s the poet, who sees everything; and I am the poor
parson, who understands nothing.

CANDIDA (remorsefully). Do you mind what is said by a foolish boy,
because I said something like it again in jest?

MORELL. That foolish boy can speak with the inspiration of a child and
the cunning of a serpent. He has claimed that you belong to him and not
to me; and, rightly or wrongly, I have come to fear that it may be
true. I will not go about tortured with doubts and suspicions. I will
not live with you and keep a secret from you. I will not suffer the
intolerable degradation of jealousy. We have agreed--he and I--that you
shall choose between us now. I await your decision.

CANDIDA (slowly recoiling a step, her heart hardened by his rhetoric in
spite of the sincere feeling behind it). Oh! I am to choose, am I? I
suppose it is quite settled that I must belong to one or the other.

MORELL (firmly). Quite. You must choose definitely.

MARCHBANKS (anxiously). Morell: you don't understand. She means that
she belongs to herself.

CANDIDA (turning on him). I mean that and a good deal more, Master
Eugene, as you will both find out presently. And pray, my lords and
masters, what have you to offer for my choice? I am up for auction, it
seems. What do you bid, James?

MORELL (reproachfully). Cand-- (He breaks down: his eyes and throat
fill with tears: the orator becomes the wounded animal.) I can't speak--

CANDIDA (impulsively going to him). Ah, dearest--

MARCHBANKS (in wild alarm). Stop: it's not fair. You mustn't show her
that you suffer, Morell. I am on the rack, too; but I am not crying.

MORELL (rallying all his forces). Yes: you are right. It is not for
pity that I am bidding. (He disengages himself from Candida.)

CANDIDA (retreating, chilled). I beg your pardon, James; I did not mean
to touch you. I am waiting to hear your bid.

MORELL (with proud humility). I have nothing to offer you but my
strength for your defence, my honesty of purpose for your surety, my
ability and industry for your livelihood, and my authority and position
for your dignity. That is all it becomes a man to offer to a woman.

CANDIDA (quite quietly). And you, Eugene? What do you offer?

MARCHBANKS. My weakness! my desolation! my heart's need!

CANDIDA (impressed). That's a good bid, Eugene. Now I know how to make
my choice.

She pauses and looks curiously from one to the other, as if weighing
them. Morell, whose lofty confidence has change