And farewell, farewell, farewell.
LADY CICELY (in a strange ecstasy, holding his hands as he rises).
Oh, farewell. With my heart's deepest feeling, farewell, farewell.
BRASSBOUND. With my heart's noblest honor and triumph, farewell.
(He turns and flies.)
LADY CICELY. How glorious! how glorious! And what an escape!
CURTAIN
NOTES TO CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND'S CONVERSION
SOURCES OF THE PLAY
I claim as a notable merit in the authorship of this play that I
have been intelligent enough to steal its scenery, its
surroundings, its atmosphere, its geography, its knowledge of the
east, its fascinating Cadis and Kearneys and Sheikhs and mud
castles from an excellent book of philosophic travel and vivid
adventure entitled Mogreb-el-Acksa (Morocco the Most Holy) by
Cunninghame Graham. My own first hand knowledge of Morocco is
based on a morning's walk through Tangier, and a cursory
observation of the coast through a binocular from the deck of an
Orient steamer, both later in date than the writing of the play.
Cunninghame Graham is the hero of his own book; but I have not
made him the hero of my play, because so incredible a personage
must have destroyed its likelihood--such as it is. There are
moments when I do not myself believe in his existence. And yet he
must be real; for I have seen him with these eyes; and I am one of
the few men living who can decipher the curious alphabet in which
he writes his private letters.
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