The Chinese Lantern

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THE CHINESE LANTERN

This play has been publicly performed in England, and entered at the Library of Congress, Washington, U.S.A. All rights [Pg viii]reserved.

Nau. If honourable Shivering-fit has that door shut, long-suffering Foresight will go mad.

[Hiti gives long-drawn sigh of exasperation:
Tee-Pee pats his back soothingly.

Tee. There, there, Hiti, cheer up! It will soon be over. The Feast of Lanterns begins at noon. Then, on the auspicious stroke, we shut up shop. Mr. Yunglangtsi, how does your august Serenity bear the inconsiderateness of this piffling heat?

New. Ugh! When are the sanguinary Event and the starry Oracle going to pay us our back wages, that’s what I want to know?

New. Ah! It’s all very well for fancy-price first-footers like you to talk! You think it’s all a subliminal joke. Still balancing yourselves on the giddy curriculum, you are: so fed up with the fat of your own fancies that you haven’t found out what a tip-top, ship-shape take-in you’ve tumbled to!

New. [Continuing.] Ah! To you it’s only a joke! But when’s the value of our antediluvian premiums[Pg 4] coming back to us? What are we doing here now? Stuffing up our ears with stale old lectures we all know by heart,—just because you’ve come in on the giddy make-believe? Talk of the Event! Here, you Hippopotamus, take that!

Han. Well, anyhow, the Event won’t pay us. Starvation-point, nought-nought-recurring—can’t afford to wait for it.

Hiti. What grovelling Curiosity can’t make out is why they should be marrying him to her.

Hiti. Consider what she was—a little Korean slave-girl who couldn’t even speak the language! And what is she now?—future bride of the incomparable Mr. Yunglangtsi, who sits there awaiting the fulfilment of his starry destiny—the Oracle which announces that he is to become the greatest of living artists.

Hiti. Oh no! Tiring of his exalted capacities he will hand them on to Yunglangtsi. It will be the occasion for a fresh lecture, as thus: ‘Gentlemen-pupils, apprentices, and paid workmen....’

Hiti. Sh! ‘Your immediate and polite attention.—’ (At the word ‘attention’ you will lay down your brushes, fold your hands submissively, and wait.) ‘In the instruction which it has been my honourable privilege to bestow all these years on your stubbornly benighted intelligences—’ (At these words you bow your heads) [hits fellow-student over head with a mahl-stick] (as an acknowledgment of what unprofitable Stick-in-the-muds you all are.)... ‘I have endeavoured to set before you the traditions of Wiowani, the greatest of all the ancient Masters, whose only surviving representative and follower I am—’ (At the word ‘am’ the complete Kow-tow is necessary), ‘and whose last and greatest masterpiece, entitled “The Threshold of the Muses,” here hangs before you for your instruction.’ (At these words you all turn and look at the great masterpiece as though you had never seen it before.)

[General derisive applause. Hiti in hitting at Nau-Tee knocks over paint-pot.

New. What meek Interrogation wants to know is—when are we going to strike for our pay?

Tee. To-day, if we could catch him. He always keeps an honourable alibi when Mrs. Back-of-the-House is out.

Lil. [To Tee-Pee.] Oh, I wish you wouldn’t go putting your blue brush into my red, you purple idiot!

[They all beat and pelt Tikipu back to his corner with pellets of bread, balls of paper, mahl-sticks, etc. Pee-Ah-Bee throws a shoe at him. Tikipu returns to his grinding with meek, dogged indifference. Enter behind, meanwhile, Mee-Mee carrying a water lily on a stand, which with obeisance she sets on the dais in front of Yunglangtsi. She is retiring again when one of the students catches sight of her.

Mee. Plesently: my merciful and mighty Mistless, hon’ble Mrs. Back-of-de-House, not gone out yet!

Pee. [Who has not spoken before.] H’m! You all thought she’d gone; I didn’t. Tikipu, you had better submissively behave yourself. Bring me that shoe!

[Tikipu brings it. Pee-Ah-Bee hits him with it and puts it on. Hiti-Titi while roaming round the room picks up a sign-board with a hole in it, and considers it for a while with his back to the others.

Hiti. Humbleness begs to inquire what Hoki-poki at the tea-shop said, when you took him his sign-board a month behind time?

Hiti. And so with honourable caution, to secure payment, we brought it back again?

Hiti. And he, putting his favourable foot into it, has returned it.... Allow me to present you with the signed article:—The Hocus-pocus of[Pg 8] Hanky-panky by Hoki-poki. [Presents sign-board.] That’s art-criticism!

Pee. Yes—so Mrs. Back-of-the-House thought. It was she who put her foot through it.

Josi. Any bits, chips, scraps, rag, bone, old clothes? Not any? Mr. Olangtsi seems not at home.

Josi. Don’t want to see him.... Shay! no honourable gentleman got nothing to—er—to—eh? Not got any old oil-skins, any old frames, any old lanterns, any old pictures not quite de fashion? ... any old ...

Josi. Well, if you wash to throw in a pair of old shoes to pay me for my trouble.... Yesh.... I’d take it.

Han. Humble but conscious Merit is much obliged. If it means no business, exalted Abasement had better clear out. There’s work going on here—see?

Josi. Huh! Shuppose it wash you, den, sittin’ up here at work wid a light all last night? eh? and till de morning—and de night before dat too, ugh?

Tiki. [With confusion.] That was Mr. Olangtsi. He’s very busy getting his new picture finished.

Tiki. Yes!—but—but he doesn’t want any one to know.... O honourable young Masters, he would be very angry were you to say I told you!

Tee. Does Mare’s-nest-Invention mean to tell me that superannuated Capacity goes painting at night?

Tee. Yes ... sometimes.... That picture illustriously[Pg 10] behind you now,—you know the story about that?

Josi. I knew dere wash a story: I never knew dat anybody believed it—except to keep up de price.

Tee. Ah! you should get Tikipu to tell it you! He believes it ... don’t you, Tiki?

Hiti. The Master himself owns the picture, stupid! But go on!—I always like to hear it again.

Tiki. You see, it was very long ago. It is easy not to believe what happened three hundred years ago.

Tiki. Wiowani, the great painter, when he painted that picture, was old and tired of life, and he longed for rest.... So he painted a little porch, and a garden; and in the porch just one spray of blossom in an old blue jar to remind him of youth, an instrument of music to remind him of song, and overhead a lantern to give light when it grew dark.... And when the picture was done the Emperor himself came to look at it.... And, as he looked, he said: ‘Oh, Wiowani, in there, it seems to me, is rest! Would that you and I could go and live in a place like that for ever!’

Josi. Ugh!... It’s a very intereshting shtory; but I don’t happen to want to buy de picture—even with Mr. Wiowani thrown in.

Han. That’s a stupid story, you know. What business has a picture with any perspective? You might as well talk of walking into a piece of music as walking into a picture!

Han. I’m not: I am simply a scientist. Latest science says that you can’t tell whether a thing is flat or round at twenty feet distance from the eye. Stereoscopic sight is a mere accident, and only means that you have got too close to an object to treat it artistically. Paint your foregrounds as if they were twenty feet away, and keep your distances as flat as the palm of your hand,—and there you have art and science rolled into one!

Tee. Ah, Han-Kin has been reading the old legend—the oldest of all—and he calls himself a scientist!

Tee. How the gods of the first creation made everything flat, and put it into a picture-book which they called the Book of Life, so that they could just turn over the leaves and amuse themselves without any trouble.

Lil. Yes,—and then one day they left it out in the rain, and it got wet and began to push out of bounds, and grow and swell in all directions. And so we got the world as it is—full of ups and downs, and behinds and befores, and corners that you can’t see round. Horrible, untidy, disgusting!

Lil. Copy it! Where does Repeating-pattern find art in that? Mere pig on pork I call it. What art has to do is—put things back into shape as the gods originally intended. Make your picture submissively flat—and there you’ve got religious art. A picture that looks as if you could walk into it makes me sick. Who wants to walk into it? Wiowani was an exalted ass to my thinking.

Hiti. Any blinkered fool who can’t see an outline, and couldn’t draw it if he did.

Han. If presumptuous Incapacity imagines that innuendo can prevent art from following science—

Tee. Oh, it’s no use quarrelling about theories. We[Pg 14] all paint either what we think will tell, or what we think will sell:—those are the only two schools I know of. If you are a naturalist, you paint pink flesh and green trees.

Tee. If a symbolist,—green flesh and brown trees. If you are a vibrantist you see spots, if a chiaroscurist you see blots, if you are academic you use hard outlines and polished surfaces and call it ‘finish.’

Tee. If an impressionist you avoid outlines, leave an accidental surface, and call it ‘quality.’ But you all really see exactly alike——

Tee. The thing is sometimes to avoid seeing. Pee-Ah-Bee does it by screwing his nose into his canvas and painting by his sense of touch.

Hiti. Don’t be touchy, Pee-Ah-Bee; your nose was there,—there’s paint on it.

Tee. Hanky-panky does it at arm’s length with his eyes shut,—finding his accidental effects so much better than his scientific ones. New-Lyn does it on sea-air and pilchards,—wears a tarpaulin, and paints with a catspaw in a south-west wind.

Pee. While Tee-Pee’s art consists in always starting brilliantly on some new sort of paper, putting his initials on it and then dropping it for another sort.

Josi. And Mrs. Back-of-de-House does like Mr. Wiowani: as soon as a picture is finished she walks into it.

[Within the house Mrs. Olangtsi’s voice is heard raised in anger, loud and voluble. All slink back to their places. Josi-Mosi shuffles off with his pickings to a corner. Enter Mrs. Olangtsi, followed by Olangtsi. Mrs. Olangtsi threads her way through obsequiously shifted easels towards Tikipu, and fetches him a box on the ear.

[Tikipu winces, but goes on grinding, glancing round apprehensively as she retires. Olangtsi follows at her heels, showing himself a careful understudy of all her masterful ways.

Tee. [Ignoring Olangtsi.] August Lady, we were only correcting Tikipu for his persistent indolence. The commotion which you heard just now was caused by his resistance. We now perceive that correction on our part was superfluous.

Olang. Superfluous? Of course! I can chastise Tikipu for myself—as much as I think necessary:—that is, with assistance from the right quarter. Gentlemen, your immediate and polite attention.

Mrs. O. [To Han-Kin, who endeavours to conceal sign-board.] Yes—you’d better put it out of sight! Any more things like that, and out of this shop you go.

Olang. Shop, as far as you are concerned, my dear; and—of course—shop as far as he is concerned. Understand:—

Mrs. O. Nor I. You’d better begin your lecture instead of wasting time arguing with me.

Olang. Yes, yes—as I was about to remark,—Gentlemen, pupils, and—and others, your immediate and polite attention. The instruction it has so long been my assiduous effort to bestow on your—ah—slowly dawning intelligences, is to-day relaxed when at the stroke of noon we start to celebrate the Feast of Lanterns—the Feast of those lanterns which are so largely supplied from this emporium of the arts.

Olang. Yes—as I was saying—shop. But before we turn to scenes of distraction and relaxation I am here once more to remind you of your high and privileged calling in the traditions of Wiowani, the greatest of all the ancient Masters, whose only surviving follower and representative I am, and whose last and greatest masterpiece here stands before you for your instruction.

Mrs. O. [Going to inner door.] Mee-Mee, bring in the tea! [To Josi.] Oh, you are there, are you? Here, take that rubbish away! [Gives him sign-board.][Pg 18] When’s that money-lender man of yours coming? [Aside.]

Josi. Preshently. He’s going to see de public executions first: den he’ll come.

Josi. Twelve o’clock, of course, before de Feasht commenshes. You’ll see ’em: dey come dish way.

Olang. Ach! you low fellow! That wakes you, does it? That amuses you! Oh, what’s the use of trying to make an artist of you?

Yung. [Sulkily.] I didn’t want to be an artist. I wanted to be a grocer. I was a grocer once. I am still.

Yung. The certificate says so: I’ve got the certificate. See! That says——[He produces certificate.

Olang. It no longer concerns you! In future you will please to let it alone. [Pockets it.

Olang. I didn’t always dislike you! How dare you say that? I dislike your manners—who wouldn’t? I dislike your appearance, I dislike your tastes,[Pg 19] and I dislike your character.... More than that I—I—don’t say.

Mrs. O. What have you taken his certificate for? Let him have it, if it amuses him!

Yung. [Whimpering still.] It was red: it had white letters on it, and it said——

Olang. My dear, do you not know that in this country for a grocer to be also an artist is illegal? and can you not see that if you allow him always to go fancying himself a grocer he will never become a painter?

Mrs. O. No, I can’t; there’s no sense in it! You are always saying what Art wants is imagination. Well—let him practise imagining himself a grocer.

Mee. Will any of yo’ Condescensions tea? Have some? [To Yunglangtsi, who on taking it stops weeping.] t’ank!... Have some?... t’ank! [She goes round offering to all in turn in the same words.] Have some?... t’ank!

Olang. Gone? Gone? I shan’t be able to get them to go—not till I have paid them!

Mrs. O. Yes, you will—there’s the execution. Say you’ll pay them to-night.

Mrs. O. Say it again! If they don’t believe you, you can shout it; if they still don’t believe you—whisper it.

Mee. Mos’ hon’ble! only to make it go de whole way roun’—not to waste it.

Mrs. O. Take it away! Go and get my shoes ready, and my big sunshade, so that I can get out before the shops shut. [Exit Mee-Mee.] Tikipu, as soon as you’ve done what you are at, take round those lanterns; the labels are all on[Pg 21] them. Don’t leave them at the wrong doors; and mind, whatever they say, you’re to wait for the money.

Mrs. O. Now, Olangtsi, you can get on with your lecture, and be done with it before I come back.

Olang. Gentlemen, your immediate and polite attention.... Where was I? What had I got to?

New. ‘Wait for the money’ was Eloquence’s last hopeful remark. It is what we are all doing now.

Lil. Mr. Olangtsi, we do not want your lecture! We want our wages: those wages which, Apology begs to point out, are in honourable arrears.

Olang. Of course, of course! Well, you shall have your money. [They extend their palms.] Do you think that I am not going to pay you?

Tee. It will then be the Feast, during which, as[Pg 22] Affluence is no doubt honourably aware, no legal debt is recoverable. Mr. Olangtsi, labour itself is pleasing to us, but the needful is also necessary. How can we feast if our pockets be empty?

Pee. By to-night Mrs. Back-of-the-House will have returned. Considerate Master, it makes a difference: before you we can uplift the voice of complaint which at the blast of her nostrils becomes dumb.

Han. [After gathering the approval of the others.] We accept. But as an honourable precaution—since in the meanwhile Mrs. Back-of-the-House may have returned—we will save Scrub-and-run-errands the trouble of delivering those lanterns. We will deliver them ourselves—and collect the money!

[Tikipu is set upon. He holds the lanterns over his head. His arm is dragged down.

Olang. But, gentlemen, this will be very awkward for me! I consider it a most—a most ungentlemanly proceeding! When my wife hears of it she will——

Mrs. O. Tikipu, bring on those lanterns and call a coolie. I’ll see to them myself. [Exit Tikipu with lanterns.] Oh, so the lecture’s finished, is it? Well, then, you’d better all get on with your work; and you, Olangtsi, you come with me!... You can all go at twelve.

Enter Mee-Mee. She clears away cups, looking
inquiringly at each student as she does so.

Mee. What for you want to spend money? You[Pg 24] talk, you walk, you run about and you play, you sing and you dance. Dat evellyt’ing to make you happy—in de worl’.

Mee. You sing about yo’self. All de worl’ sing about itself: how nice to be oneself. Dat not true? I sing—I show you! [She prepares centre of stage for dance and song.] Dis goin’ to be velly beautiful, but it cost not’ing! Dere’s a river; dere’s a lily; an’ dis is me—and dere is you all lookin’ like ducks on de water. Yes.... Now!

[Speaks.] Lill’ golden lily! Ah, ho! [She picks the flower and puts it into her hair.] Dat’s all you’ll hear about it dis time. Wish you so happy Feast! Goo’-bye!

Yung. [Awaking.] Who was making that beastly row? [Drums of execution-procession are heard.] What’s that?

[Exeunt all, except Tikipu, in great haste.
[Tikipu throws himself forward over the stand where he has been grinding, and buries his face in his arms. Enter Mee-Mee: she advances sympathetically, but timidly.

Mee. Tiki.... Tikipu.... Have dey been beating you again? Eh? [Goes up to him.] Tiki, what is you clying for? [Touches him.] You clying?

Tiki. [Rousing himself with an effort.] No, I wasn’t crying, Mee-Mee; I was only asleep.... Crying! Ha! [He gets up.] Every one gone?

Mee. Yes ... dere’s de to-be-made-dead men jus’ gone by!... Oh, hear! Oh, see! [She runs to door and peeps out. Tikipu crosses to picture and sits gazing at it.] Oh, look, Tiki! dere’s a big pig lying asleep out in de street! All de people go by—he not care—he sleep.

Mee. Oh ... you wicked! Hee, hee, hee! Yes!—he Yunglangsti—just dat!... [To the pig outside.] Say! You waitin’ for yo’ little wife to come? Plaps she mally some one else while you waitin’, eh? Grrr! Grrrr! [She shuts door.] Hee, hee, hee, hee! You don’t like Yunglangtsi?

Mee. Mm-yah! When he sleep he seem velly nice. Me not like him, plaps, if he wake too much!... Tiki! you ’sleep, too?... Say?—you sittin’ up all las’ night?

Mee. [Nods.] M’m ... she know: she lie awake an’ watch de light, den she go to sleep—plaps: den she wake.... De light still dere.... Tiki! what de matter wid you? [Shakes him.] Is you in love?

Tiki. [Rousing himself.] In lo.... Oh! it’s no use telling you, Mee-Mee; you wouldn’t understand. You are only a woman.

Mee. H’m.... Onl’.... Dat velly big only! ... dat half de worl’.... What is yo’self?... Only a man! You isn’t quite a man yet—else you never say foolish t’ing like dat!... ‘Only!’

Tiki. Ah, well! I mean it’s a secret, something you don’t know anything about. There are many mysteries in the world, Mee-Mee. This one is mine.

Mee. Me got seclet too; one gleat big seclet! And oh—so nice!... One you not know, Tiki ... eh?... Man dat sol’ me know ... man dat bought me know. Nobody else know at all.... Me velly vallable!

Tiki. [Indifferently.] Oh, I daresay!... Here! Mee-Mee! stay as you are! [Takes up drawing-board from Yunglangtsi’s easel.] I’ll do your portrait. This is Yunglangtsi’s, there’s nothing on it. He’ll think he did it in his sleep.

Mee. No—say not’ing like dat!—Me bought wife for dat man’s son to mally. Not nice thought dat, eh, what?

Mee. H’m, dat my lill’ seclet! Though me got no money left, me born under Star. Star say,—man dat mally me gleat artis’. He no artis’ now, eh? He only got to mally me—den he become! See?

Tiki. Oh! So that is why he always sits idle and never works? It’s all going to be done for him?

Mee. Evellybody velly particular. Me not velly particular. Gleat artis’ not velly good husband, me t’ink.

Tiki. Oh yes! Why not? Look at Mr. Olangtsi! He’s a very good husband, in a way.

Tiki. No: he married under an eclipse, I fancy. Only don’t you say I said so. There! that’s finished now.

Tiki. Don’t you tell, mind! Now off with you! We’ll leave it here for Yunglangtsi. [Starts tidying up.] Some one’s coming, Mee-Mee.

Josi. Any one in?... Come in, Coshi.... Dere’sh only de boy! Take a look at de furniture now you’ve got de chance. Dat’s de picture—over dere.... And don’t forget you give me ten per shent on what you make from de introduction, Coshi.

Cosi. What’s the good of your being my brother, when you are so shabby I can’t own you.

Josi. Ugh! Dere ain’t much to choose between you and me for shabbiness, Coshi; I’ve got a shabby coat, but you’ve got a shabby shoul!... How much did you shay?

Cosi. Seems genuine enough, but I wouldn’t give three hundred yen for dat. Dat style’s gone out of fashion now.

Cosi. She’d be a good security, she would. In three years’ time she’d be a good bargain for me.... [To Tikipu derisively.] Does dat—dat gel belong to you, too?

Mrs. O. Oh, you’ve come earlier than you said. Well, have you told him what we want? Here, [to Tikipu, who is showing too much interest], you can go and wait outside.

Josi. Mr. Cosi-Mosi—name fifty per shent de same, but no relation. Go on—you tell him what you want.

Cosi. Have I got it? Yesh—you haven’t: dat’s de point! Next point—have you got anything dat’ll cover it?

Olang. Understand, that is a most valuable picture! I would not part from it for any sum you like to name!

Cosi. I wouldn’t like to name any sum. It’s out of date; and it’s in a bad state of preservation.

Cosi. Dat’s what I mean: its been over-preserved. It ought to have been destroyed long ago.... Have you got nothing better dan dat to raise money on?

Mrs. O. Well, I’ll tell you! Seven years ago his future was foretold from the stars. In three years from now he’ll have become the greatest of living artists.

Mrs. O. No, I can’t,—and for a good enough reason, too. Every picture he paints he sells right away.

Cosi. Very good. Den when he’s got a piece to sell I’ll call again and look at it.... Good morning.

Olang. [Suddenly catching sight of the drawing.][Pg 33] Stop!... Look—look here, my dear. This is most extraordinary! Here is something that has not been sold.

Enter Yunglangtsi. Making gesture of execution with his hand, he shuffles in chuckling.

Yung. Phit! Phit! Ah ha! I’ve been to the executions, mother. Three of them were hanged, and two had their heads cut off! They did make such funny faces! Phit!

Olang. How could he have done it? Why, it’s—it’s wonderful!... When did you do this?

Olang. The Star! The Star! It is the beginning of the Event. This day three years it will come true!

Mrs. O. [Aside.] Don’t be a fool! He never did that. It was one of the others.

Cosi. Here, about dish money; dat little gal—why’ve you said nothing about her? She belong to you, eh?

Yung. Mee-Mee belongs to me: you may take Mee-Mee, if you’ll give me back my certificate!

Cosi. Well, make a security of her and you shall have de money—wid de other securities too, mind you! Dere’s no knowing: she might die.

Olang. If before this day three years Mee-Mee goes out of our hands unmarried——

Mrs. O. She won’t.... Isn’t this day three years the very day? Before we let her go—she’ll be married.

Cosi. All right: den now let’s get it into form. [Puts on spectacles.] T’ree hundred yen for t’ree years at twenty per cent—as from to-day.

Cosi. Count it out, Josi; you’ll find it dere.... [Aside.] It’s de exact amount, Josi; you need only[Pg 35] pretend to count it. [Cosi-Mosi begins to fill up form. Josi-Mosi, disappointed of pickings, counts money.] De first shecurity is de gel—which is your own property?—Name?

Cosi. Mee-Mee,—to be handed over on demand if the loan is not repaid with all interest due—dis day t’ree year;—dat is de Feast of Lanterns.... De second shecurity is de picture—your own property?—Entitled?

Cosi. Third shecurity ... all furniture and household effects, private and professional, belonging to Mr. Olangtsi.... You call yourself an artist, eh?

Cosi. Artist ... of ... so ... so ... so.... Date, de ... yes. Dere! Dat’s all right! Now, if you sign dis, I give you de money.

Olang. But if by any chance I should be unable to repay,—then you take all that I have?

Cosi. No, I don’t. De girl and de picture togedder will cover de amount. If de girl should die ... well, of course, if de girl should die ... den you won’t be so well off.

Olang. I deliver this as my act and deed:—and I—I wash my hands of all responsibility in the matter!

Mrs. O. I hope you’ve brought it in silver? Ah, yes. Because there’s the week’s wages to be paid to-night.

Olang. Honourable good-day. Condescend to over-eat yourself, and greatly oblige.

Mrs. O. Now, after this, you’d better give up painting pictures that won’t sell. It’s no use burning your candle at both ends if you can’t make them meet.

Josi. Yesh, he was burning his candle last night! Got de picture finished, eh? You might have thrown dat into de shecurity as well.

Josi. Oh, ah! We wash to pretend we didn’t know. All right ... de candle was burning to amuse itself, I shuppose!

Josi. Last night. When I went to bed dere was a light, ... when I got up dere was a light. Now, Honourable Mrs. Back-of-the-House, dere’s my little commission, please, for de introduction.... How much did we shay it was to be?

Mrs. O. [Putting down money.] There’s five for you; its either that or none.

Tikipu re-enters and begins clearing the studio.
The picture catches his eye: he stands motionless
gazing at it.

Tee. And so, Mee-Mee [takes box from Lilong], here’s a little present for you which self-sacrificing Generosity has been long intending.

Mee. [Offering box.] Graciously to inspect Humbleness invite! [They help themselves in turn without scruple or limit.] Me hope dey quite good enough—to yo’ taste?

Tee. Very good indeed, Mee-Mee.... Thank you ... yes, as I was saying, we’ve been paid.

Lil. We are going to have him carried in a chair of state—quite grand, like a mandarin.

Tee. Till dawn, Mee-Mee; till dawn! Then the lanterns go out, and we all run home like cats.

Hiti. Like cats, Mee-Mee, holding on to each other’s tails: for some of us won’t be able to walk straight by then! Come, pussy cats....

[They imitate a cat’s fight, and dance off, holding each other’s pig-tails. Meanwhile Yunglangtsi has entered, dull and ponderous. He squats disconsolately on a cushion and sits cross-legged, looking at Mee-Mee with a sort of sulky possessiveness.

Yung. I was made to, Mee-Mee: mother made me ... so did my father.... I don’t belong to myself, Mee-Mee.... I’m a human sacrifice.

Mee. Dey look mos’ mos’ beautiful!... You jus’ like a big lantern all on fire!... When you go in de procession—all de little bat-moths and bobby-howlers fly up agen you—so!—and burn deyselves fo’ dey know where dey are! Hee, hee!

Mee. Ya-as, me velly silly—me know dat! Not evellybody so gleat wise person as Mr. Yunglangtsi. H’m? H’m?

Yung. Well, I don’t then. I dislike you. There’s no one I dislike more. Shall I tell you why?

Yung. It’s because you’ve robbed me—yes, you, you shabby little interloper! I’m not the man I was once: you don’t know anything about me. Till you came here with that confounded horoscope of yours I was happy—I’d reason to be, then.... D’you know what I was? [She shakes her head.] A grocer! I suppose you don’t know what that[Pg 45] means? Well, it means sitting in a great shop where people come to buy, and giving orders to everybody. And all round you there are barrels of oil, with taps that run, and casks of sugar, and tea by the ton; and bins of rice, and boxes of spice, and everything nice as nice can be! And a crushing-machine where things are ground, and the samples all have a different sound. And you plunge your arms in flour or meal; and if you can’t see what it is—you can feel!

Yung. And soap, Mee-Mee! Oh, there’s a fortune to be made out of soap alone. There was a man once, Mee-Mee, who spent three years inventing the name of a soap.... And when he’d invented it he turned it into a syndicate and sold it. He sold it for twenty thousand yen.

Yung. Yes, the name. What the soap was didn’t matter so long as it had a good name. That’s real art, Mee-Mee: and that’s what being a grocer means.... That’s what I was once!

Yung. Yes, I’d got my full grocer’s certificate: I’d taken five years to earn it, and I was so proud of it! I used to wear it round my neck so that every one could see.... It had white letters on a red ground—and it said ... [he breaks down]. And[Pg 46] all because of you and your Star, they’ve gone and taken it off me!... I tell you they’d given up trying to turn me into an artist: they’d found it was no good. And then you came, you, you, you superfluous little pig!—and now I’ve got to wait till your beastly Star comes round again—three years,—and then I’ve got to marry you and become a fool of a painter, when I might have been a grocer if you’d only stayed away!

Yung. My father doesn’t understand me, Mee-Mee.... No one understands me.... You don’t understand me, either.

Yung. Thank you, Mee-Mee.... I think you do understand me a little. [He begins chobbling.] When I was a grocer I used to have more sweets than I could eat: but now [chobbles] I never get enough!... I don’t hate you now as much as I did, Mee-Mee.... Have one?

[She grovels and advances on all fours. Having [Pg 47] received it she takes opportunity, while Yung-Rlangtsi is exploring the box for remains, to throw it away, and wipe her hand.

Yung. It’s very hard, Mee-Mee, when one has got a sorrow like mine, ever to forget it.

Yung. It spoils my appetite, Mee-Mee: it upsets my digestion ... sometimes it even prevents me from sleeping.... I haven’t slept ... I haven’t slept since.... You there, Mee-Mee?

Crier. [Without in the distance.] Lights, lights, lights! People, people, people! Light your lanterns all!

Crier. [Without, going by with rattle of wand on[Pg 48] wall.] Lights, lights, lights! People, people, people! Light your lanterns all!

Tiki. Oh, look here, Mee-Mee! When they’ve gone, you come and clean up for me, and I’ll—well, I’ll show you—something I’m doing.

[Tikipu opens door wide; Students re-enter with chair and bearers. ‘Lights, lights, lights,’ etc.

Mrs. O. Let him alone! He can go just as well asleep if he likes! There, put him in! Then you can start; we’ll follow presently.

Yung. Oh, mother, I’ve just had such a dream—such a dream! I dreamt I was a grocer again.... I dreamt that I....

Olang. Ah, the low lout! Grocer indeed! How shall I ever make an artist of a thing like that?

Mrs. O. You won’t; so don’t worry yourself! That’s Heaven’s affair, not yours. As he’s got to wait, he may as well do it sleeping as waking. You can’t hurry a comet by treading on its tail, so you’d better leave it alone!... Mee-Mee, you go to bed at once.... Tikipu, take away those oil-cans!

[To Olangtsi.] Now, then, we are going, you understand;—I shall go out that way, you go this.[Pg 50] By the time you come back, I’ll manage to be in the house somewhere. If you want me, call me: only mind you don’t come too soon, or we shan’t catch him!...

Now then [to Tikipu], as soon as you’ve cleaned up here you go to bed too. Put out those lights—you only want one! Olangtsi, mind you lock the street-door! I’ll go out the other way and meet you. [To Tikipu.] Be quick, put out those lights!

Mee. Oh, Tiki, she gone! She took de key; and when she go out she lock de door!... We all alone, you and me!

Tiki. All right! There, run along, put out those lights for me! Be quick, you’ve got plenty to do.

Tiki. Those are the bands going up to the Temple.... That’s where the procession starts. Hurry, Mee-Mee! You know you were told to go to bed.

Mee. Me?... Me stay to help you, Tiki.... [Looks over his shoulder.] Dat de seclet?

Tiki. Stealing it? No, silly! I’m only copying it,—just one little bit of it at a time.

Tiki. Hah! that’s all you can see! Ah, if only it were! [He begins mixing colours.] I’ve been thinking, Mee-Mee, of what you said to-day, about having to marry Yunglangtsi....

Tiki. Well, you know, Mee-Mee, you mayn’t like him—but it must be a fine thing to be the wife of a great artist.

Tiki. You’d hear people say such fine things about him—about his pictures, I mean.

Mee. Ugh! He never tell dem not’ing ’bout dat!... He keep dat to himself fo’ fear dat some wise man come an’ steal me; an’ den me teach him to paint better dan he can.

Tiki. Ah! that shows how little you know. Now I daresay you think that is nothing but a piece of rice-paper, or silk, or linen, with paint spread over it?

Well, now I’ve told you, and how much of it do you understand, I wonder! There! Off you run to bed, like a good little girl. I’m going to be busy. Good-night.... Why aren’t you gone, Mee-Mee?

Mee. Mrs. High-Mighty tell you to go to bed,—you sit up still: why not Mee-Mee sit up too?

Mee. Plaps you not de only person got something to do.... You not want me: plaps me want meself. [Music passes. Mee-Mee moves to it.] Oh, de music!... Say, s’all I sing to you?

Tiki. [Absent-mindedly.] Yes, ... oh yes ... that ought to be ... quite ... amusing.

Tiki. Oh! how can I tell, Mee-Mee! I haven’t got eyes in the back of my head. Can’t you see I’m busy?

Mee. Dat what all de wicked people say!—Dey say dey’m busy:—dey mean dey don’ care!... You don’ care.... Don’ t’ink Mee-Mee care,—neither.... Sure not!... [Goes and looks maliciously over his shoulder.] You got dat drawn—all wrong!

Mee. [Laughing to herself.] Don’ know. She got no eyes in de back of her head!

Mee. Ugh! [Relenting and turning to sweet flattery.] Ah! say, isn’ dat pletty—what?

Tiki. Pretty! Mee-Mee, don’t you ever dare to call anything that I paint pretty! It’s only quite silly things that are pretty:—coloured toys, and wax dolls, and paper kites, and fat babies, so long as they don’t cry,—and foolish little girls who sit and chatter, but know nothing about Art!... Oh! they are all as pretty as you like ... but they are all littler than the littlest thing I ever mean to do ... so there!

Mee. M’m? ... say dat?... Den you know not’ing, not’ing! You not never be big till you been little first—littler dan me—littler dan de littlest baby dat ever cly fo’ its mammy to come! Yes! ‘Foolish chattling little gels what don’ know not’ing ’bout Art’—dey’s bigger inside dan you know! Dey’s bigger pains—dey’s bigger hearts—dey’s bigger upside-down inside-out altogedder dan anyt’ing you know ’bout. So dere! What you bin done drawn dere have got no eyes in de back of its head,—dat’s what de matter wid dat! It’s too busy ’bout itself!... So’s Mee-Mee,—too busy.... Me goin’ now.... Goo’-night!

Tiki. She’s right! She’s right! That chattering little idiot is right!... Yes, it’s too busy! It’s all too flat, too tight! O Wiowani, if only[Pg 57] I had you, here at my hand, to teach me what to do!

[Procession passes, with lights, music, song—‘China’s burning, etc.,’ and the multitudinous babble of a festive crowd. The popping of fireworks is heard, sticks are rattled along the wall. Tikipu paints on, absorbed in his art. The crowd and its noises trickle away.

[Olangtsi creeps forward and peers over Tikipu’s shoulder. At sight of the drawing he gives a start of astonishment and utters a cry of rage.

[Tikipu jerks up his hands, drops his brush, and turns to find himself discovered; he attempts to conceal his drawing by reversing it upon his knees.
[Olangtsi takes Tikipu by the scruff and shakes him. Tikipu lets go the drawing.

[He tears the drawing into fragments and throws them down. Tikipu screams with anguish, and falls face-forward, clutching the torn pieces.

[Exit into house.
[For a time Tikipu lies sobbing. Presently he draws towards him the torn fragments of his drawing, and falls down upon them with a cry of despair.

[In the picture the lantern begins to glow: under its rays the grave and benignant form of Wiowani is discovered seated. Tikipu raises his head, for he hears in music the call of his soul. He catches sight of Wiowani and starts to his knees with an exclamation of wonder. Wiowani lifts his hand in beckoning. Tikipu rises and advances slowly in trembling ecstasy. Wiowani reaches forward and takes Tikipu by the hand. With a long-drawn sigh of relief and rest Tikipu is drawn into the picture. The lantern fades. Wiowani and Tikipu disappear.
[In the distance is heard the Chorus of approaching Students.

Mee. Tiki! Tiki! Dey come back! He in dere talking to Mrs. Back-of-de-House! Go hidee—quick!... Tiki, where is you gone to?

[She runs about and looks. Outside the Chorus of returning Students is heard again. They are evidently drunk.

Tee. [Without.] If you want to go to bed, we must tosh you and turn you! Up with him! Whup!!

Mee. [Coming on fallen easel and torn paper.] Ah, say! Who done dat? Who done dat wicked t’ing?

Yung. They did, Mee-Mee! When I said ‘Put me[Pg 67] down!’ those devils, they tossed me! But they all fell down, Mee-Mee, and then I was on the top.

Tee. Hon’ble Yunglang-shy wantsh you to put him to bed, Mee-Mee. I wantsh,—I wantsh to be put to bed too, Mee-Mee! Not de shame bed—don’t you go making a mishtake!—No—I wouldn’t——

Hiti. She’s crying, because she’s finished all those sweets we gave her.... But you mustn’t have any more, Mee-Mee, they’d be bad for you!

Han. Sheen Tikipu? Who wantsh to shee Tikipu? Mother of Mountains, don’t ashk such ’diculous questions!

Lil. Don’t shay he wasn’t here momen’ ago. If he wash here momen’ ago—that’s why he isn’t here now; momen’ ago’sh over.

Tee. Meet him in the shtreet! Why should we meet him in the shtreet? He didn’t ashk us to meet him in the shtreet! Why should we meet him in the shtreet if he didn’t ask us to meet him in the shtreet?

Hiti. Yesh, go! Don’t shtand talking—go! Go to the top of the house—go to the bottom of the[Pg 69] house, go to Mrs. Back-of-the-House, and go to the Devil! [Mrs. Olangtsi cuffs him.] Shan’t help you to look for him any more now.

Nau. [Returning from house.] He’s not in the house! Mrs. Tip-top-shtory-teller has made a mistake.

Lil. [From cellar-trap.] He’s not down here—he’s not—I’m sure he’s not down——

Olang. [To Tee-Pee.] Have you seen——? [Tee-Pee catches New-Lyn by hands, and pulls him down headforemost.] Have you seen——? [To New-Lyn.]

Hiti. [Clinging to door-post and waving his hand aimlessly.] He’s not out here!

Olang. Why, the certificate, of course! What else? Your son’s certificate of grocery! Ah, fool that I was! Fool!

Yung. Boohooh! My beautiful—my beautiful certificate. You let him take it because you didn’t want me to be a grocer! I hate you, father! Boohooh! Mother, take me to bed!

Han. No—he’s not there! Nothing’s there! ’Shtificate’s not there, either!

Mrs. O. There, there, don’t fret! We’ll get you another, just like it. There, don’t cry!

Han., Naut., and Pee. [Link arms and cross the stage staggering.] My—my—my beautiful ’Shtificate.... I hate you, father! Boohooh! Good-night!...

[Mee-Mee holds up to Olangtsi torn fragments of picture. He strikes them down with a cry of rage.

Mee. Oh! dat kill Tiki! Dat kill—dat make him hate evellybody! Hate me now, always, always! He never speak to me! He never look at me again. He never come back—now. He gone! He gone!... Oh Tiki, dey broken yo’ heart all to pieces! Mee-Mee know dat! Mee-Mee understand!

Mee. No, dey all asleep—so airly!... Say! you blought dat lill’ t’ing I tol’ you?

Mee. Ugh!... Meself of course!... Me sleep in here.... All de big live-long rats come in de night and wake me! Dey run on my toes,—dey sit on my face. Not nice t’ing dat, eh?

Mee. Yah! [Fumbles in sleeve.] Dere now! [Gives him the money.] No say dat all right?

Mee. Oh! dat all! Dat not e-nough! Dere’s plenty twenty hundred rats in here.... Take a lot of killing, dey will!

Josi. So dey put you to shleep in here now, eh? Dat boy Tikipu never been sheen again, I shuppose?

Josi. M’m. Reashon I ashk wash becosh dish is de very day he went—t’ree yearsh ago. Feasht of Lanternsh it wash. I’ve a reashon for remembering de date.

Mee. Ssh! It Mr. Olangtsi ... he velly often come like dat—to de picture. He not know anyt’ing about it when he wake up! Ssh!

Olang. Ugh! Ugh!... Yes, yes ... where was I?... I don’t want you, my dear!... Go away!... You ... you wouldn’t understand!... Gen ... gentle ... gentlemen pupils ... your immediate and polite attention!... On this very painful occasion, when I address you for the last time ... and this great picture of Wiowani’s which here stands before you ... for the last time ... I ask you, I ask you, for the last time ... your kind attention, gentlemen!... No, no, I am not forgetting myself, my dear, at all!... I am remembering what I once was, ... before you ... before you came and robbed me!... Yes, you did—you robbed me!... like a thief in the night: first you robbed me of my sleep, then of my liberty, then of my conscience ... and then, then of my art! Tikipu found out that for me!... And now everything is gone!

Olang. What thief, what great thief in the night taught you to steal—like that?... Oh, thief, thief, little thief! give it to me, give it to me, I say.... There! There! ... that finishes it! ... that’s done, Tikipu, that’s done!

Olang. Don’t cry, Tikipu, it’s no use your crying[Pg 76] like that!... Ah, that’s good, that’s good!—but you mustn’t paint like that any more ... it’s not ... it’s not possible. She won’t let you ... it doesn’t pay.... And if it doesn’t pay, it’s no good!

Josi. No, he’sh right dere: if it doesn’t pay, it’sh no good! You know, little Mish Mee-Mee, you going to have a new master to-day?

Mee. Den you know velly foolish t’ing, Mr. Josi-Mosi, if you t’ink dat! Me not have no new master! So dere!... Dis kill so many rat: it will kill me too!

Mee. H’m, ya-ah!... Oh ye’es! Almost quite awake now!... You go!... You gott’n yo’ money—you go!

Mrs. O. Don’t want it open! Shut it! [Looks round suspiciously.] Who’s been in here?

Mee. It was a big rat dat would’n’ go out! Me told him you comin’: den he run on his hin’ legs, jus’ like a man!

Mrs. O. Here! Begin to get yourself dressed, or you’ll be late!... There are your things.... [She lays bridal costume on chair.] Now attend[Pg 78] to me, and learn how a Chinese bride should behave.

Mrs. O. In a quarter of an hour—are you attending?—the bridesmen and the bearers will be here with the palanquin. As soon as you hear them outside you are to run in there and lock the door.

Mrs. O. Yes; that door: there isn’t any other that I know of. Don’t lock it so much that they can’t force it without breaking it! I don’t want to be paying for repairs afterwards, you aren’t worth it!

Mrs. O. Open? Fine sense of modesty you’ve got! Please to recollect that you are a Chinese bride; you do as I tell you! Pull up that blind! Then, when they fetch you out, you must struggle,—d’you hear? Kick, bite, scratch; only mind you don’t tear the dress! Do it decently: give one of them a scratch on his face where it can be seen: that’ll be enough. If you show too much fight it looks like having too high an opinion of yourself. When they’ve put you into the palanquin and locked you in,—then you can do as you like.

Mrs. O. Remember—the bride’s procession is to start at sunrise. Mind you are ready!

Mrs. O. Not if I say it’s the time you are to be ready by. When you want your bride-crown pinned on, come to me!

Mee. My blide-clown? Oh yes!... Say!... When dey put me in my lill’ chair-palanquin, will all de blin’s be down? No one to see me?

Mrs. O. Of course not. Who wants to see you? Here, go on and get dressed! You are wasting time.

Mee. Yes: me wasting time! [Pulls up blind.] Silly dat!... Nobody want to see me?... No ... nobody! Oh! run, Mee-Mee! dere’s de worl’ wakin’! [She opens door and peeps out.] Oh, gleat, big worl’, wake up!—Mee-Mee say good-bye to you! Oh, de lazy sun, all down dere, you not come up yet!—Mee-Mee say good-bye to you!... And nex’ time dat he come, you tell Tiki, you tell Tiki—Mee-Mee gone jus’ ’cause she couldn’t wait fo’ him—any mo’!... Dat’s all!... You all been velly, velly nice to me!... Good-bye.

[She shuts the door, draws out phial and stands trembling, facing the thought of death. Crossing the stage she comes on the bridal array left by Mrs. Olangtsi.

Oh! pletty, eh? Oh! Say! isn’t dat nice? What?... Quick, quick, Mee-Mee! [She[Pg 80] begins to robe herself.] Yes, quick! Yes, quick! Yes, quick! [Puts on shoes.] Lef’, right, get dem all on! Dere! dat all right, eh? [Opens toilet-box and gets out mirror and paints.] Now, Mee-Mee, you got to make yo’self mos’ beautiful—because to-day, you say—you say you goin’ to be mallied to Tiki. And dat make you so glad, dat make you so happy, dat you laugh, an’ laugh, an’ laugh, till all de tears come into yo’ eyes! You velly silly little gel, you! [She dries her eyes and takes up mirror.] Look at yo’self! Hee-hee! [She turns the glass about and knocks on the back of it.] Mee-Mee? Mee-Mee? You round dere? You round dere?... Right in dere? [Turns it.] ’Course I is!—She in dere all de time! Catch her not? [She starts playing bo-peep with herself.] No ... no ... she dere, I say she dere!... He say once—he say, ‘silly lill’ gel know not’ing ’bout art!’ Ah, ha! Himself he know not’ing, not’ing—at all!... Himself!... Tiki, dat went away and never come back!

[Looks at herself in glass, and continues talking.] Only jus’ now it don’ show—dat’s all why she can’t see it. [She puts out light. Within the house are heard the voices of Mr. and Mrs. Olangtsi raised in altercation, and Yunglangsti crying, ‘I don’t want to get up! I won’t get up!’ As Mee-Mee listens her resolution is formed.] Don’ you waste time, Mee-Mee!—don’ you waste time! Soon dey come—to take you away from yo’self. You say not’ing to dat. You only be here—let dem find you here, eh? Let dem see you not belong to dem at all. You belong ... all ... to ... yo’self ... because Tiki have fo’gotten you! [She takes phial of poison from her breast.] Goo’-bye, Mee-Mee!... Goo’-bye ... goo’....

[While she is speaking the picture glows slowly into life. Under the rays of the lantern Wiowani is discovered seated, benignant of aspect. He plucks three times upon the [Pg 82]strings of his guitar. At the third sound Mee-Mee’s attention is arrested: she shuffles the poison out of sight and turns her head.

Mee. [Reluctantly.] Well ... me’d bin hopin’ dey forget.... Dey not!... Las’ night de Mistless say—‘Mee-Mee!’ (like dat!) ‘you gettin’ yo’self leddy to mally to-mollow—first t’ing?’... [Her voice begins to quaver.] Me gettin’ meself leddy now.... Plesently she come: plesently she say—‘You wife, you not lill’ gel any mo’!’

Mee. Me got lill’ bottle of ‘come-wid-me’ in here! Hee-hee, hee-hee!... Me take it—so: me say to my beautiful new husban’—‘Yo’ health!—yo’ velly good health!’ Den me drink. Den me say—‘How nice!’ Den me die! Den he lef’ widower.... Oh! poo’ man!

Mee. Ugh! Dat velly easy t’ing, if he really want me.... Me say here to myself sometimes, ‘Now, t’ink, Mee-Mee, t’ink Tiki come all back again! T’ink dat you am his wife!... Den he sit like dis, and he paint: an’ you—just sit-an’-wait! Plesently he paint—all wrong: got to be closs with somebody—of course! Den he closs wid you! an’ you—jus’ sit-an’-wait! Den he paint ’bominable: got to beat somebody—beat you, eh? Den de picture come—all right!... Say, isn’t dat de way? What?

Mee. It all inside of me!... Dat kind of t’ing come all of itself—me t’ink!

Mee. [Quietly surprised.] Say!... Funny picture dat! Mee-Mee, you been asleep?

[She skurries round, collects her toilet-materials, and runs into house. Far away bridal music is heard. Within the picture goes a murmur of soft music. Wiowani reappears, leading Tikipu by the hand. Tikipu steps out of the picture as one walking in his sleep.

[Tikipu has turned slowly away, gazing at his hands in a daze of grief and humility. Wiowani vanishes into the picture.

Re-enter Mee-Mee, wearing her bridal crown. Tikipu continues to move away.

Tiki. Why, Mee-Mee, is that you? What have you come for? It’s ... it’s very early, isn’t it?... Is any one up? Mee-Mee, what’s the matter? You are changed! What has happened since yesterday?

Tiki. It was ... it was yesterday, wasn’t it? Mee-Mee,—how long have I been away?

Mee. You ’shamed of yo’self, Tiki, eh? What for you come back now? H’m? Los’ yo’ way, I suppose!

Tiki. Yes, Mee-Mee, ... it’s strange!... I’ve ... I’ve lost my way!... Three years! And you are not married yet, Mee-Mee?

Mee. What dat matter to you, Mr. Tiki?... No ... not yet.... P’laps dat why you come ... to see me—mallied!... Well, den,—you jest in time!

Tiki. [Realising for the first time Mee-Mee’s bridal array.] Mee-Mee ... there’s something ... I ... don’t understand.

Tiki. It’s gone! Something’s gone,—something without which I can’t live! Gone!

Mee. Ah! I know what all de matter! I know! Dere! [She brings out Tikipu’s shoes from hiding-place.] You lef’ yo’ gleat big shoes behin’! I keep dem quite safe all de time!

[She kneels, taps first one foot, then the other, and puts the shoes on his feet. He still stands dazed.

Mee. Won’ Mee-Mee do? Won’ Mee-Mee do? [He stands disregarding her.] You not want me?... You not want me, Tiki?... Goo’-bye.... I’m going to be mallied to-day ... yes, to somebody! My Star say to-day, only to-day! ... ol’ maid if I don’ mally to-day!... Goo’-bye! Ah! Ah!

[She breaks into sudden tremblings and sobbings. Tikipu turns and looks at her earnestly: round her as she stands the light gradually grows bright. She stretches her hands pleadingly towards him for the last time.

Tiki. Mee-Mee! Mee-Mee! What have you done to yourself? Don’t look at me like that! Don’t look at me like that! Your eyes are beautiful, Mee-Mee! Shut them or I shall go blind!

Tiki. My whole life is a want, Mee-Mee! If you come with me you will lose everything!

Tiki. Poor!—poorer than the poorest you have known. Look under this ... this robe.... [Bewildered, he finds that he is wearing a strange garment.] ... I have only my old rags. And you——

Tiki. Often I shall neglect you, Mee-Mee: sometimes I may even forget you! For there is something I love more than you! If you come with me, it is to help me to find eyes more wonderful than your own, and a mistress whose bond-slave you also shall be!

Tiki. I have never seen her, Mee-Mee. But in your eyes I find the reflection of her face!

[As she clings to him, the song of the bridal procession is heard approaching. They start and listen.

[Enter Students and Apprentices, followed by bearers with hooded palanquin, which is set down, propped on stools, in the centre of the stage.

[Meanwhile Tikipu and Mee-Mee have been trying to steal to the street door: as each attempt fails they retreat precipitately. Immediately on exit of Students, Mee-Mee runs across to the door, reverses the key, and locks it from the outside.

Mee. No—not yet! Silly man—make me do it all! How you able to run and hide in all dis? [She pulls off his robe, uncovering the certificate which hangs down his back.] Oh! Tiki, dat what you stole? [Tikipu takes it and stares astonished, presently his wonder changes to laughter.] Tiki! don’ laugh like dat! You wastin’ time!

[Knocking at inner door. Tikipu throws open the street door: the warm hues of dawn stream in.

Nau. [Within.] Look here, New-Lyn, I say! She’s locked us in. Go round the other way.

[By the stairs Students and Bearers come running just as the door falls, broken from its hinges.

Students. She.... Oh, she locked us in! It wasn’t fair! Now was it? It wasn’t what we’d expected. We don’t know where she is! We haven’t seen her!

Where’sh my shecurity? [Furiously.] You were going to rob me, were you? You were going to steal a march on me!

Mrs. O. You shan’t have your money! You’ve stolen the girl yourself—you know you have!

Olang. Yes, they have stolen her! I can see it in their faces! Thieves! Thieves!

Cosi. [Losing all control.] And if I had taken her—I had a right to take her! She was my property! Yes, yes! What right had you to be marrying her to any one? Dat was shtealing, dat was!

Cosi. I’ll sell you! I’ll sell you still! Dere’s de picture, and de furniture!

[At the word ‘picture’ Olangtsi shows perturbation; at the word ‘furniture’ Mrs. Olangtsi.

Olang. No, no! You mustn’t take the picture! That’s mine. Give me time, and I’ll pay!

Cosi. Time? Time? I’ll show you what time is! Here!—you dere outside—in wid you!

You see dat man? Well, he is a signed-on bankrupt; he is on contract to be sold!

[Yunglangtsi, who has been wandering heavy and indifferent from group to group, comes suddenly on his certificate with a cry of rapture.

Yung. Ah!!! [All turn astonished.] Oh! my—my beautiful certificate! Mother! My certificate has come back again!

Cosi. [To Bailiffs.] Dere’s de warrant to date. Clear dem out! Go and call de folk in from de street!

Yung. Oh, mother! Now I needn’t marry Mee-Mee at all, need I? Now I can be a grocer again? Oh!

[Kicks him. Yunglangtsi stays lost in the rapture of his discovery. In the street the Crier is heard crying the sale. Apprentices [Pg 100]and Craftsmen crowd round Mr. and Mrs. Olangtsi. Holding out their hands to be paid, they follow them about.

Josi. Very well; give me de warrant. [Cosi gives it.] I shall shell it less handsomely, dat’sh all!... Yesh, dish shale is going to be an alarming shacrifice, Coshi.... Five per shent!

Josi. Yesh! A shale! Cry it louder!... Great shale of pictures, old furniture, and rattle-traps! Change of business! Amazing bargains! Alarming reductions! Heart-rending sacrifice,—at five per shent! Walk up, walk up, and shee de great shale dat is about to commence!

[Meanwhile the Bailiffs are carrying out the furniture. Mrs. Olangtsi falls upon them, and beats them: she is hustled back, only to return to the charge. Yunglangtsi sits absorbed in the joy of his recovered certificate. Townsfolk crowd in, to a final flourish of the gong.

Josi. Lot number 1. Dis is a picture, gentlemen,—some of you may not know it, but it is a picture.... It is a shelebrated picture; you might not dink so, but it is shelebrated.... It is a picture wid a shtory attached to it; dat makes it an intereshting picture. [Interruption.] What did de gentleman shay?... Quite right; noding else would. As dish is a warrant shale to shatisfy an order of claims it ish not my business to shay anything more dan de truth. It ish my own broder I am shelling dish picture for [consternation of Cosi]; dat’sh why I only take five per shent commission;—my usual charge ish ten. Yesh, Cosi, I’m your broder; I’ve got a shabby coat, but you’ve got a shabby shoul!

[Uproarious amusement among the crowd at Josi’s revelation of relationship; Cosi becomes the butt of jeers and laughter.

Josi. [Raising his voice in victorious derision.] Going—going—at five per shent! Dat’sh right. Now[Pg 102] den, business! Any offer?... Don’t be in a hurry, gentlemen ... take your time! De picture is not going to run away: you can examine it, gentlemen, and shee dat dere is no deception. If dere ever wash any deception it was dree hundred years ago, when de man who painted it ran away from his creditors and pretended dat he had gone into de picture. Dere’sh de shtory for you—all complete.... Well? What offer? Won’t anybody make any offer?

[Olangsti pushes forward to bid; Apprentices and Craftsmen surround him, and hold out their hands, demanding money.

Josi. Ten sen? Somebody offers ten sen. I presume dat he means ten yen? We’ll call it ten yen: de picture’s worth it.

Josi. Very well, ten sen! Going at ten sen! Going at ten sen! A picture dat ish dree hundred years old and still going strong! Now is your chance! Dish will not happen again.

[At the word ‘going’ the picture comes dimly to life. In a veiled indistinctness Wiowani [Pg 103]is seen seated within it. Olangsti sees, and lifting his hands wails despairingly. The crowd stares, stolidly amazed.

Josi. Well?... What for you shtaring at me? I am not de picture! Dere is de picture: a beautiful picture dat shpeaks for itshelf! A real picture,—wid a shtory in it dat may always come true. What? Will nobody give any more? Very well. At ten sen!—for dish time only—going at ten sen! Going, going.... [He turns.] Gone!!!

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Olangtsi	A Master of Arts.
Mrs. Olangtsi (called Mrs. Back-of-the-House)	His Wife.
Yunglangtsi	His Son.
1. Pee-ah-Bee.	Students, Apprentices, and Craftsmen.
2. Han-Kin.
3. Tee-Pee.
4. Hiti-Titi.
5. New-Lyn.
6. Nau-Tee.
7. Li-Long.
Josi-Mosi	A Chinese Jew Rag-and-Bone Merchant.
Cosi-Mosi	His Brother: a Money-lender.
Tikipu	Bottle-washer and General Drudge.
Mee-Mee	A Korean Slave-girl.
Wiowani	An Old Master.
Street-criers, Bailiffs, Bearers, Townsfolk, etc.

Students.	Mangle him!
	Crimp him!
	Dibble his ribs!

Hiti.	[Together.]	Follow science—follow fiddle-sticks—follow its nose!
Pee.		Art can’t follow anything: it’s a law to itself.
Lil.		Art is the handmaid of Religion: Science has nothing whatever to do with it.
New.		Science be....

Tee.	And then—	’Tis a story that needs no heightening—
Han.		Having given us such a frightening—
Hiti.		With her witch-like eyes all whitening—
Lil.		In a flash, with raiment brightening—
Pee.		On our hearts the terror tightening—

NOTE

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ACT I

ACT II

ACT III

Transcriber’s Notes