60
Pygmalion
and be quiet. [
He throws her roughly into the easy-chair].
LIZA
[
crushed by superior strength and weight] What’s to be-
come of me? What’s to become of me?
HIGGINS
. How the devil do I know what’s to become of
you? What does it matter what becomes of you?
LIZA
. You don’t care. I know you don’t care. You wouldn’t
care if I was dead. I’m nothing to you—not so much as them
slippers.
HIGGINS
[
thundering] THOSE slippers.
LIZA
[
with bitter submission] Those slippers. I didn’t think
it made any difference now.
A pause. Eliza hopeless and crushed. Higgins a little uneasy.
HIGGINS
[
in his loftiest manner] Why
have you begun go-
ing on like this? May I ask whether you complain of your
treatment here?
LIZA
. No.
HIGGINS
. Has anybody behaved badly to you? Colonel
Pickering? Mrs. Pearce? Any of the servants?
LIZA
. No.
HIGGINS
. I presume you don’t pretend that I have treated
you badly.
LIZA
. No.
HIGGINS
. I am glad to hear it. [
He moderates his tone]. Per-
haps you’re tired after the strain of the day. Will you have a
glass of champagne? [
He moves towards the door].
LIZA
. No. [
Recollecting her manners] Thank you.
HIGGINS
[
good-humored again] This has been coming on
you for some days. I suppose it was natural for you to be
anxious about the garden party. But that’s all over now. [
He
pats her kindly on the shoulder. She writhes]. There’s nothing
more to worry about.
LIZA
. No. Nothing more for you to worry about. [
She sud-
denly rises and gets away from him by going to the piano bench,
where she sits and hides her face]. Oh God! I wish I was dead.
HIGGINS
[
staring after her in sincere surprise] Why? in
heaven’s name, why? [
Reasonably, going to her] Listen to me,
Eliza. All this irritation is purely subjective.
61
Shaw
LIZA
. I don’t understand. I’m too ignorant.
HIGGINS
. It’s only imagination.
Low spirits and nothing
else. Nobody’s hurting you. Nothing’s wrong. You go to bed
like a good girl and sleep it off. Have a little cry and say your
prayers: that will make you comfortable.
LIZA
. I heard YOUR prayers. “Thank God it’s all over!”
HIGGINS
[
impatiently] Well, don’t you thank God it’s all
over? Now you are free and can do what you like.
LIZA
[
pulling herself together in desperation] What am I fit
for? What have you left me fit for? Where am I to go? What
am I to do? What’s to become of me?
HIGGINS
[
enlightened, but not at all impressed] Oh, that’s
what’s worrying you, is it? [
He thrusts his hands into his pock-
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