.

Katherine. Phil!

Phil. Where is she?

Katherine. Here.

Phil. Why hasn’t she sent me a word? Didn’t you get my letters?

Katherine. Yes.

Phil. Then why hasn’t she written? What’s wrong? Tell me, Katherine! Tell me! I’ve come here to find out. I don’t go till I do find out.

[Gertrude comes in at the rear door left.]

Gertrude. O Kate! Rob is calling for you.

Phil [turning, arms out]. Gertrude!

Gertrude [instinctively, straight to his arms]. Phil! Phil! [Recovering herself, she draws back.] Oh, no! no!

Katherine [in the doorway of the writing room]. Say what you came to say. I’ll go to Rob.

Gertrude. Don’t leave me, Kate!

Katherine. He’s risked his life to come here. You’ve got to listen to him.

[Katherine goes out through the writing room.]

Gertrude. There’s nothing to say. You belong there. I belong here.

Phil. Belong to what? To a lot of crazy savages, gone drunk with newspaper-lies?

Gertrude. You shan’t speak so of my countrymen!

Phil. My own precious countrymen are just as wild-eyed as yours. We don’t belong to either camp. We belong to each other.

Gertrude. No, no! That’s all past!

Phil. You bet it isn’t. Sit down! Come! [Draws her down on the sofa, and sits beside her.] Listen to me, Trudie! Get the noise of the marching out of your ears. Remember what it was like, spring twilight, there in the garden, when we first kissed. [Kisses her.]

Gertrude [clinging to him]. O Phil! These last days—they’ve been an awful dream.

Phil. That’s all we’ll let this war be to us, an awful dream. We’re going to get out of it.

Gertrude. How can we?

Phil. Now listen! You sail for America next week. I’ll send you to an exchange professor that I know. His wife will look after you. I’ll join you inside the month. We’ll be married.

Gertrude. And I thought it was all over and done with!

Phil. They’ll give me an instructor’s berth, and a room in the laboratory. I’ll get at the research. While they’re killing over here, I’ll be hammering out a way to cure. Isn’t that as worth while?

Gertrude. Why, yes. Of course!

Phil. And we’ll have a shelter to offer to your mother and to Katherine, if things go wrong.

Gertrude. If things— [Slowly comprehending.] If things go wrong? You mean you think your people will get the better of my people?

Phil. Dear, I only said if.

Gertrude [rising]. But you think it.

Phil. What else can I think? I know the kind of fight my country is going to make. There’s only one outcome possible. [Rises.] But all that has nothing to do with us, dear, has it?

Gertrude. Yes. Everything—everything. I’ve got to stand by. Because my country is going to need every ounce of strength that’s in every last man and woman, too. Because your treacherous country—

Phil. Treacherous!

Gertrude. Yes. Haven’t you been arming yourselves?

Phil. It’s hardly fair to call us treacherous because you’ve chosen to be blind.

Gertrude. Why—

Phil. A nation’s got to do one of two things: arm itself or else stop talking war. You’ve gone about bragging of your past, with a blunderbuss made in 1830. Now we’ll turn to with real guns and teach you—

Gertrude. Phil!

Phil [realizing what he has said]. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. [Going to her.] One country is to me no more than another. Trudie! Please!

Gertrude. You may believe what you’re saying. But it isn’t so. You belong with the foreigners, after all. And they’ve behaved like savages.

Phil. Remember, dear, my father and my mother belong to that race of savages.

Gertrude. Yes. I remember at last. Oh, I was crazy! Even for a minute to think that we could ever—

Phil. Listen to me!

Gertrude [turning from him]. No, no! [Snatches the flag from her mother’s chair.] This is my flag. My father fought for it. His father—

Phil. Don’t be theatric, dear.

Gertrude. Yes, that’s just what you would say—a man who turns his back on his homeland—who runs away when others fight—

Phil. Yes. Running into a laboratory, where I’ve risked death a hundred times, and no bugles and flags about it either.

Gertrude. But I stand by my country. If I can help one wounded boy that has fought for his country—

Phil. You don’t know what you’re saying, Trudie. [Goes to her.] You’re tired. You’re hysterical. [Takes her in his arms.]

Gertrude. Let me go!

Phil. Listen to me! Listen! We’ll give up the thought of America. I don’t ask you to marry me now. I ask you only to wait.

Gertrude. No, no!

Phil. Only to say that you love me and you’ll wait. Only that! O my dear! Don’t you realize it’s our lives we’re settling now, for keeps?

Gertrude. And do you think I’ll tie my life to a coward?

Phil [drawing back, mortally hurt]. Trudie!

[Robert, in the uniform of an infantry captain, comes through the writing room, followed by Katherine.]

Katherine. Wait, Rob! Wait!

Gertrude. Here’s where I belong. Here’s where I stay.

Robert [coming into the parlor, to Phil]. What are you doing here?

Phil. Wasting time. [Goes blindly to the right.]

[Basil comes through the writing room.]

Basil. What’s the row? [Seeing Phil.] Come back, have you?

Gertrude. He wants me to marry him. But I won’t go with him.

Robert [beneath his breath]. You sneak!

Basil. Case for the detention camp, this time, Rob.

Phil [facing the brothers]. Well?

Roland [outside]. Daddy!

Robert. Keep him out!

[Before Basil can move to intercept him, Roland runs in at the rear door left, and casts himself upon Phil.]

Roland. O my Phil! Did you come back to see us?

Katherine. Rob! Please! Please! You know what brought him here.

Robert [after a moment, pointing off through writing room]. That way is clear. For old sake’s sake, you’re free to go that way, if you go quick.

Phil. Thanks! [Sets down Roland.] I like the front way better.

Katherine. Phil! No! If they take you at our door!

Phil. I came safe. I shall go safe. I am the sort looks out always for safety.

Katherine. But where are you going?

Phil. Back to my own country. Then to hell very likely.

[Phil goes out by the forward door.]

Gertrude. Oh! They won’t kill him! [Starts after Phil.]

[Robert stops her.]

Basil [in window at back]. The street’s clear. Or he wouldn’t have risked it.

Robert. Good old Trudie!

Roland [curled up on the sofa, sobbing.] Phil!

Basil [going to him]. Buck up, old man!

[Lydia appears in the doorway of the writing room. Very faintly from the street sounds the music of the March-out, which swells louder and louder as the act goes on.]

Lydia. Boys! It’s time, if you’re to take that train.

Robert. Roland! Stop crying. Come, come! [Leads him to Katherine.] Remember you’re to take care of your mother.

Lydia. Give me that flag, Gertrude!

Gertrude [beside herself, kissing the flag passionately]. O Mother! Mother!

Lydia. Hush! It was the flag of your father’s company, Basil. Bring it home, as he brought it! Bring it home!

Basil. Yes, Mother. [Kisses her, and places her, half fainting, on the sofa.] Good girl, Sis! [Embraces Gertrude.] Good-bye! Six weeks from now. We’ll have them cleaned up by then, the scallawags! [Catching up busby and gloves.] Come on, Rob, you duffer! Good-bye, Kate! Six weeks and a captaincy! Good-bye!

[Basil goes out at forward door.]

Lydia. My little boy! Rob! My little boy!

Robert [kneeling before her]. There, there, Mother! It’s all right. It’s all right. You’ve got Gertrude. You’ve got Kate. Take care of each other. It won’t be long. [Turns to Katherine.] Old girl! [Kisses her, snatches up his cap, goes hurriedly to the door.] Good-bye!

Roland [running after Robert]. Good-bye, Daddy!

[Robert goes out. The door closes in Roland’s grieved and puzzled little face.]

Lydia. Basil! My little, little boy!

Gertrude [seated at table, raising her head]. Do you think you’re the only one that’s given? I’ve given. All that I have. For my country. Freely. Joyfully.

[Frances and Margaret run in at the rear door left.]

Frances. Such a crowd! We ran in the back way.

Margaret. They’re gone!

Frances. No, not yet.

[The two girls run to the window, rear, Roland to the front window.]

Gertrude [rising unsteadily]. Quick! The flowers! All that there are!

[The three girls crowd in the rear window, tearing up the flowers from the window boxes, and casting them to the troops that pass below, with broken cries of “Good luck!” “Good-bye!” that are drowned in the music of the March-out. Katherine stands with eyes covered. Roland tugs at her skirt and draws her to the window where he stands waving his flag. The music is at its fortissimo. Lydia nerves herself, rises, and totters a step toward the window.]

CURTAIN