gret it. All the same, there's
something wanting in me: I suppose I'm stupid.

LADY CICELY. Oh, you're not stupid.

BRASSBOUND. Yes I am. Since you saw me for the first time in that
garden, you've heard me say nothing clever. And I've heard you say
nothing that didn't make me laugh, or make me feel friendly, as well
as telling me what to think and what to do. That's what I mean by real
cleverness. Well, I haven't got it. I can give an order when I know what
order to give. I can make men obey it, willing or unwilling. But I'm
stupid, I tell you: stupid. When there's no Gordon to command me, I
can't think of what to do. Left to myself, I've become half a brigand.
I can kick that little gutterscrub Drinkwater; but I find myself doing
what he puts into my head because I can't think of anything else. When
you came, I took your orders as naturally as I took Gordon's, though
I little thought my next commander would be a woman. I want to take
service under you. And there's no way in which that can be done except
marrying you. Will you let me do it?

LADY CICELY. I'm afraid you don't quite know how odd a match it would be
for me according to the ideas of English society.

BRASSBOUND. I care nothing about English society: let it mind its own
business.

LADY CICELY (rising, a little alarmed). Captain Paquito: I am not in
love with you.

BRASSBOUND (also rising, with his gaze still steadfastly on her). I
didn't suppose you were: the commander is not usually in love with his
subordinate.

LADY CICELY. Nor the subordinate with the commander.

BRASSBOUND (assenting firmly). Nor the subordinate with the commander.

LADY CICELY (learning for the first time in her life what terror is,
as she finds that he is unconsciously mesmerizing her). Oh, you are
dangerous!

BRASSBOUND. Come: are you in love with anybody else? That's the
question.

LADY CICELY (shaking her head). I have never been in love with any real
person; and I never shall. How could I manage people if I had that mad
little bit of self left in me? That's my secret.

BRASSBOUND. Then throw away the last bit of self. Marry me.

LADY CICELY (vainly struggling to recall her wandering will). Must I?

BRASSBOUND. There is no must. You CAN. I ask you to. My fate depends on
it.

LADY CICELY. It's frightful; for I don't mean to--don't wish to.

BRASSBOUND. But you will.

LADY CICELY (quite lost, slowly stretches out her hand to give it to
him). I-- (Gunfire from t