TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
THE VORTEX
THE VORTEX
A Play in Three Acts
By
NOEL COWARD
PUBLISHERS
HARPER & BROTHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
THE VORTEX
Copyright, 1924
By Noel Coward
Printed in the U.S.A.
D-A
All rights reserved.
Applications regarding performing rights
should be addressed to the author
care of the publishers
To
G. CALTHROP
WITH A GOOD DEAL OF GRATITUDE
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
- Preston
- Helen Saville
- Pauncefort Quentin
- Clara Hibbert
- Florence Lancaster
- Tom Veryan
- Nicky Lancaster
- David Lancaster
- Bunty Mainwaring
- Bruce Fairlight
THE VORTEX
ACT I
THE VORTEX
ACT I
The scene is the drawing-room of Mrs. Lancaster’s flat in London. The colors and decoration are on the verge of being original. The furniture is simple but distinctly expensive.
Persons shown are Helen Saville and Pauncefort Quentin. Helen Saville and Pauncefort Quentin are shown in by Preston. Helen is a smartly dressed woman of about thirty. “Pawnie” is an elderly maiden gentleman.
Preston
I’m expecting Mrs. Lancaster in at any moment now, ma’am.
Helen
Thank you, Preston, we’ll wait a little.
Preston
Shall I get you some tea?
Helen
No, thanks, we’ve already had some—give me a cigarette, Pawnie; they’re in that box on the table.
[Pawnie hands her cigarette box. Preston goes out.]
Pawnie
It may be tiresome of me, but I think all this coloring is oppressive.
Helen
You make such a “fetish” of house decoration, Pawnie.
Pawnie
[Wandering round the room]
Not at all, but I do like things to be good and right.
Helen
Well, I don’t consider the new frieze in your bathroom either good or right.
Pawnie
How can you, Helen! It’s too marvelous for words. Parelli designed it specially for me.
Helen
Personally, it would make me self-conscious to sit in a bath surrounded by frisky gods and goddesses all with such better figures than mine.
Pawnie
I find it encouraging. This whole room is so typical of Florence.
Helen
In what way?
Pawnie
Every way. Look at the furniture.
Helen
A little artificial perhaps, but quite harmless.
Pawnie
Dear Helen, you’re such a loyal friend.
Helen
I’m very fond of Florence.
Pawnie
We all are. Oh, my God, look at that lampshade!
Helen
I gave it to her last Christmas.
Pawnie
Wasn’t that a little naughty of you?
Helen
I don’t see why; it’s extremely pretty.
Pawnie
Too unrestrained. Such a bad example for the servants. [He takes up frame from desk.] Who’s this boy?
Helen
Tom Veryan. You must have seen him.
Pawnie
Florence’s past, present, or future?
Helen
Present.
Pawnie
He has that innocent look that never fails to attract elderly women.
Helen
Don’t be a cat.
Pawnie
I wasn’t meaning Florence; she’s too divine to be in any marked category.
Helen
I wonder.
Pawnie
Oh, yes, Helen, deathless sort of magnetism, you know.
Helen
I often wonder what will happen to Florence eventually.
Pawnie
My dear, I’m far too occupied in wondering what’s going to happen to me to worry about other people.
Helen
I’ve always thought your course was quite clear, Pawnie.
Pawnie
However offensive that remark was intended to be, Helen, I shall take it in the most complimentary spirit.
Helen
I’m sure you will.
Pawnie
I expect Florence will just go on and on, then suddenly become quite beautifully old, and go on and on still more.
Helen
It’s too late now for her to become beautifully old, I’m afraid. She’ll have to be young indefinitely.
Pawnie
I don’t suppose she’ll mind that, but it’s trying for David.
Helen
And fiendish for Nicky.
Pawnie
Oh, no, my dear; you’re quite wrong there. I’m sure Nicky doesn’t care a damn.
Helen
It’s difficult to tell with Nicky.
Pawnie
He’s divinely selfish; all amusing people are.
Helen
Did you hear him play in Paris?
Pawnie
Yes.
Helen
Well?
Pawnie
Erratic—one or two things perfect, but he’s slovenly.
Helen
He only takes things seriously in spurts, but still he’s very young.
Pawnie
Do you really think that’s a good excuse.
Helen
No, I’m afraid not, especially when so much depends on it.
Pawnie
What does depend on it?
Helen
Everything—his life’s happiness.
Pawnie
Don’t be so terribly intense, dear.
Helen
It’s true.
Pawnie
I’m quite sure Nicky will be perfectly happy as long as he goes on attracting people; he loves being attractive.
Helen
Naturally, he’s Florence’s son.
Pawnie
Such an exciting thing to be.
Helen
You don’t believe Nicky’s got anything in him at all, do you?
Pawnie (lightly)
I don’t think it matters, anyway.
Helen
I do.
Pawnie
But you’ve got a loving nature, Helen. I always know it.
Helen
Nicky hasn’t had a chance.
Pawnie
Nonsense—he’s had everything he wanted ever since the day he was born, and he’ll go on wasting his opportunities until he dies.
Helen
Quite possibly.
Pawnie
Well, there you are then.
Helen
He may have had everything he wanted, but he’s had none of the things he really needs.
Pawnie
Are you talking socially or spiritually?
Helen
You’re quite right, Pawnie, you wouldn’t be so beautifully preserved if you’d wasted any of your valuable time or sincerity.
Pawnie
I forgive you for that, Helen, freely.
Helen
Thank you so much.
Pawnie
You must realize one thing, everyone is sacrificed to Florence—it’s as it should be—of course, she’s a couple of hundred years too late—she ought to have been a flaunting, intriguing King’s mistress, with black page boys and jade baths and things too divine——
[Enter Preston.]
Preston
[Announcing]
Miss Hibbert.
[Enter Clara Hibbert—she is affected, but quite well-dressed. Preston goes out.]
Clara
My dears. Isn’t Florence back yet?
Helen
No, we’re waiting for her.
Pawnie
You look harassed, Clara.
Clara
I am harassed.
Helen
Why?
Clara
I’m singing to-night for Laura Tennant—she’s giving a dreadful reception at her dreadful house for some dreadful Ambassador——
Pawnie
How dreadful!
Clara
No one will listen to me, of course—they’ll all be far too busy avoiding the Cup and searching for the Champagne.
Helen
What are you singing?
Clara
One Gabriel Faure, two Reynaldo Hahn’s and an Aria.
Pawnie
Which Aria?
Clara
I can’t think, but my accompanist will know—I’ve got a frightful headache.
Helen
Why don’t you take off your hat?
Clara
My dear, I daren’t—I’ve just had my hair done—I suppose you haven’t got a “Cachet Faivre,” either of you?
Helen
No, but Florence has, I expect—Preston will know where they are—ring the bell, Pawnie.
Pawnie
[Ringing bell]
My poor Clara—I do hope your singing to-night will justify the fuss you’re making this afternoon.
Clara
Don’t be so brutal, Pawnie.
Helen
Is Gregory going with you?
Clara
Of course—I never sing unless he’s there—he gives me such marvelous moral support.
Pawnie
“Moral” is hardly the word I should have chosen, dear.
[Enter Preston.]
Helen
Do you know if Mrs. Lancaster has any “Cachet Faivre” anywhere?
Preston
Yes, ma’am—I think so.
Clara
Do get me one, Preston, I’m suffering tortures.
Preston
Very well, miss.
[She goes out.]
Pawnie
Preston has such wonderful poise, hasn’t she?
Helen
She needs it in this house.
Clara
I do wish Florence would hurry up. I want to borrow her green fan. I’ve got a new Patou frock that positively demands it.
Helen
She can’t be long now.
Clara
I suppose I daren’t ask Preston for the fan and creep away with it?
Helen
I shouldn’t, if I were you—Florence is very touchy over that sort of thing.
Clara
She promised it to me ages ago.
Pawnie
Surely there isn’t such a desperate hurry? You won’t be singing until about half-past eleven.
Clara
[Petulantly]
My dear, I’ve got to rehearse—I don’t know a word——
[Re-enter Preston with a “Cachet Faivre” and a glass of water.]
Clara
You’re a saint, Preston—thank you a thousand times——
Pawnie
Soak it a little first, dear, or you’ll choke, and I should detest that.
[Clara soaks “Cachet” and then swallows it. Preston goes out.]
Clara
Now I must lie down flat—get out of the way, Helen.
Pawnie
Perhaps you’d like us both to go right out of the room and sit in the hall?
Clara
No, Pawnie, I should never expect the least consideration from you.
[She lies down flat on the divan, Helen arranges cushions for her.]
Clara
Thank you, Helen darling—I shall always come to you whenever I’m ill.
Helen
That will be nice.
[Enter Florence Lancaster followed by Tom Veryan. Florence is brilliantly dressed almost to the point of being “outré.” Her face still retains the remnants of great beauty. Tom is athletic and good-looking. One feels he is good at games and extremely bad at everything else.]
Florence
Helen—Pawnie, have you been here long?
Pawnie
No, only a few hours.
Florence
My dear. I’m so frightfully sorry—we’ve been held up for ages in the traffic. Davis is a congenital idiot. Always manages to get to a turning just as the policeman puts out his hand. No initiative whatever. What’s happened to Clara? Has she been run over?
Clara
No, dear, I’ve got a frightful head.
Florence
Pawnie, you know Tom, don’t you?—Tom Veryan, Mr. Quentin, I’m sure you’ll adore each other.
Tom
[Shaking hands]
How are you?
Pawnie
Very well, thank you—how sweet of you to ask me?
Florence
Is there anything I can do, Clara?
Clara
Yes, dear, lend me your green fan for to-night.
Florence
All right—but you won’t get too carried away with it, will you, dear? I should hate the feathers to come out. Does anyone want any tea?
Helen
No thanks, dear.
Florence