[Contemplating himself.] I think perhaps, that, for
the bourgeoisie, there is a little too much colour in my costume.
WELLWYN. [Contemplating him.] Let's see--I believe I've an old top
hat somewhere.
FERRAND. Ah! Monsieur, 'merci', but that I could not. It is
scarcely in my character.
WELLWYN. True!
FERRAND. I have been to merchants of wine, of tabac, to hotels, to
Leicester Square. I have been to a Society for spreading Christian
knowledge--I thought there I would have a chance perhaps as
interpreter. 'Toujours meme chose', we regret, we have no situation
for you--same thing everywhere. It seems there is nothing doing in
this town.
WELLWYN. I've noticed, there never is.
FERRAND. I was thinking, Monsieur, that in aviation there might be a
career for me--but it seems one must be trained.
WELLWYN. Afraid so, Ferrand.
FERRAND. [Approaching the picture.] Ah! You are always working at
this. You will have something of very good there, Monsieur. You
wish to fix the type of wild savage existing ever amongst our high
civilisation. 'C'est tres chic ca'! [WELLWYN manifests the quiet
delight of an English artist actually understood.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51