The Brass Bottle: A Farcical Fantastic Play in Four Acts

To be sure! Yes, yes. Of course!

Horace

They give you the queerest dreams. And, just before, as it happens, Mr. Pringle had been reading "The Arabian Nights." [To Pringle.] You did say "The Arabian Nights," didn't you?

Pringle

"The Arabian Nights" – yes. I read it regularly.

Horace

[To the others, airily.] Which probably accounts for his dreams. And, in some exceptional cases, the Efreets – I mean, the effects– don't go off altogether for hours after the operation. Mr. Pringle thinks he can't have been thoroughly awake —

Pringle

[Rising.] But I am now – I am now!

Horace

Oh, he is now– quite serious and sensible, and generally himself again.

    [A general murmur of polite satisfaction.

Mr. Wackerbath

[Advancing towards Pringle.] I'm sure I'm very pleased to hear it, Mr. Pringle! Especially as it permits us to hope that we may still have the – ah – pleasure of your company.

    [The others echo this sentiment in a somewhat half-hearted manner.

Pringle

You're extremely kind – but I think perhaps I shall be better at home.

Mrs. Futvoye

[In a motherly tone.] I'm sure you will, dear Mr. Pringle. What you ought to do is to go to bed and get a good night's sleep.

Mr. Wackerbath

[Obviously relieved.] Ah, well, I won't insist – I won't insist. Perhaps you will give us some other evening?

Pringle

[With extreme stiffness.] I'm obliged to you – but I dine out very seldom. Good-night. [He crosses to Mrs. Futvoye and shakes hands with her, and bows to Mr. and Mrs. Wackerbath, after which Mr. Wackerbath takes Mrs. Futvoye up to the glazed balcony to see the river, which by this time is in bright moonlight, the Professor, after having said good-night to Pringle, following with Mrs. Wackerbath. Pringle then turns to Sylvia, who is standing on the extreme left.] Good-night, Miss Sylvia. May I offer my congratulations? I can only hope that you may be as happy – as happy as – as possible.

    [Faint waltz music is heard from the restaurant.

Sylvia

[Quietly.] Thanks so much, Mr. Pringle, I think I shall. [Giving him her hand.] Good-night.

    [She goes up and joins the group in the glazed balcony.

Pringle

Good-night. [He turns to Horace.] One moment, Ventimore!

Horace

Oh, I'm coming to the door with you, old fellow.

    [He is about to go up with him, when Pringle detains him.

Pringle

I only wanted to ask you this. [Lowering his voice.] Where is that Jinnee of yours now?

Horace

[Standing by the sofa by fireplace.] Well, – do you see that patch of silver on the water just above the bridge – [pointing to the left] – where they're all looking?

Pringle

Yes, I see that. What about it?

Horace

Only that, somewhere under that patch, old Fakrash is lying, snugly curled up inside his bottle.

Pringle

[Incredulously.] What!

Horace

I happen to know, because I dropped it there myself this afternoon inside a kit-bag.

Pringle

Well, I must say I'm glad you've got rid of him. And – er – you can rely on me to keep quiet about it for the future.

Horace

[Drily.] My dear chap, I feel sure I can.

Pringle

[Going up to the door on right above the arch.] Good-night. [Disconsolately.] I shall go and get something to eat at an "A.B.C."