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The Garotters By: William Dean Howells (1837-1920) |
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THE GAROTTERS by William D. Howells
PART FIRST
SCENE I: MRS. ROBERTS; THEN MR. ROBERTS At the window of her apartment in Hotel Bellingham, Mrs. Roberts
stands looking out into the early nightfall. A heavy snow is
driving without, and from time to time the rush of the wind and the
sweep of the flakes against the panes are heard. At the sound of
hurried steps in the anteroom, Mrs. Roberts turns from the window,
and runs to the portiere, through which she puts her head. MRS. ROBERTS: 'Is that you, Edward? So dark here! We ought really
to keep the gas turned up all the time.' MR. ROBERTS, in a muffled voice, from without: 'Yes, it's I.' MRS. ROBERTS: 'Well, hurry in to the fire, do! Ugh, what a storm!
Do you suppose anybody will come? You must be half frozen, you poor
thing! Come quick, or you'll certainly perish!' She flies from the
portiere to the fire burning on the hearth, pokes it, flings on a
log, jumps back, brushes from her dress with a light shriek the
sparks driven out upon it, and continues talking incessantly in a
voice lifted for her husband to hear in the anteroom. 'If I'd
dreamed it was any such storm as this, I should never have let you
go out in it in the world. It wasn't at all necessary to have the
flowers. I could have got on perfectly well, and I believe NOW the
table would look better without them. The chrysanthemums would have
been quite enough; and I know you've taken more cold. I could tell
it by your voice as soon as you spoke; and just as quick as they're
gone to night I'm going to have you bathe your feet in mustard and
hot water, and take eight of aconite, and go straight to bed. And I
don't want you to eat very much at dinner, dear, and you must be
sure not to drink any coffee, or the aconite won't be of the least
use.' She turns and encounters her husband, who enters through the
portiere, his face pale, his eyes wild, his white necktie pulled out
of knot, and his shirt front rumpled. 'Why, Edward, what in the
world is the matter? What has happened?' ROBERTS, sinking into a chair: 'Get me a glass of water, Agnes
wine whisky brandy ' MRS. ROBERTS, bustling wildly about: 'Yes, yes. But what Bella!
Bridget! Maggy! Oh, I'll go for it myself, and I WON'T stop to
listen! Only only don't die!' While Roberts remains with his eyes
shut, and his head sunk on his breast in token of extreme
exhaustion, she disappears and reappears through the door leading to
her chamber, and then through the portiere cutting off the dining
room. She finally descends upon her husband with a flagon of
cologne in one hand, a small decanter of brandy in the other, and a
wineglass held in the hollow of her arm against her breast. She
contrives to set the glass down on the mantel and fill it from the
flagon, then she turns with the decanter in her hand, and while she
presses the glass to her husband's lips, begins to pour the brandy
on his head. 'Here! this will revive you, and it'll refresh you to
have this cologne on your head.' ROBERTS, rejecting a mouthful of the cologne with a furious sputter,
and springing to his feet: 'Why, you've given me the cologne to
DRINK, Agnes! What are you about? Do you want to poison me? Isn't
it enough to be robbed at six o'clock on the Common, without having
your head soaked in brandy, and your whole system scented up like a
barber's shop, when you get home?' MRS. ROBERTS: 'Robbed?' She drops the wineglass, puts the decanter
down on the hearth, and carefully bestowing the flagon of cologne in
the wood box, abandons herself to justice: 'Then let them come for
me at once, Edward! If I could have the heart to send you out in
such a night as this for a few wretched rosebuds, I'm quite equal to
poisoning you. Oh, Edward, WHO robbed you?' ROBERTS: 'That's what I don't know.' He continues to wipe his head
with his handkerchief, and to sputter a little from time to time... Continue reading book >>
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