NDIDA (tenderly amused at him). Yes: I'm sure you feel a great grown
up wicked deceiver--quite proud of yourself, aren't you?

MARCHBANKS (raising his head quickly and turning a little to look round
at her). Take care. I'm ever so much older than you, if you only knew.
(He turns quite over on his knees, with his hands clasped and his arms
on her lap, and speaks with growing impulse, his blood beginning to
stir.) May I say some wicked things to you?

CANDIDA (without the least fear or coldness, quite nobly, and with
perfect respect for his passion, but with a touch of her wise-hearted
maternal humor). No. But you may say anything you really and truly
feel. Anything at all, no matter what it is. I am not afraid, so long
as it is your real self that speaks, and not a mere attitude--a gallant
attitude, or a wicked attitude, or even a poetic attitude. I put you on
your honor and truth. Now say whatever you want to.

MARCHBANKS (the eager expression vanishing utterly from his lips and
nostrils as his eyes light up with pathetic spirituality). Oh, now I
can't say anything: all the words I know belong to some attitude or
other--all except one.

CANDIDA. What one is that?

MARCHBANKS (softly, losing himself in the music of the name). Candida,
Candida, Candida, Candida, Candida. I must say that now, because you
have put me on my honor and truth; and I never think or feel Mrs.
Morell: it is always Candida.

CANDIDA. Of course. And what have you to say to Candida?

MARCHBANKS. Nothing, but to repeat your name a thousand times. Don't
you feel that every time is a prayer to you?

CANDIDA. Doesn't it make you happy to be able to pray?

MARCHBANKS. Yes, very happy.

CANDIDA. Well, that happiness is the answer to your prayer. Do you want
anything more?

MARCHBANKS (in beatitude). No: I have come into heaven, where want is
unknown.

(Morell comes in. He halts on the threshold, and takes in the scene at
a glance.)

MORELL (grave and self-contained). I hope I don't disturb you. (Candida
starts up violently, but without the smallest embarrassment, laughing
at herself. Eugene, still kneeling, saves himself from falling by
putting his hands on the seat of the chair, and remains there, staring
open mouthed at Morell.)

CANDIDA (as she rises). Oh, James, how you startled me! I was so taken
up with Eugene that I didn't hear your latch-key. How did the meeting
go off? Did you speak well?

MORELL. I have never spoken better in