SCENE TWO
The Same, six hours later. Darkness, except for the dull glow of the fire. Enter CULLY, commando fashion, in gymn shoes. He lights the oil-lamp and turns it low. To him, JEAN.
JEAN: (in a whisper) Hello.
CULLY: Hello.
(He suddenly embraces her with some violence)
JEAN: Damn you, what do you think you’re doing?
(She disengages forcibly and gets in a rousing slap to CULLY’S cheek)
CULLY: Sorry.
JEAN: I should damn well think so.
CULLY: I thought you wanted me to. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. You see, I’m not much of an expert at amatory exercises. I never know whether they want to make love or not.
JEAN: What do you mean by ‘they’?
CULLY: Oh, anybody.
JEAN: Well, I’m not just anybody. I’m a friendly sort of creature; and when I pass a fellow-creature a cheery-oh I don’t intend it as a mating call. Do you appreciate that?
CULLY: Yes. I think so.
JEAN: And do you think you can manage to be friendly with me in a civilised fashion without getting into a continual state of excitement — or pretending to get into one?
CULLY: Yes, of course.
JEAN: That’s all right, then. Sit down.
CULLY: Thanks.
JEAN: I’m not a puritan. I suppose I’ve got the ordinary appetites. But I think it’s absolutely disgusting to go cuddling or guzzling one’s way through life. Do you agree, or are you just the ordinary pig-man?
CULLY: Yes. You’re perfectly right. I made a mistake, I’ve said I’m sorry. I suppose it was a sort of compliment to your general attractiveness.
JEAN: It’s not a compliment at all. It’s a squalid insult. It always has been, until the last few years. Never mind. You know now that I’m not that sort of girl.’ Forget about it. Where’s your friend?
CULLY: I don’t know. I suppose he’s making his own arrangements.
JEAN: How beastly! Go and fetch him.
CULLY: I shouldn’t think he’d like that.
JEAN: Whether he likes it or not, do as I tell you. If you mean what I think you mean, the sooner you two learn to behave yourselves the better. You’re my uncle’s guests, and you must behave as if you were. Where is he?
CULLY: I think he said something about the wash-house.
JEAN: Wait. I had better go. I know my way in the dark; we musn’t wake everybody up. You wait here and keep cave.
CULLY: You’ll get wet.
JEAN: There’s a cape in the lobby and it’s only a few yards.
(She goes out. CULLY fetches the DISCOVERIE OF WITCHCRAFT and opens it on the table. The clock strikes twelve. Re-enter JEAN with COHEN and MORAG. They are both fully dressed. MORAG is in some confusion of spirit, but is inclined to brave it out)
JEAN: Come in and sit down here.
MORAG: I’ll away to my bed, Miss Jean.
JEAN: You will not. Do as I tell you.
(All sit down at the table)
I’m surprised at you, Morag.
COHEN: Aren’t you surprised at me?
JEAN: Not a bit.
MORAG: There was no harm in it. No harm in it at all. He was telling me about the wee talking birds he has got in a cage down in London.
JEAN: Well, he can go on telling you here. Cully and I don’t mind.
MORAG: This is not the thing. This is not the thing at all. Sitting in the parlour and the Minister upstairs in his bed. It is you that is the surprising one, Miss Jean, I am telling you. Now like a good lady, be letting me away to my bed. I have my washing to do, tomorrow’s morning.
JEAN: Sit still. Maybe you’ll hear something for the good of your soul.
MORAG: Oh, dear me, let you my soul alone. It is two minutes past twelve, and not the Sabbath day now at all, whatever.
JEAN: That clock is ten minutes fast. It’s still the Sabbath day. Sit still and be quiet.
MORAG: Oh, dear me. My sorrow and my pain!
(She mumbles a little in Gaelic and relapses into silence)
JEAN: You were going to tell us about the birds, Conk.
COHEN: (grunts)
JEAN: Oh, very well, then. We’ll get on with the business of the meeting. Have you the book, Cully?
CULLY: Yes.
JEAN: Have you found the place?
CULLY: Yes.
JEAN: Let me see. I’ve got a bit of chalk… Oh, but this is terribly complicated! We have to go out and bathe in a spring; and we’ve got to have a lion-skin or a hart-skin girdle; and we’ve got to have chest protectors with words on them; and we’ve got to have a knife…
CULLY: That’s all right. We’ve all bathed quite recently, and a tap’s as good as a spring. I’ve made myself a chest protector, and Conk and I have both got magic belts with brass devices on them. You can have them if you like. Conk, give the lady your belt.
COHEN: I can’t. It’s keeping up my respectability.
JEAN: You’re sure they will do?
CULLY: Yes. I know the drill pretty well. I’ve written Agla and the mystic signs on my jack-knife. There it is.
(He opens his jack-knife and throws it on the table)
JEAN: Hush! Don’t make a noise. You’re wonderful, Cully.
CULLY: You go ahead and make Solomon’s Circle. That’s it — on page 244. I’ll read a sort of condensed version of the exorcism. It should do well enough. Get cracking, now. Give me a bit of chalk. I’ll do the central diagram on the table.
(JEAN draws a circle round the table and adds certain cabalistic signs. CULLY makes marks on the table itself)
JEAN: Whom shall we call up, Cully?
CULLY: It’ll have to be a Duke of the Infernal Regions. They are free from midnight till four a.m. I should think Bealphares would be the best. He’s the Golden Devil and a great talker.
COHEN: I thought you sat in a circle with your hands on the table and played ‘Lead Kindly light’ on the gramophone.
CULLY: We’ll do that too, except the gramophone. Are you ready, Jean?
JEAN: Nearly. What’s this word? AGLA… EL… YA… PANTHON.
(Standing up)
Righty-ho.
CULLY: Give me the book and sit down. Turn down the light, Conk. Not too far, you fool.
(COHEN lowers the light)
COHEN: Do we sit with our hands touching?
CULLY: Yes. Are you ready? Now keep very quiet.
(He takes up the knife and points it at all in turn)
Fugiat omne malignum
Salvetur quodque benignum… Say Amen.
OMNES: Amen.
CULLY: Homo… sacarus… musceolameas… cherubozca: I exorcise and conjure Bealphares, also called Berith, Beall and Bolfry, thou great and terrible divell, by the sacraments and by the unspeakable name TETRAGRAMMATON. I conjure and exorcise thee, Bealphares, by the virtue of all angels, archangels, thrones, dominations, principats, potestats, cherubim and seraphim that thou do come unto us, in fair form of man or womankind, here visible, before this circle and not terrible by any manner of ways; and that thou do answer truly without craft or deceit unto all my demands and questions. Lemaac, solmaac, elmay, gezagra. Josamin, sabach, ha, aem, re, sepha, sephar, semoit, gergoin, letes. Amen. Fiat, fiat, fiat. Amen.
OMNES: Amen.
(The light turns blue. MORAG begins to whimper softly. There is a crash of thunder and the door swings suddenly open, revealing an elfish little gentleman in a glistening black mackintosh and a tall silk hat. His umbrella is open and dripping with water. He closes it. MORAG stands up to her full height and gives a piercing scream, which she checks by biting on the back of her hand)
MORAG: It’s unchancy to bring an umbrella into a hoose and it open. It’s unlucky.
COHEN: For God’s sake put up the light.
(He turns up the lamp with a shaking hand. The GENTLEMAN takes off his mackintosh and hat and gives them to MORAG, with the umbrella. MORAG gingerly puts the umbrella upside down at the edge of the fireplace. He is dressed, to the astonishment of everybody, in exactly the same way as the REV. MR McCRIMMON. His face is amiable and his hair is a silky blac. He comes into the room with a light, springy step and takes his stance in front of the fireplace, beaming on the conjurors)
THE GENTLEMAN: Well, ladies and gentleman, a most disagreeable evening.
(He lights a big cigar by some sleight of hand and then looks at the clock)
Your clock is slow, I think. It is just after twelve o’clock, as I happen to know.
(He smiles benignantly, tucking his hands under his coat-tails. Enter MCCRIMMON, in nightshirt and dressing-gown. MRS McCRIMMON behind)
Ah, Mr McCrimmon, I believe? I am Dr Bolfry. How do you do?
MCCRIMMON: (shaking hands uncertainly) How do you do?
BOLFRY: I am very well, thank you.
(He stands smiling on McCRIMMON)