ACT II
After sunset. Mee-Mee is discovered lighting up the studio. Students and Apprentices enter from house. They run round after each other’s tails in a cat-prowling fashion, singing in high good humour.
Students. [In chorus.]
Mew-cats, mew-cats, come and take a walk!
Mew-cats, mew-cats, come and have a talk!
Catch your catch, as cats can! Who can catch me now?
What you at, scratch cat? Phit! Phat! Miaow!
[They dance.
Tee. [Rubbing his hands.] Ah, ha!
New. [Slapping his pockets.] Ha, ha!
The Rest. Hee-hee!
Mee. What you all laughing ’bout not’ing for?
Tee. We are all in a very good temper to-night, Mee-Mee. We’ve been paid!
Mee. Dat so?
Tee. Yes,—to the last sen! Isn’t that wonderful?
Mee. Velly nice, me t’ink.
Tee. And so, Mee-Mee [takes box from Lilong], here’s a little present for you which self-sacrificing Generosity has been long intending.
[Presents a box of sweets.
Mee. Oh, hon’ble Nicenesses, awfully to condescen’!
Hiti. They are sweets, Mee-Mee.
Nau. We hope they are good; but we haven’t tried them.
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. And so we have promised——
Pee. What do you think?——
New. Why, to take Yunglangtsi in the procession with us——
Han. As a walking advertisement.
Mee. He not going to walk all de way?
New. Oh, no!
Lil. We are going to have him carried in a chair of state—quite grand, like a mandarin.
Pee. And we shall go in front and behind. We are going to get the chair now.
Han. Have all the lanterns lighted for us, Mee-Mee, when we come back.
Mee. Say? How long will de procession last?
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....
Students. [In chorus.]
Mew-cats, mew-cats, all fit and fat,
Mew-cats, mew-cats, what will you be at?
Tit-for-tat, kit-for-cat,—can’t you have enough?
Catch your catch, and catch again! Phit! Phat! Fuff!
[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. Come to me here, Mee-Mee! Come and talk to me!
Mee. Ya-as! What sort of talky-talky Serenity like best?
Yung. Any silly chatter will do, so long as you talk.
Mee. Hon’ble Mr. Yunglangtsi not velly happy to-night?
Yung. I’m bored, Mee-Mee; I’m bored!
Mee. You been changin’ yo’ clo’s?
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!
Yung. Do you think that funny, Mee-Mee?
Mee. Rader funny, don’t you t’ink?
Yung. You are very silly, Mee-Mee.
Mee. Ya-as, me velly silly—me know dat! Not evellybody so gleat wise person as Mr. Yunglangtsi. H’m? H’m?
Yung. You think I like you, Mee-Mee, don’t you?
Mee. Ya-as—a leetle.
Yung. Well, I don’t then. I dislike you. There’s no one I dislike more. Shall I tell you why?
Mee. If you please.
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 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!
Mee. Oh! how beautiful!
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.
Mee. De name?
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!
Mee. You? Oh, poo’ man, to lose all dat!
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 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!
Mee. Oh! me velly, velly solly! Me ’bominably not wanted, eh?
Yung. My father doesn’t understand me, Mee-Mee.... No one understands me.... You don’t understand me, either.
Mee. Me t’ink—yes! Have a sweet?
[Offers box.
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?
Mee. Oh, t’ank, t’ank, no!... Shabby Humbleness never dare!
Yung. It won’t hurt you, Mee-Mee, it’s a very little one.
Mee. Oh, so graciously to condescen’! T’ank!
[She grovels and advances on all fours. Having 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.
Mee. Ah! dat so true!
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?
Mee. Yes.
Yung. Come and fan me.
Crier. [Without in the distance.] Lights, lights, lights! People, people, people! Light your lanterns all!
Chorus. [In distance.]
Ching-a-ring-a-ring-ting, Feast of Lanterns!
Time to chime the lute, the flute, the loud bassoon!
Shouting out, and all about the link-light man turns:
Sing awake a tune to make the moon come soon!
Yung. Mee-Mee!
Mee. Ya-as ... please?... Say?...
Yung. You still there?
Mee. Ya-as.
Yung. ... Stop fanning me.
[He sleeps.
Crier. [Without, going by with rattle of wand on wall.] Lights, lights, lights! People, people, people! Light your lanterns all!
Tikipu enters from street.
Tiki. Mee-Mee! Has every one gone out?
Mee. Sh! not gone yet!
[Points.
Tiki. But they are all going? Mrs. Back-of-the-House too?
Mee. She say.
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.
Enter from house Mr. and Mrs. Olangtsi.
Mrs. O. Oh, so you are back, are you? When is the chair coming?
[Tikipu looks out.
Tiki. Condescension, they are bringing it now.
Students. [Without.]
Lights, lights, lights!
Come and see the sights!
Chin, Chin, Chinaman!
Did ever you see a finer man,
A major, or a minor man?
Lights, lights, lights!
Mrs. O. Olangtsi, are you ready?
Olang. Yes, my dear, I’m ready. Where is my lantern, Mee-Mee?
Mrs. O. Is Yunglangtsi ready?
Mee. Yes, High-mighty, he leddy an’ waitin’ mos’ patient.
[Students heard without.
Mrs. O. Tell them to come in.
[Tikipu opens door wide; Students re-enter with chair and bearers. ‘Lights, lights, lights,’ etc.
Olang. [To Yunglangtsi.] Now, you fat feather-bed, wake up!
[Shakes him.
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.
Students. Oh!!!
[They lift the chair with a great effort.
Yung. Oh, mother, I’ve just had such a dream—such a dream! I dreamt I was a grocer again.... I dreamt that I....
[Exeunt Students bearing Yunglangtsi. ‘Lights, lights, lights,’ etc.
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!
[Exit Mee-Mee into house, Tikipu into pantry.
[To Olangtsi.] Now, then, we are going, you understand;—I shall go out that way, you go this. 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!...
Re-enter Tikipu.
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!
[Exit.
Olang. Yes, put them all out! Don’t go burning my candles at both ends.
[Exit fussily.
Voices. [In distance.]
China’s burning, China’s burning.
Look yonder, look yonder!
Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!
Oh, bring us some water!
[Tikipu leaves the lights and goes to get out his painting.
Re-enter Mee-Mee.
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.
[Music and loud drum-beating is heard.
Mee. Ah, say?
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. Yes.
Mee. Oh, Tiki, you stealin’ de picture?
Tiki. Stealing it? No, silly! I’m only copying it,—just one little bit of it at a time.
Mee. Oh, Tiki, it de velly exact same t’ing!
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....
Mee. Yees?
Tiki. Marrying you is going to make him a great artist?
Mee. Dat what de Star say.
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.
Mee. [Doubtfully.] H’m.
Tiki. You’d be very proud of him.
Mee. H’m.
Tiki. You’d hear people say such fine things about him—about his pictures, I mean.
Mee. H’m.
Tiki. And then, you see, they’d say it all came from his marrying you.
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. Oh! so you think you could teach painting?
Mee. Oh, yes! dat quite easy t’ing—jus’ to paint!
[Makes an imaginary flourish of the brush.
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?
Mee. Oh, yes! And all de poo’ man’s wasted time!—I know,—go on!
Tiki.
Yes! Wasted time! That is what every one
Who’s not an artist thinks when it is done!
But really—truly—if they had but eyes,—
Yonder lie glimpses of a paradise
That is all round us: but that they can’t see!
We are all prisoners, under lock and key,
Bereft of light,—until some painter-soul
Comes with great love and labour, and cuts a hole
Through the thick wall, and shows, all fresh and fair.
A heaven of living beauty, waiting there
Its call to earth! Waiting: and we—stand dumb!
Mee.
What silly heaven dat is! Why wait?
We want, we want,—and it wait!
Tiki.
If we called loud enough for it, it would come!
Look, Mee-Mee, look! This picture is the gate
Of a new world!... Oh, if you could but see!
In there is Life, magic, and mystery!—
It moves ... it breathes ... it changes.
[A pause.
There, sometimes, Mee-Mee,—
Sometimes when I am here alone at night,
I have seen all that garden change its light—
Sunlight to moonlight. I can see the flowers
Close their bright eyes; and into those dim bowers,
Lo, like a whispered word,
Comes sleep; and every bird,
That with uplifted throat now seems to make
Those tree-tops shake,
Stops with a will to let full silence flow.
All, all looks still, ... and yet, I know
Something, with power to break
The spell, stands there ... awake!
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?
Tiki. Oh, well, I’ve got something to do.
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. [Indifferently.] Oh,—yes—if you like.
Mee. H’m ... yes. You like me to tell you all about meself?
Tiki. [Absent-mindedly.] Yes, ... oh yes ... that ought to be ... quite ... amusing.
Mee. Music, stop all dat noise!... Dey stop.... Ah, now ... ah, now!
[She sings.
Mee-Mee orphan from far-off lan’:
Mee-Mee’s fader was gleat big man!—
So big—so! He long ago
Die:—leave me not know where to go!
Heigho!—so—
[Music breaks in.
Give me chance, me laugh, me sing,—
See now, ah?—Ting-a-ting—Ting-a-ting!
[Speaks.] Say! Isn’ dat pletty:—what?
[Sings.] Mee-Mee wise: wise mo’n you!
Got two eyes,—mos’ good as new—
See dere, eh? Lef’, right;—say,
What colour in dem dey got to-day?
How you hope?—s’all dey ope, s’all dey wink?
You not care, eh? You no’ t’ink?
[Speaks.] Say! Isn’ dat pletty:—what?
[Sings.] Got no moder,—never had none—
Got no broder, an’ don’ want one!
No little sis’—nobody to kiss,—
Nobody to miss me—nobody to miss:—
Heigho!—so—
Nowhere else to go!
See—dat jus’ de way dat I come here,—
Seven year ago—a long seven year!
Oh dear!
[Speaks.] Say! Isn’ dat pletty:—what?
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!
[Turns away.
Tiki. Where, Mee-Mee? Tell me!
Mee. [Laughing to herself.] Don’ know. She got no eyes in de back of her head!
Tiki. But show me, Mee-Mee, show me!
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!
[Exit.
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 I had you, here at my hand, to teach me what to do!
[Sighs.
[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.
Tiki.
Oh, I’m no good, Wiowani! I’m no good!
Just now I thought that no one understood
So well as I.... But this—it’s all too flat!
Too tight, too stuffy!
How did you do that?
That isn’t paint—that’s—oh! how is it done?
It’s sunlight,—I mean moonlight,—no—no—sun—
[He pauses bewildered.
Wiowani, is it moonlight or sunlight? Oh!
How am I to paint it if I do not know?
Ah, how you beat me! How can I recall
The beauty and the mystery of it all!
[He goes and examines the picture.
Oh! is that it? Yes, yes, I see! How strange!
Is it the painting, or my eyes, that change?
Or is it that Divinity dwells here,
And in my darkness makes a light shine clear?
[The shadow of Olangtsi passes without.
O Wiowani, Wisdom born of old,
Soon shall I learn thy way!
Thy light shall guide me, and thy hand shall hold;
[Olangtsi slides open the door.
And some day men shall point to me and say,
Enter Olangtsi.
‘There goes the little painter, in whose brain
Great Wiowani brought to life again
The art of ancient days!’
So shall they speak in Wiowani’s praise
Phile praising me!
O Wiowani, say! When shall it be?
[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.
Olang. Oh!!!
[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.
Olang.
So, little thief, at last you have been caught!
What thief—what great thief in the night has taught
You to steal—like this?
Tiki.
Master, I have not stolen, that is not true!
Olang.
Not stolen? Oho! so this belongs to you?
Whose is that paint? whose candles do you burn?
First you steal these;—and then, with these in turn,
You come by stealth and rob me of my Art!
Tiki.
How do I rob you, when I take no part
Of what is yours? Indeed, I have no skill!
This counts for nothing; but some day it will—
Perhaps,—when I have learned!
Olang.
You learn! How dare you say
That you will learn? How have you found the way
To learn at all? Tell me that! Tell me that!
Tiki.
Oh, it is nothing to be angry at!
I only listened, Master, while you taught
Others the way; and while you spoke you brought
New wisdom to my brain, and gave my hand
The craftsman’s cunning,—for you understand
The meanings of the mystery they spurn,—
And, as I listened, I could not choose but learn!
Olang.
What right had you to listen? What right, I say,
To profit thus while others had to pay?
Yours is a hireling’s place: you were brought here
To rub, scrub, and run errands! And you dare
Come prying into the privacies of Art,—
The Art of Wiowani—which stands apart
Sacred and secret, its traditions known
And practised by my family alone?
You play the spy! You come by night: you spoil
My paper, take my tools, and burn my oil—
Stealing my Book of Beauty leaf by leaf;
And yet you dare to say you are no thief!
Tiki.
As a starving man reaches his hand for bread,
So in my darkness I reached out for these!
Master, the hunger was too strong,—the dread
Of Beauty drove me! For her fierce decrees
Man must obey, albeit to his own doom!
Her law brings bondage: where her feet find room
Her hand holds sway: she tears, that it may bleed,
The heart which follows her, and every need
Of man’s frail flesh she takes and turns to scorn!
Who worships her, by him is sackcloth worn;
And on his head she sets no crown of joy,
But ashes only—symbol to be borne,
If you betray her, how she will—destroy!
Olang.
Tiki, you know that I have always been—
Been a kind master to you....
Tiki. [Doubtfully.]
Oh, ye-es!
Olang.
I mean,
I have never beaten you, Tiki,—not enough
To hurt; I have not starved you, or been rough
To you.... Have I, Tiki? No. My mind was bent
Kindly toward you. I had always meant
To help you....
Tiki.
Help me?
Olang.
Why were you not content
To wait?
Tiki.
To help me? Oh, if that were true,
Master, why, there is nothing I’d not do
In bondage for your sake! Yes, you may take
All that I have—all I can ever earn,
Of fame or fortune,—so you’ll let me learn
To be a painter! And you need not give
Me anything—just the bare means to live:
Enough to keep
Body and soul together! I want no sleep,
No warmth, no comfort of any kind, no part
In anything except the joy of art—
Of art!
Olang.
Listen to me! Why do you interrupt
While I am speaking? I was saying—yes, yes,
That I had always intended, more or less,
When you had served your time here and been paid,
To help you to some business or trade
Suited to your capacities and your class.
Now for this once I am willing to let pass
The gross deception of your conduct here—
And as your mind is evidently not clear
About the future, I am prepared, I say,
To give you, without any more delay,
The means of making—if you wish—a start
Upon your own account, which for my part
I think will—suit you. [He takes out certificate.
This, this, as you see,
Is the certificate of grocery
Which my own son—who, as you know, desires
To be a painter—now no more requires.
With this you can be a grocer—on condition
That you do not presume in that position
To practise, meddle, or take any part
Nefariously in processes of art
Which you don’t understand—and never will.
You will find there a space where you can fill
Your name in.... There!... I call that,—do not you?—
[He hangs certificate round Tikipu’s neck.
A very handsome offer, Tikipu....
What do you say?
Tiki.
Master, dear Master, oh!
You do not mean what you are saying! No, no!
Ah, tell me! though my work means little yet,
Has it no promise ... none? Do you forget
How you too learned,—and did things—oh! not well—
But each time, as a child that learns to spell,
Your hand became more sure, until it caught
The kindling fire! And then you had no thought
Of fame or money, or what the world might say,
But only of Beauty, and the joy that lay
There in your hands—the joy of giving birth
To form!... And then, had any one on earth
Bade you stop painting, would you not have said—
‘To win your wish, first you must strike me dead!’
Olang.
You chattering little devil, you drivelling brat!
How dare you mock at me with your mouth like that!
Swear by your father’s dust, never to lay
Finger on paint again! Swear it, I say!
Tiki.
Oh, if I did, that dust out of the grave
Would rise and choke me! No! were I your slave,
I’d keep my birthright! To possess that prize
You must cut off these hands, put out these eyes,
Drain me of blood, and draw me limb from limb!
For it is Wiowani, ’tis from him
That I get strength; ’tis Wiowani who
Now stands in judgement betwixt me and you!
Olang.
Some Devil has made you say that! Some Devil, I say!
What? So you think yourself worth saving, eh?
Worth having, eh? worth teaching? Do you dream
I’d let a thing like that, a tricked-out scheme,
A muddy smear, a smudge of chalk and cheese,
A daub, a patch, a paint-scab, a disease,
A niggled lie, a forger’s fraud,—go hence
Out of my studio to breed pestilence?
No! I will not! ’Tis treason if I spare!
Let go, let go! That finishes it!—
So there!
[He tears the drawing into fragments and throws them down. Tikipu screams with anguish, and falls face-forward, clutching the torn pieces.
Get up, you blubbering booby! don’t lie there
Biting the boards up! Now you’ve got to swear!
Give me your oath! What? So you’re stubborn still?
Wait, we’ll soon make you!—If I can’t, she will!
[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.
Tiki.
He had no pity, no pity on me at all!
Wiowani! Oh, it is no use to call!
Nobody cares! Nobody hears my cry!
Oh! I have failed! Wiowani, let me die!
Oh! let me die!
[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.
Students. [Without.]
Mew-cats, mew-cats, all fit and fat!
Mew-cats, mew-cats, what have you been at?
We’ve been out, round about, quite long enough,
Catch your catch and home again! Phit! Phat! Fuff!
Enter Mee-Mee running.
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.
Students. [Without.]
Mew-cash, mew-cash, all fit and fat,
Mew-cash, mew-cash, wha’sh you been at?
We’ve been out, roun’ ’bout, qui’ shlong ’nough,
Cash, cash, an’ cash again! Fiff! Faff! Fuff!
Yung. [Without.] I want to go home to bed!
Tee. [Without.] If you want to go to bed, we must tosh you and turn you! Up with him! Whup!!
Yung. [Without.] Put me down! Put me down, I tell you!
[Laughter and general smash.
Mee. Tiki?
Enter Yunglangtsi. He trails in, hardly able to speak for sleepiness.
Yung. I want to go to bed, Mee-Mee ... where’s mother?
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 down!’ those devils, they tossed me! But they all fell down, Mee-Mee, and then I was on the top.
Mee. Tiki!
Enter Tee-Pee, the others following.
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——
Nau. What are you sitting up for, Mee-Mee?
Lil. What are you crying for?
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!
Enter from house Mr. and Mrs. Olangtsi.
Mrs. O. Make him? Of course I’ll make him! Where have you put him to?
Mee. [Full of terror and apprehension.] Put him to? Oh!
Yung. Mother, I want to go to bed.
Mrs. O. Where’s Tikipu?
Yung. Mother, when I said ‘Put me down!’ those devils, they tossed me!
Mrs. O. Who has seen Tikipu?
Han. Sheen Tikipu? Who wantsh to shee Tikipu? Mother of Mountains, don’t ashk such ’diculous questions!
Olang. But you must have seen him,—he was here a moment ago!
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.
Mrs. O. Has he gone out? Did you meet him in the street?
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?
Mrs. O. Well, don’t all stand gaping there! Go out and look for him!
Olang. He’s not gone out. There are his shoes.
Mee. Oh-h-h! Tiki, what have dey done to you? Where have dey put you to, Tiki?
[She picks up shoes, looks inside them and fondles them.
Mrs. O. Go and look in the house, one of you!
[Exit Nau-Tee.
Olang. Perhaps he’s hiding in the roof. Go up and see!
Mrs. O. Go and look in the cellar!
[Exit Lilong into cellar and Pee-Ah-Bee up ladder.
Hiti. Yesh, go! Don’t shtand talking—go! Go to the top of the house—go to the bottom of the 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.
[Retires to door-post with stately deliberation.
Nau. [Returning from house.] He’s not in the house! Mrs. Tip-top-shtory-teller has made a mistake.
Olang. Ah! where is it? Where has he put it to? Have you seen——
Pee. [From roof.] He’s not up here!
Lil. [From cellar-trap.] He’s not down here—he’s not—I’m sure he’s not down——
[Slips through trap, catches Tee-Pee by the ankles and draws him after.
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.]
Mee. Oh, Tiki! Is you not anywhere? What have become of you, Tiki?
[Pee-Ah-Bee returns from roof.
Hiti. [Clinging to door-post and waving his hand aimlessly.] He’s not out here!
Olang. The thief! the thief! he has run off with it!
Mrs. O. With what?
Olang. I gave it him to—to keep safe—I remember now,—before I went out!
Mrs. O. Gave him what?
Olang. Why, the certificate, of course! What else? Your son’s certificate of grocery! Ah, fool that I was! Fool!
Yung. My—my certificate?
Olang. Yes,—he has taken it!
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!
Hiti. [From doorway.] I know where he ish:—he’sh behind that picture.
Olang. Ah, yes, behind the picture! Bring him out! Bring him out!
Han. No—he’s not there! Nothing’s there! ’Shtificate’s not there, either!
Yung. Boohooh!
Mrs. O. There, there, don’t fret! We’ll get you another, just like it. There, don’t cry!
[Exeunt Mrs. Olangtsi and Yunglangtsi into house.
Han., Naut., and Pee. [Link arms and cross the stage staggering.] My—my—my beautiful ’Shtificate.... I hate you, father! Boohooh! Good-night!...
[They push Hiti-Titi from door-post and go out.
Olang. Oh, Fool! Fool! Fool! Why, why did I ... not ... spare?
[Mee-Mee holds up to Olangtsi torn fragments of picture. He strikes them down with a cry of rage.
No! I will not! That finishes it. So there!
[Exit.
[The truth dawns on Mee-Mee. She utters a cry.
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!
[She gathers the torn pieces to her breast, kissing them.
CURTAIN.