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 Well, said the priest,  she said she had given the girl the part of the
beautiful heroine and had retired into the background herself with the older
part of a matron. Now that might have applied to almost any play; but it
falsifies the facts about that particular play. She can only have meant that
she gave the other actress the part of Maria, which is hardly a part at all.
And the part of the obscure and self-effacing married woman, if you please,
must have been the part of Lady Teazle, which is the only part any actress
wants to act. If the Italian was a first-rate actress who had been promised a
first-rate part, there was really some excuse, or at least some cause, for her
mad Italian rage. There generally is for mad Italian rages: Latins are logical
and have a reason for going mad. But that one little thing let in daylight for
me on the meaning of her magnanimity. And there was another thing, even then.
You laughed when I said that the sulky look of Mrs. Sands was a study in
character; but not in the character of Mrs. Sands. But it was true. If you
want to know what a lady is really like, don t look at her; for she may be too
clever for you. Don t look at the men round her, for they may be too silly
about her. But look at some other woman who is always near to her, and
especially one who is under her. You will see in that mirror her real face,
and the face mirrored in Mrs. Sands was very ugly.
 And as for all the other impressions, what were they? I heard a lot about
the unworthiness of poor old Mandeville; but it was all about his being
unworthy other, and I am pretty certain it came indirectly from her. And, even
so, it betrayed itself. Obviously, from what every man said, she had confided
in every man about her confounded intellectual loneliness. You yourself said
she never complained; and then quoted her about how her uncomplaining silence
strengthened her soul. And that is just the note; that s the unmistakable
style. People who complain are just jolly, human Christian nuisances; I don t
mind them. But people who complain that they never complain are the devil.
They are really the devil; isn t that swagger of stoicism the whole point of
the Byronic cult of Satan? I heard all this; but for the life of me I couldn t
hear of anything tangible she had to complain of. Nobody pretended that her
husband drank, or beat her, or left her without money, or even was unfaithful,
until the rumor about the secret meetings, which were simply her own
melodramatic habit of pestering him with curtain-lectures in his own business
office. And when one looked at the facts, apart from the atmospheric
impression of martyrdom she contrived to spread, the facts were really quite
the other way. Mandeville left off making money on pantomimes to please her;
he started losing money on classical drama to please her. She arranged the
scenery and furniture as she liked. She wanted Sheridan s play and she had it;
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she wanted the part of Lady Teazle and she had it; she wanted a rehearsal
without costume at that particular hour and she had it. It may be worth
remarking on the curious fact that she wanted that.
 But what is the use of all this tirade? asked the actor, who had hardly
ever heard his clerical friend, make so long a speech before.  We seem to have
got a long way from the murder in all this psychological business. She may
have eloped with Knight; she may have bamboozled Randall; she may have
bamboozled me. But she can t have murdered her husband for everyone agrees she
was on the stage through the whole scene. She may be wicked; but she isn t a
witch.
 Well, I wouldn t be so sure, said Father Brown, with a smile.  But she
didn t need to use any witchcraft in this case. I know now that she did it,
and very simply indeed.
 Why are you so sure of that? asked Jarvis, looking at him in a puzzled way.
 Because the play was The School for Scandal, replied Father Brown,  and
that particular act of The School for Scandal. I should like to remind you, as
I said just now, that she always arranged the furniture how she liked. I
should also like to remind you that this stage was built and used for
pantomimes; it would naturally have trap-doors and trick exits of that sort.
And when you say that witnesses could attest to having seen all the performers
on the stage, I should like to remind you that in the principal scene of The
School for Scandal one of the principal performers remains for a considerable
time on the stage, but is not seen. She is technically  on, but she might
practically be very much  off. That is the Screen of Lady Teazle and the
Alibi of Mrs. Mandeville.
There was a silence and then the actor said:  You think she slipped through a
trap-door behind a screen down to the floor below, where the manager s room
was?
 She certainly slipped away in some fashion; and that is the most probable
fashion, said the other.  I think it all the more probable because she took
the opportunity of an undress rehearsal, and even indeed arranged for one. It
is a guess; but I fancy if it had been a dress rehearsal it might have been
more difficult to get through a trap-door in the hoops of the eighteenth
century. There are many little difficulties, of course, but I think they could
all be met in time and in turn.
 What I can t meet is the big difficulty, said Jarvis, putting his head on
his hand with a sort of groan.  I simply can t bring myself to believe that a
radiant and serene creature like that could so lose, so to speak, her bodily
balance, to say nothing of her moral balance. Was any motive strong enough?
Was she very much in love with Knight?
 I hope so, replied his companion;  for really it would be the most human
excuse. But I m sorry to say that I have my doubts. She wanted to get rid of
her husband, who was an old-fashioned, provincial hack, not even making much
money. She wanted to have a career as the brilliant wife of a brilliant and
rapidly-rising actor. But she didn t want in that sense to act in The School
for Scandal. She wouldn t have run away with a man except in the last resort.
It wasn t a human passion with her, but a sort of hellish respectability. She
was always dogging her husband in secret and badgering him to divorce himself
or otherwise get out of the way; and as he refused he paid at last for his
refusal. There s another thing you ve got to remember. You talk about these
highbrows having a higher art and a more philosophical drama. But remember
what a lot of the philosophy is! Remember what sort of conduct those highbrows
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often present to the highest! All about the Will to Power and the Right to
Live and the Right to Experience damned nonsense and more than damned
nonsense nonsense that can damn.
Father Brown frowned, which he did very rarely; and there was still a cloud [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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