What I want, since that day—I don’t know if it’s because I was too soaked, but my pockets are dry—you see, which is a pity—what I want—damn—it’s hard to say.
DOCTOR
(putting his hand in his pocket)
Look—say it all the same.
PARISIAN
They say you are embarking for Australia.
DOCTOR
It’s true.
PARISIAN
On the Marco Polo.
DOCTOR
That’s true, too.
PARISIAN
As ship’s doctor.
DOCTOR
As ship’s doctor.
PARISIAN
Well—I said this to myself—Parisian, my lad—you want to see the world, but cannot pay the transportation expenses—you have to go find Doctor Ivans—he has a good heart, a man like no other—indeed! He will get you free passage. And you—during the voyage will serve him—gratis, of course. Damn—if the thing is agreeable to you, Doctor, you will be doing me a proud service.
DOCTOR
That would make you really happy?
PARISIAN
More than your refusal would cause me sorrow.
DOCTOR
Well, my friend, that works with me.
PARISIAN
Really true?
(Melida enters and concerns herself with the tea.)
PARISIAN
Ah! Doctor—if I were a crazy woman, I would kiss you—
(offering his hand)
Ah—Doctor—
(withdrawing his hand)
Pardon—pardon!
DOCTOR
Well—what?
(offering his hand)
PARISIAN
(hiding his hand behind his back)
Never! Never! Never!
DOCTOR
It’s to see if you have fever.
PARISIAN
In that case it’s another matter. Oh, yes—I have a fever—of joy—of—well—what are you putting in my hand, Doctor?
DOCTOR
Me? Nothing.
PARISIAN
A half crown. No—thanks—no—no!
DOCTOR
My friend, it’s to drink my health—and of this child and her sister.
PARISIAN
Really—it’s for that?
DOCTOR
Oh, my God, yes—! Not for anything else.
PARISIAN
If it’s for that, it’s sacred—and it will be done—conscientiously. By the way—when do we leave?
DOCTOR
Hush! Be here at eight o’clock in the evening—with your baggage—you will pass for one of the household.
PARISIAN
What? It’s for tonight.
DOCTOR
Hush! I tell you.
PARISIAN
Ah—I understand. They don’t know this yet in the family. Mum’s the word, Doctor, till tonight.
DOCTOR
Till tonight, my lad.
(Exit the Parisian.)
MELIDA
There you are, Father, we’ve hardly seen you since morning.
DOCTOR
(looking at her)
Yes, and poor child, you’ve profited by my absence—to weep.
MELIDA
It’s not my fault, Father. I am doing what I can! You see my mouth is smiling.
DOCTOR
(pulling out his handkerchief and drying her eyes)
Yes—and your eyes are weeping.
MELIDA
Oh—it’s not for only for me! To follow you, to serve you, to love you everywhere, somewhere—that would be too much joy—! But Williams, Williams, father—
(Williams enters.)
DOCTOR
Williams is a man, my child.
MELIDA
Oh—he’ll die of it—
DOCTOR
(turning and noticing Williams)
No—come tell her that, Williams—come tell her that one doesn’t die for some years of absence—come tell her that hearts truly united always end by being rejoined. Come!
MELIDA
Oh—father—
DOCTOR
Console her—sustain her—be strong, Williams. Tell her I’m getting old—my child—that I have perhaps five or six years—— not more to live. God doesn’t want to take me so soon from two children who have only me in the world and love me so much—but to exercise my profession. Tell her that it’s necessary for me to amass down there in five or six years a little fortune that despite the trouble I took, I haven’t been able to realize here. Tell her that the situation you occupy which pay 125 pounds
