The Constant Nymph Page #7

I could not bear it!

We'll go down now.

I'll send you up something to eat.

Oh, thank you so much, Florence.

We starved.

You haven't had anything to eat?

-When did you get here?

-Hours ago.

-Why didn't I know?

-Darling, you were having a party.

Naturally, they were afraid

you'd be upset.

-You can see that, right?

-Anyone would think I was an ogress.

I shall play for you,

sweet Florence...

-...as I've never played before.

-What are you going to play?

-The Sanger Symphony.

-Oh, Lewis, are you?

It's called "Tomorrow",

a symphonic poem.

Even you will like it.

Come along, darling.

Can we listen, you think?

I shall be most hurt

if you don't.

-From up there, girls.

-Naturally, Florence.

Florence, where have you been?

Lewis, my boy,

I want to introduce you...

...to one of my oldest friends.

May I present my son-in-law,

Mr. Lewis Dodd. Lady Longborough.

-How do you do, Mr. Dodd?

-How do you do?

At long last.

-This is my daughter, Alicia.

-How do you do?

-Captain Turtle.

-How do you do?

-Turtle?

-Yes, sir.

I will buzz along. You know,

a little bubbly water.

Yes, run along.

-Excuse us.

-Careful, dear.

-Yes, mother.

-Is his name really Turtle?

-Yes, Turtle.

Archie Turtle, yes. Why?

I don't know.

What's the joke?

-It's no joke, Charles.

-What's no joke?

Captain Turtle!

Isn't there a fable about

a fox and a turtle?

You mean, the hare

and the turtle.

He has a fine pack of foxhounds,

if that's what you mean.

Yes, that's exactly

what we mean, Charles.

You two seem to have clicked.

Have you met before?

No, no, very unfortunately.

Dodd's very well-mannered.

He couldn't look less like a musician.

You should live in this house and

hear him musicianing every morning.

My husband used to sing in the bath

every morning, regularly.

I'm sure he did. He had

good cause to be happy.

I could beat Florence for

hiding you away from me.

Florence! Come here!

Constance is stealing your husband.

To the piano with me, my boy.

Mr. Carolli's waiting for you.

Besides,

you're making too much

of a success with women.

-If you take him away I shall go.

I'm 72 years old,

I don't like music.

-I have an appointment with a horse.

-Tonight?

No, early in the morning. Sylvia,

my mare, gets fretty if I'm late.

Mr. Carolli's getting fretty about

your music. Come along.

-I'd love a drink.

-You can have one later.

Please stay.

He's going to play now.

Yes, I stay. Get me

a straight chair.

It was very kind of you

to come, Mr. Carolli.

You know, I'm not a concert pianist.

You'll have to do most of it.

You have written a mouthful.

-A lot of people don't like music.

-Quiet, father, please.

That wretched woman warbling

got them all in.

-On your own head be it!

-Father...

It's a wonder to me

any reasonable piano...

...can stand up under

such a pounding.

Maybe that's why

they have two pianos.

Quiet, Uncle Charles.

-What's the matter with you?

-That's not what he said he'd play.

The first opening chords were the ones

Sanger wrote on that day but--

-the main theme is so dissonant.

-There's no melodic line.

There's no feeling of it,

it's just rhythm.

It's very modern.

It's long way from tears.

-What do you mean?

Sanger said Lewis would be great

if he could only cry or suffer.

I suppose this is

a form of suffering.

Don't joke.

Listen to it.

I am, and he's forgot

his heart again.

He did remember it once.

Remember?

Then Florence came along

and he lost it again.

And they lived happily everafter.

-That's not what I mean.

It's his music.

Well, what can you do about it?

Lewis has gone from us.

What else could it ever be now?

-Good morning.

-Good morning, Miss Tessa.

-Nice party last night?

-Yes, Miss.

-Good morning.

-Good morning, Miss.

-Good morning, Tessa

-Good morning, Florence.

-Very nice last night, Thorpe.

-Thank you, madam.

There'll be six for lunch.

Tell the cook to come down.

-Good morning, Hamilton.

-Good morning, Miss Tessa.

-Oh, Florence?

-Yes.

-It must've been a lovely party.

-Yes, it was.

I'm really awfully sorry about it.

Yes, we must talk about that.

At least you got one of us

off your hands.

I just saw Paula off at the station

with Toni and Fritz...

...and she looked very happy.

Now I only have

one little problem.

Speaking of problems,

where's Lewis?

At work, in the studio.

-Oh, thank you.

-He's working.

Yes, I know.

-Good morning, Robert-o!

-Good morning, signorina.

If you have a bad heart,

why you dash upstairs like that?

Here I am,

the last of the brood.

And the pick of the bunch.

-Well, I'm glad about one thing.

-What's that?

You haven't been turned

into a lady.

I thought that's what

you wanted me to become.

No! Promise me you won't change.

You're perfect as you are.

-You think so?

-I know so.

-Is your concert on the 28th?

-Uh-huh, 28th., Regents Hall.

-Are you very excited about it?

-Not a bit.

-I wouldn't blame you.

-Why?

It's only my opinion.

Of what?

Of what Sanger's opinion would be

if he had come to your nice party.

In the first place, it was not

my nice party. It was Florence's.

It sounded a bit like it.

Tessa! Are you being ungracious?

Of course not.

I only meant that, uh--

What?

-What? What do you mean?

-You know what I mean.

You mean this?

-Don't stop. It's so exciting.

-What's exciting?

You really took them by storm

last night. They were thrilled.

They were amateurs! Ask Tessa

what she thinks of it.

-Why should I?

-She's a musician.

What is your opinion, Tessa?

Well, it was very loud,

and very defiant,

and it was very aggressive,

and I suppose some people...

...pretend to like it even

if they didn't understand it.

And did you understand it, Tessa?

Thank you, Florence.

Unfortunately no and I don't think

Lewis did, either.

That is, if he's as honest about

his work as he always has been.

What are you talking about?

A symphonic poem entitled "Tomorrow"

by Lewis Dodd. Remember?

That's what she's talking about.

It was very beautiful. Once you had

a melodic line you were going to develop it.

-And I haven't developed it, I suppose.

-No, you haven't.

Oh, what's the matter with you,

darling Lewis?

I don't know, I'm bewildered.

You aren't taking her seriously,

are you? Why argue with her?

Lewis had something very worthwhile.

once. Sanger said so...

...and at the time Lewis agreed.

Then he must have become

ashamed of it and--

hid it under a lot of--

-A lot of what?

Mathematics!

Lewis is in deathly terror

of sentiment.

About his work, I mean,

aren't you, Lewis?

The melody is here!

Oboes.

Listen.

I did listen last night.

Eight miserly little bars

and then...

...suddenly, off you go and

sound like a railway engine!

Bang-a-tee, bang-a-tee, bang!

Bang-a-tee, bang-a-tee, bang?

What do you mean?

Really, Lewis, I wonder

you have the patience.

Of course I have patience.

She's a Sanger.

Sanger or not, I hope

you won't change it.

I must say, all you Sanger people

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes