The Twilight of the God

by Edith Wharton

　　A Newport drawing-room. Tapestries, flowers, bric-a-brac. Through thewindows, a geranium-edged lawn, the cliffs and the sea. Isabel Warlandsits reading. Lucius Warland enters in flannels and a yachting-cap.

　　Isabel. Back already?

　　Warland. The wind dropped--it turned into a drifting race. Langham tookme off the yacht on his launch. What time is it? Two o'clock? Where's Mrs.Raynor?

　　Isabel. On her way to New York.

　　Warland. To New York?

　　Isabel. Precisely. The boat must be just leaving; she started an hourago and took Laura with her. In fact I'm alone in the house--that is,until this evening. Some people are coming then.

　　Warland. But what in the world--

　　Isabel. Her aunt, Mrs. Griscom, has had a fit. She has them constantly.They're not serious--at least they wouldn't be, if Mrs. Griscom were notso rich--and childless. Naturally, under the circumstances, Marian feels apeculiar sympathy for her; her position is such a sad one; there'spositively no one to care whether she lives or dies--except her heirs. Ofcourse they all rush to Newburgh whenever she has a fit. It's hard onMarian, for she lives the farthest away; but she has come to anunderstanding with the housekeeper, who always telegraphs her first, sothat she gets a start of several hours. She will be at Newburgh to-nightat ten, and she has calculated that the others can't possibly arrivebefore midnight.

　　Warland. You have a delightful way of putting things. I suppose you'dtalk of me like that.

　　Isabel. Oh, no. It's too humiliating to doubt one's husband'sdisinterestedness.

　　Warland. I wish I had a rich aunt who had fits.

　　Isabel. If I were wishing I should choose heart-disease.

　　Warland. There's no doing anything without money or influence.

　　Isabel (picking up her book). Have you heard from Washington?

　　Warland. Yes. That's what I was going to speak of when I asked for Mrs.Raynor. I wanted to bid her good-bye.

　　Isabel. You're going?

　　Warland. By the five train. Fagott has just wired me that the Ambassadorwill be in Washington on Monday. He hasn't named his secretaries yet, butthere isn't much hope for me. He has a nephew--

　　Isabel. They always have. Like the Popes.

　　Warland. Well, I'm going all the same. You'll explain to Mrs. Raynor ifshe gets back before I do? Are there to be people at dinner? I don'tsuppose it matters. You can always pick up an extra man on a Saturday.

　　Isabel. By the way, that reminds me that Marian left me a list of thepeople who are arriving this afternoon. My novel is so absorbing that Iforgot to look at it. Where can it be? Ah, here--Let me see: the JackMerringtons, Adelaide Clinton, Ned Lender--all from New York, by sevenP.M. train. Lewis Darley to-night, by Fall River boat. John Oberville,from Boston at five P.M. Why, I didn't know--

　　Warland (excitedly). John Oberville? John Oberville? Here? To-day atfive o'clock? Let me see--let me look at the list. Are you sure you're notmistaken? Why, she never said a word! Why the deuce didn't you tell me?

　　Isabel. I didn't know.

　　Warland. Oberville--Oberville--!

　　Isabel. Why, what difference does it make?

　　Warland. What difference? What difference? Don't look at me as if youdidn't understand English! Why, if Oberville's coming--(a pause) Lookhere, Isabel, didn't you know him very well at one time?

　　Isabel. Very well--yes.

　　Warland. I thought so--of course--I remember now; I heard all about itbefore I met you. Let me see--didn't you and your mother spend a winter inWashington when he was Under-secretary of State?

　　Isabel. That was before the deluge.

　　Warland. I remember--it all comes back to me. I used to hear it saidthat he admired you tremendously; there was a report that you wereengaged. Don't you remember? Why, it was in all the papers. By Jove,Isabel, what a match that would have been!

　　Isabel. You are disinterested!

　　Warland. Well, I can't help thinking--

　　Isabel. That I paid you a handsome compliment?

　　Warland (preoccupied). Eh?--Ah, yes--exactly. What was I saying? Oh--about the report of your engagement. (Playfully.) He was awfully gone onyou, wasn't he?

　　Isabel. It's not for me to diminish your triumph.

　　Warland. By Jove, I can't think why Mrs. Raynor didn't tell me he wascoming. A man like that--one doesn't take him for granted, like the piano-tuner! I wonder I didn't see it in the papers.

　　Isabel. Is he grown such a great man?

　　Warland. Oberville? Great? John Oberville? I'll tell you what he is--thepower behind the throne, the black Pope, the King-maker and all the restof it. Don't you read the papers? Of course I'll never get on if you won'tinterest yourself in politics. And to think you might have married thatman!

　　Isabel. And got you your secretaryship!

　　Warland. Oberville has them all in the hollow of his hand.

　　Isabel. Well, you'll see him at five o'clock.

　　Warland. I don't suppose he's ever heard of me. worse luck! (Asilence.) Isabel, look here. I never ask questions, do I? But it was solong ago--and Oberville almost belongs to history--he will one of thesedays at any rate. Just tell me--did he want to marry you?

　　Isabel. Since you answer for his immortality--(after a pause. I wasvery much in love with him.

　　Warland. Then of course he did. (Another pause.) But what in theworld--

　　Isabel (musing). As you say, it was so long ago; I don't see why Ishouldn't tell you. There was a married woman who had--what is the correctexpression?--made sacrifices for him. There was only one sacrifice sheobjected to making--and he didn't consider himself free. It sounds ratherrococo. doesn't it? It was odd that she died the year after we weremarried.

　　Warland. Whew!

　　Isabel (following her own thoughts). I've never seen him since; it mustbe ten years ago. I'm certainly thirty-two, and I was just twenty-twothen. It's curious to talk of it. I had put it away so carefully. How itsmells of camphor! And what an old-fashioned cut it has! (Rising.)Where's the list, Lucius? You wanted to know if there were to be people atdinner tonight--

　　Warland. Here it is--but never mind. Isabel--(silence. Isabel--

　　Isabel. Well?

　　Warland. It's odd he never married.

　　Isabel. The comparison is to my disadvantage. But then I met you.

　　Warland. Don't be so confoundedly sarcastic. I wonder how he'll feelabout seeing you. Oh, I don't mean any sentimental rot, of course... butyou're an uncommonly agreeable woman. I daresay he'll be pleased to seeyou again; you're fifty times more attractive than when I married you.

　　Isabel. I wish your other investments had appreciated at the same rate.Unfortunately my charms won't pay the butcher.

　　Warland. Damn the butcher!

　　Isabel. I happened to mention him because he's just written again; but Imight as well have said the baker or the candlestick-maker. Thecandlestick-maker--I wonder what he is, by the way? He must have morefaith in human nature than the others, for I haven't heard from him yet. Iwonder if there is a Creditor's Polite Letter-writer which they allconsult; their style is so exactly alike. I advise you to pass through NewYork incognito on your way to Washington; their attentions might beoppressive.

　　Warland. Confoundedly oppressive. What a dog's life it is! My poorIsabel--

　　Isabel. Don't pity me. I didn't marry yon for a home.

　　Warland (after a pause). What did you marry me for, if you cared forOberville? (Another pause.) Eh?

　　Isabel. Don't make me regret my confidence.

　　Warland. I beg your pardon.

　　Isabel. Oh, it was only a subterfuge to conceal the fact that I have nodistinct recollection of my reasons. The fact is, a girl's motives inmarrying are like a passport--apt to get mislaid. One is so seldom askedfor either. But mine certainly couldn't have been mercenary: I never hearda mother praise you to her daughters.

　　Warland. No, I never was much of a match.

　　Isabel. You impugn my judgment.

　　Warland. If I only had a head for business, now, I might have donesomething by this time. But I'd sooner break stones in the road.

　　Isabel. It must be very hard to get an opening in that profession. Somany of my friends have aspired to it, and yet I never knew any one whoactually did it.

　　Warland. If I could only get the secretaryship. How that kind of lifewould suit you! It's as much for you that I want it--

　　Isabel. And almost as much for the butcher. Don't belittle the circle ofyour benevolence. (She walks across the room.) Three o'clock already--and Marian asked me to give orders about the carriages. Let me see--Mr.Oberville is the first arrival; if you'll ring I will send word to thestable. I suppose you'll stay now?

　　Warland. Stay?

　　Isabel. Not go to Washington. I thought you spoke as if he could helpyou.

　　Warland. He could settle the whole thing in five minutes. The Presidentcan't refuse him anything. But he doesn't know me; he may have a candidateof his own. It's a pity you haven't seen him for so long--and yet I don'tknow; perhaps it's just as well. The others don't arrive till seven? Itseems as if--How long is he going to be here? Till to-morrow night, Isuppose? I wonder what he's come for. The Merringtons will bore him todeath, and Adelaide, of course, will be philandering with Lender. I wonder(. pause. if Darley likes boating. (Rings the bell.)

　　Isabel. Boating?

　　Warland. Oh, I was only thinking--Where are the matches? One may smokehere, I suppose? (He looks at his wife.) If I were you I'd put on thatblack gown of yours to-night--the one with the spangles.--It's only thatFred Langham asked me to go over to Narragansett in his launch to-morrowmorning, and I was thinking that I might take Darley; I always likedDarley.

　　Isabel (to the footman who enters). Mrs. Raynor wishes the dog-cart sentto the station at five o'clock to meet Mr. Oberville.

　　Footman. Very good, m'm. Shall I serve tea at the usual time, m'm?

　　Isabel. Yes. That is, when Mr. Oberville arrives.

　　Footman (going out). Very good, m'm.

　　Warland (to Isabel, who is moving toward the door). Where are you going?

　　Isabel. To my room now--for a walk later.

　　Warland. Later? It's past three already.

　　Isabel. I've no engagement this afternoon.

　　Warland. Oh, I didn't know. (As she reaches the door.) You'll be back,I suppose?

　　Isabel. I have no intention of eloping.

　　Warland. For tea, I mean?

　　Isabel. I never take tea. (Warland shrugs his shoulders.)

　　II

　　The same drawing-room. Isabel enters from the lawn in hat and gloves.The tea-table is set out, and the footman just lighting the lamp under thekettle.

　　Isabel. You may take the tea-things away. I never take tea.

　　Footman. Very good, m'm. (He hesitates.) I understood, m'm, that Mr.Oberville was to have tea?

　　Isabel. Mr. Oberville? But he was to arrive long ago! What time is it?

　　Footman. Only a quarter past five, m'm.

　　Isabel. A quarter past five? (She goes up to the clock.) Surely you'remistaken? I thought it was long after six. ( To herself.) I walked andwalked--I must have walked too fast ... ( To the Footman.) I'm going outagain. When Mr. Oberville arrives please give him his tea without waitingfor me. I shall not be back till dinner-time.

　　Footman. Very good, m'm. Here are some letters, m'm.

　　Isabel (glancing at them with a movement of disgust). You may send themup to my room.

　　Footman. I beg pardon, m'm, but one is a note from Mme. Fanfreluche, andthe man who brought it is waiting for an answer.

　　Isabel. Didn't you tell him I was out?

　　Footman. Yes, m'm. But he said he had orders to wait till you came in.

　　Isabel. Ah--let me see. ( She opens the note.) Ah, yes. (. pause.)Please say that I am on my way now to Mme Fanfreluche's to give her theanswer in person. You may tell the man that I have already started. Do youunderstand? Already started.

　　Footman. Yes, m'm.

　　Isabel. And--wait. ( With an effort.) You may tell me when the man hasstarted. I shall wait here till then. Be sure you let me know.

　　Footman. Yes, m'm. ( He goes out.)

　　Isabel (sinking into a chair and hiding her face). Ah! ( After a momentshe rises, taking up her gloves and sunshade, and walks toward the windowwhich opens on the lawn.) I'm so tired. ( She hesitates and turns backinto the room.) Where can I go to? ( She sits down again by the tea-table, and bends over the kettle. The clock strikes half-past five.)

　　Isabel (picking up her sunshade, walks back to the window). If I mustmeet one of them...

　　Oberville (speaking in the hall). Thanks. I'll take tea first. ( Heenters the room, and pauses doubtfully on seeing Isabel.)

　　Isabel (stepping towards him with a smile). It's not that I've changed,of course, but only that I happened to have my back to the light. Isn'tthat what you are going to say?

　　Oberville. Mrs. Warland!

　　Isabel. So you really have become a great man! They always rememberpeople's names.

　　Oberville. Were you afraid I was going to call you Isabel?

　　Isabel. Bravo! Crescendo!

　　Oberville. But you have changed, all the same.

　　Isabel. You must indeed have reached a dizzy eminence, since you canindulge yourself by speaking the truth!

　　Oberville. It's your voice. I knew it at once, and yet it's different.

　　Isabel. I hope it can still convey the pleasure I feel in seeing an oldfriend. ( She holds out her hand. He takes it.) You know, I suppose, thatMrs. Raynor is not here to receive you? She was called away this morningvery suddenly by her aunt's illness.

　　Oberville. Yes. She left a note for me. ( Absently.) I'm sorry to hearof Mrs. Griscom's illness.

　　Isabel. Oh, Mrs. Griscom's illnesses are less alarming than herrecoveries. But I am forgetting to offer you any tea. ( She hands him acup.) I remember you liked it very strong.

　　Oberville. What else do you remember?

　　Isabel. A number of equally useless things. My mind is a store-room ofobsolete information.

　　Oberville. Why obsolete, since I am providing you with a use for it?

　　Isabel. At any rate, it's open to question whether it was worth storingfor that length of time. Especially as there must have been others morefitted--by opportunity--to undertake the duty.

　　Oberville. The duty?

　　Isabel. Of remembering how you like your tea.

　　Oberville (with a change of tone). Since you call it a duty--I mayremind you that it's one I have never asked any one else to perform.

　　Isabel. As a duty! But as a pleasure?

　　Oberville. Do you really want to know?

　　Isabel. Oh, I don't require and charge you.

　　Oberville. You dislike as much as ever having the i's dotted?

　　Isabel. With a handwriting I know as well as yours!

　　Oberville (recovering his lightness of manner). Accomplished woman! ( Heexamines her approvingly.) I'd no idea that you were here. I never wasmore surprised.

　　Isabel. I hope you like being surprised. To my mind it's an overratedpleasure.

　　Oberville. Is it? I'm sorry to hear that.

　　Isabel. Why? Have you a surprise to dispose of?

　　Oberville. I'm not sure that I haven't.

　　Isabel. Don't part with it too hastily. It may improve by being kept.

　　Oberville (tentatively). Does that mean that you don't want it?

　　Isabel. Heaven forbid! I want everything I can get.

　　Oberville. And you get everything you want. At least you used to.

　　Isabel. Let us talk of your surprise.

　　Oberville. It's to be yours, you know. (. pause. He speaks gravely.) Ifind that I've never got over having lost you.

　　Isabel (also gravely). And is that a surprise--to you too?

　　Oberville. Honestly--yes. I thought I'd crammed my life full. I didn'tknow there was a cranny left anywhere. At first, you know, I stuffed ineverything I could lay my hands on--there was such a big void to fill. Andafter all I haven't filled it. I felt that the moment I saw you. ( Apause.) I'm talking stupidly.

　　Isabel. It would be odious if you were eloquent.

　　Oberville. What do you mean?

　　Isabel. That's a question you never used to ask me.

　　Oberville. Be merciful. Remember how little practise I've had lately.

　　Isabel. In what?

　　Oberville. Never mind! ( He rises and walks away; then comes back andstands in front of her.) What a fool I was to give you up!

　　Isabel. Oh, don't say that! I've lived on it!

　　Oberville. On my letting you go?

　　Isabel. On your letting everything go--but the right.

　　Oberville. Oh, hang the right! What is truth? We had the right to behappy!

　　Isabel (with rising emotion). I used to think so sometimes.

　　Oberville. Did you? Triple fool that I was!

　　Isabel. But you showed me--

　　Oberville. Why, good God, we belonged to each other--and I let you go!It's fabulous. I've fought for things since that weren't worth a crookedsixpence; fought as well as other men. And you--you--I lost you because Icouldn't face a scene! Hang it, suppose there'd been a dozen scenes--Imight have survived them. Men have been known to. They're not necessarilyfatal.

　　Isabel. A scene?

　　Oberville. It's a form of fear that women don't understand. How you musthave despised me!

　　Isabel. You were--afraid--of a scene?

　　Oberville. I was a damned coward, Isabel. That's about the size of it.

　　Isabel. Ah--I had thought it so much larger!

　　Oberville. What did you say?

　　Isabel. I said that you have forgotten to drink your tea. It must bequite cold.

　　Oberville. Ah--

　　Isabel. Let me give you another cup.

　　Oberville (collecting himself). No--no. This is perfect.

　　Isabel. You haven't tasted it.

　　Oberville (falling into her mood) . You always made it to perfection.Only you never gave me enough sugar.

　　Isabel. I know better now. ( She puts another lump in his cup.)

　　Oberville (drinks his tea, and then says, with an air of reproach).Isn't all this chaff rather a waste of time between two old friends whohaven't met for so many years?

　　Isabel (lightly). Oh, it's only a hors d'oeuvre--the tuning of theinstruments. I'm out of practise too.

　　Oberville. Let us come to the grand air, then. ( Sits down near her.)Tell me about yourself. What are you doing?

　　Isabel. At this moment? You'll never guess. I'm trying to remember you.

　　Oberville. To remember me?

　　Isabel. Until you came into the room just now my recollection of you wasso vivid; you were a living whole in my thoughts. Now I am engaged ingathering up the fragments--in laboriously reconstructing you....

　　Oberville. I have changed so much, then?

　　Isabel. No, I don't believe that you've changed. It's only that I seeyou differently. Don't you know how hard it is to convince elderly peoplethat the type of the evening paper is no smaller than when they wereyoung?

　　Oberville. I've shrunk then?

　　Isabel. You couldn't have grown bigger. Oh, I'm serious now; you needn'tprepare a smile. For years you were the tallest object on my horizon. Iused to climb to the thought of you, as people who live in a flat countrymount the church steeple for a view. It's wonderful how much I used to seefrom there! And the air was so strong and pure!

　　Oberville. And now?

　　Isabel. Now I can fancy how delightful it must be to sit next to you atdinner.

　　Oberville. You're unmerciful. Have I said anything to offend you?

　　Isabel. Of course not. How absurd!

　　Oberville. I lost my head a little--I forgot how long it is since wehave met. When I saw you I forgot everything except what you had once beento me. ( She is silent.) I thought you too generous to resent that.Perhaps I have overtaxed your generosity. (. pause.) Shall I confess it?When I first saw you I thought for a moment that you had remembered--as Ihad. You see I can only excuse myself by saying something inexcusable.

　　Isabel (deliberately). Not inexcusable.

　　Oberville. Not--?

　　Isabel. I had remembered.

　　Oberville. Isabel!

　　Isabel. But now--

　　Oberville. Ah, give me a moment before you unsay it!

　　Isabel. I don't mean to unsay it. There's no use in repealing anobsolete law. That's the pity of it! You say you lost me ten years ago.(. pause.) I never lost you till now.

　　Oberville. Now?

　　Isabel. Only this morning you were my supreme court of justice; therewas no appeal from your verdict. Not an hour ago you decided a case forme--against myself! And now--. And the worst of it is that it's notbecause you've changed. How do I know if you've changed? You haven't saida hundred words to me. You haven't been an hour in the room. And the yearsmust have enriched you--I daresay you've doubled your capital. You've beenin the thick of life, and the metal you're made of brightens with use.Success on some men looks like a borrowed coat; it sits on you as thoughit had been made to order. I see all this; I know it; but I don't feelit. I don't feel anything... anywhere... I'm numb. (. pause.) Don'tlaugh, but I really don't think I should know now if you came into theroom--unless I actually saw you. ( They are both silent.)

　　Oberville (at length). Then, to put the most merciful interpretationupon your epigrams, your feeling for me was made out of poorer stuff thanmine for you.

　　Isabel. Perhaps it has had harder wear.

　　Oberville. Or been less cared for?

　　Isabel. If one has only one cloak one must wear it in all weathers.

　　Oberville. Unless it is so beautiful and precious that one prefers to gocold and keep it under lock and key.

　　Isabel. In the cedar-chest of indifference--the key of which is usuallylost.

　　Oberville. Ah, Isabel, you're too pat! How much I preferred yourhesitations.

　　Isabel. My hesitations? That reminds me how much your coming hassimplified things. I feel as if I'd had an auction sale of fallacies.

　　Oberville. You speak in enigmas, and I have a notion that your riddlesare the reverse of the sphinx's--more dangerous to guess than to give up.And yet I used to find your thoughts such good reading.

　　Isabel. One cares so little for the style in which one's praises arewritten.

　　Oberville. You've been praising me for the last ten minutes and I findyour style detestable. I would rather have you find fault with me like afriend than approve me like a dilettante.

　　Isabel. A dilettante. The very word I wanted!

　　Oberville. I am proud to have enriched so full a vocabulary. But I amstill waiting for the word I want. ( He grows serious.) Isabel, look inyour heart--give me the first word you find there. You've no idea how mucha beggar can buy with a penny!

　　Isabel. It's empty, my poor friend, it's empty.

　　Oberville. Beggars never say that to each other.

　　Isabel. No; never, unless it's true.

　　Oberville (after another silence). Why do you look at me so curiously?

　　Isabel. I'm--what was it you said? Approving you as a dilettante.Don't be alarmed; you can bear examination; I don't see a crack anywhere.After all, it's a satisfaction to find that one's idol makes a handsomebibelot.

　　Oberville (with an attempt at lightness). I was right then--you're acollector?

　　Isabel (modestly). One must make a beginning. I think I shall begin withyou. ( She smiles at him.) Positively, I must have you on my mantel-shelf! ( She rises and looks at the clock.) But it's time to dress fordinner. ( She holds out her hand to him and he kisses it. They look ateach other, and it is clear that he does not quite understand, but iswatching eagerly for his cue.)

　　Warland (coming in). Hullo, Isabel--you're here after all?

　　Isabel. And so is Mr. Oberville. ( She looks straight at Warland.) Istayed in on purpose to meet him. My husband--( The two men bow.)

　　Warland (effusively). So glad to meet you. My wife talks of you sooften. She's been looking forward tremendously to your visit.

　　Oberville. It's a long time since I've had the pleasure of seeing Mrs.Warland.

　　Isabel. But now we are going to make up for lost time. ( As he goes tothe door.) I claim you to-morrow for the whole day.

　　Oberville bows and goes out.

　　Isabel. Lucius... I think you'd better go to Washington, after all.( Musing.) Narragansett might do for the others, though.... Couldn't youget Fred Langham to ask all the rest of the party to go over there withhim to-morrow morning? I shall have a headache and stay at home. ( Helooks at her doubtfully.) Mr. Oberville is a bad sailor.

　　Warland advances demonstratively.

　　Isabel (drawing back). It's time to go and dress. I think you said theblack gown with spangles?