e things to say before I go.

RIDGEON [looking at Sir Patrick] I suppose it can do no harm? [He
pours out some spirit, and is about to add soda water when Sir Patrick
corrects him].

SIR PATRICK. In milk. Dont set him coughing.

LOUIS [after drinking] Jennifer.

MRS DUBEDAT. Yes, dear.

LOUIS. If theres one thing I hate more than another, it's a widow.
Promise me that youll never be a widow.

MRS DUBEDAT. My dear, what do you mean?

LOUIS. I want you to look beautiful. I want people to see in your eyes
that you were married to me. The people in Italy used to point at Dante
and say "There goes the man who has been in hell." I want them to point
at you and say "There goes a woman who has been in heaven." It has been
heaven, darling, hasnt it--sometimes?

MRs DUBEDAT. Oh yes, yes. Always, always.

LOUIS. If you wear black and cry, people will say "Look at that
miserable woman: her husband made her miserable."

MRS DUBEDAT. No, never. You are the light and the blessing of my life. I
never lived until I knew you.

LOUIS [his eyes glistening] Then you must always wear beautiful dresses
and splendid magic jewels. Think of all the wonderful pictures I shall
never paint.

[She wins a terrible victory over a sob] Well, you must be transfigured
with all the beauty of those pictures. Men must get such dreams from
seeing you as they never could get from any daubing with paints and
brushes. Painters must paint you as they never painted any mortal woman
before. There must be a great tradition of beauty, a great atmosphere
of wonder and romance. That is what men must always think of when they
think of me. That is the sort of immortality I want. You can make that
for me, Jennifer. There are lots of things you dont understand that
every woman in the street understands; but you can understand that and
do it as nobody else can. Promise me that immortality. Promise me you
will not make a little hell of crape and crying and undertaker's horrors
and withering flowers and all that vulgar rubbish.

MRS DUBEDAT. I promise. But all that is far off, dear. You are to come
to Cornwall with me and get well. Sir Ralph says so.

LOUIS. Poor old B. B.

B. B. [affected to tears, turns away and whispers to Sir Patrick] Poor
fellow! Brain going.

LOUIS. Sir Patrick's there, isn't he?

SIR PATRICK. Yes, yes. I'm here.

LOUIS. Sit down, wont you? It's a shame to keep you standing about.

SIR PATRICK. Yes, Yes. Thank you. All right.