)
LADY CICELY (with vivid curiosity). Oh, let me see. (He hands it
to her. Before she can control herself, her expression changes to
one of unmistakable disappointment and repulsion.)
BRASSBOUND (with a single sardonic cachinnation). Ha! You expected
something better than that. Well, you're right. Her face does not
look well opposite yours.
LADY CICELY (distressed). I said nothing.
BRASSSOUND. What could you say? (He takes back the portrait: she
relinquishes it without a word. He looks at it; shakes his head;
and takes it quietly between his finger and thumb to tear it.)
LADY CICELY (staying his hand). Oh, not your mother's picture!
BRASSBOUND. If that were your picture, would you like your son to
keep it for younger and better women to see?
LADY CICELY (releasing his hand). Oh, you are dreadful! Tear it,
tear it. (She covers her eyes for a moment to shut out the sight.)
BRASSBOUND (tearing it quietly). You killed her for me that day in
the castle; and I am better without her. (He throws away the
fragments.) Now everything is gone. You have taken the old meaning
out of my life; but you have put no new meaning into it. I can see
that you have some clue to the world that makes all its
difficulties easy for you; but I'm not clever enough to seize it.
You've lamed me by showing me that I take life the wrong way when
I'm left to myself.
LADY CICELY. Oh no. Why do you say that?
BRASSBOUND.
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