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But the intense, rather painful, feeling which had swept over the audience was instantly removed by a comic monologue, and I need not tell you that these monologues, intended to amuse the men from the trenches and give them a hearty laugh, are usually very La Scala that is to say rosse. But I do love to hear the boys shout with glee over them.
Guy went, weary of the conflict, to the room in which the concert was given and listened to some operatic piece, or watched between the heads, the hidden profile of some female singer or an actor and heard the bursts of laughter that greeted the new monologue The Telephone, rendered in a clear voice with the coolness of an English clown, by a gentleman in a dress coat: See!
But he kept on for all my seeming, and indeed real, indifference, kept on hour after hour in a monologue he endeavored to make interesting, and which probably would have been so if the time and occasion had been fit for my enjoying it. As it was, I had no ear for his choicest phrases, his subtlest criticisms, or his most philosophic disquisitions.
Draw nearer unfold your celestial wings and brood tenderly o'er the aspirations of this receptive heart this heart already upborne on waves of ecstasy and o'er- mastering joy; fulfill its psychic dreams and lift it to thine own supersensible heights" she breathed in an exaggerated stage whisper and continued her vague, visionary monologue, or extravaganza, until the curtain fell and brought down the house again with enthusiastic applause.
And me without a brass penny to buy a bed! If the Saints save me from England, 'tis al " "Come out of that, now!" said I. The monologue ceased; there was a quick silence. Then the voice, much altered, said: "Who calls? 'Tis may be an Irish voice!" "It is," said I. "I've swallowed as much peat smoke as any man of my years. Come out of that now, and let me have a look at you."
It was true that, at first, he wandered about the farmstead muttering to himself in his old way an endless monologue which was a jumble of comment, gratitude, and the brief memories of other days. It took some time to adjust his poor mind to the fact that he had no longer to fear that Poverty which had stalked ever before him like a threatening spirit.
The ideal part would be for him to discover America, like Christopher Columbus; win pitched battles, like Bonaparte, or some other equally senseless thing; but the essential point is, never to leave the stage and to talk all the time the work, in reality, should be a monologue in five acts.
There was an effort to hear what he was saying but very quickly Ragnor stopped the monologue by calling: "Adam! Thee! Thou art the one wanted. Ian is just going to read what the London Times says of this dreadful mismanagement." "'Mismanagement! Is that what thou calls the crime? Go on, Ian! More light on this subject is wanted here."
He brought cheer and animation into your house. His talk was fresh; his zeal for whatever was uppermost in his mind was contagious, and he inspired you with enthusiasm. He was not good at conversation, in the French sense of the term, for he was given to monologue; but he was never dull. His artlessness was charming.
After a while Big Medicine began bellowing tunelessly that old ditty, once popular but now half forgotten: "Nava, Nava, My Navaho-o I have a love for you that will grow-ow!" Which stirred old Applehead to an irritated monologue upon the theme of certain persons whose ignorance is not blissful, but trouble-inviting.
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