George Bernard Shaw a penn State Electronic Classics Series Publication

up quickly at her, with a face of iron. She stops her mouth hast-
ily with the hand she has raised to indicate him, and stands
staring affrightedly.)
THE SERGEANT
. Come, Parson; put your coat on and
come along.
RICHARD
. Yes: I’ll come. (He rises and takes a step towards
his own coat; then recollects himself, and, with his back to the
sergeant, moves his gaze slowly round the room without turning
his head until he sees Anderson’s black coat hanging up on the
press. He goes composedly to it; takes it down; and puts it on.
The idea of himself as a parson tickles him: he looks down at the
black sleeve on his arm, and then smiles slyly at Judith, whose
white face shows him that what she is painfully struggling to
grasp is not the humor of the situation but its horror. He turns
to the sergeant, who is approaching him with a pair of hand-
cuffs hidden behind him, and says lightly) Did you ever arrest
a man of my cloth before, Sergeant?
THE SERGEANT 
(instinctively respectful, half to the black
coat, half to Richard’s good breeding). Well, no sir. At least,

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35
GB Shaw
only an army chaplain. (Showing the handcuffs.) I’m sorry,
air; but duty—
RICHARD
. Just so, Sergeant. Well, I’m not ashamed of them:
thank you kindly for the apology. (He holds out his hands.)
SERGEANT 
(not availing himself of the offer). One gentle-
man to another, sir. Wouldn’t you like to say a word to your
missis, sir, before you go?
RICHARD 
(smiling). Oh, we shall meet again before—eh?
(Meaning “before you hang me.”)
SERGEANT 
(loudly, with ostentatious cheerfulness). Oh, of
course, of course. No call for the lady to distress herself. Still—
(in a lower voice, intended for Richard alone) your last chance, sir.
They look at one another significantly for a moment. Than Ri-
chard exhales a deep breath and turns towards Judith.
RICHARD 
(very distinctly). My love. (She looks at him, piti-
ably pale, and tries to answer, but cannot—tries also to come to
him, but cannot trust herself to stand without the support of the
table.) This gallant gentleman is good enough to allow us a
moment of leavetaking. (The sergeant retires delicately and
joins his men near the door.) He is trying to spare you the
truth; but you had better know it. Are you listening to me?
(She signifies assent.) Do you understand that I am going to
my death? (She signifies that she understands.) Remember,
you must find our friend who was with us just now. Do you
understand? (She signifies yes.) See that you get him safely out
of harm’s way. Don’t for your life let him know of my danger;
but if he finds it out, tell him that he cannot save me: they
would hang him; and they would not spare me. And tell him
that I am steadfast in my religion as he is in his, and that he
may depend on me to the death. (He turns to go, and meets the
eye of the sergeant, who looks a little suspicious. He considers a
moment, and then, turning roguishly to Judith with something of
a smile breaking through his earnestness, says) And now, my dear,
I am afraid the sergeant will not believe that you love me like
a wife unless you give one kiss before I go.
He approaches her and holds out his arms. She quits the table
and almost falls into them.
JUDITH 
(the words choking her). I ought to—it’s murder—
RICHARD
. No: only a kiss (softly to her) for his sake.
JUDITH
. I can’t. You must—
RICHARD 
(folding her in his arms with an impulse of com-