The Mousetrap

ROLLANDER. I should like to understand first your reasons for refusing. They are not quite clear to me.

KARL. They are quite simple. Please do sit down. (He indicates the sofa) Your daughter is charming and intelligent, but she is not in my opinion the stuff of which true scholars are made.

ROLLANDER. (sitting on the sofa at the left end) Isn’t that rather an arbitrary decision?

KARL. (smiling) I think you have the popular belief that learning is a thing that can be stuffed into people as you put stuffing into a goose. (He sits on the right arm of the sofa) Perhaps it would be easier for you to understand if it was a question of music. If your daughter had a pretty and tuneful voice and you brought her to a singing teacher and wanted her trained for opera, a conscientious and honest teacher would tell you frankly that her voice was not suitable for opera. Would never be suitable with all the training in the world.

ROLLANDER. Well, you’re the expert. I must, I suppose, bow to your ruling on that.

KARL. Do you, yourself, really believe that your daughter wants to take up an academic career?

ROLLANDER. No, quite frankly, I do not think so. But she thinks so, Professor Hendryk. Shall we put it as simply as this, that I want my daughter to have what she wants.

KARL. A common parental weakness.

ROLLANDER. As you say, a common parental weakness. My position, however, is more uncommon than that of some parents. I am, as you may or may not know, a rich man—to put it simply.

KARL. I am aware of that, Sir William. I read the newspapers. I think it was only a few days ago that I read the description of the exotically fitted luxury car which you were having specially built as a present for your daughter.

ROLLANDER. Oh, that! Probably seems to you foolish and ostentatious. The reasons behind it, let me tell you, are mainly business ones. Helen’s not even particularly interested in the car. Her mind at the moment is set on serious subjects. That, I may say, is something for a change, for which I am thankful. She’s run around for a couple of years now with a set of people whom I don’t much care for. People without a thing in their heads except pleasure. Now she seems to want to go in for serious study and I am behind her one hundred per cent.

KARL. I can quite understand your point of view, but . . .

ROLLANDER. I’ll tell you a little more, Professor Hendryk. Helen is all that I have. Her mother died when she was seven years old. I loved my wife and I’ve never married again. All that I have left of her is Helen. I’ve always given Helen every single mortal thing she wanted.

KARL. That was natural, I’m sure, but has it been wise?

ROLLANDER. Probably not, but it’s become a habit of life, now. And Helen’s a fine girl, Professor Hendryk. I dare say she’s made her mistakes, she’s been foolish, but the only way you can learn about life is by experience. The Spanish have a proverb, “ ‘Take what you want and pay for it,’ says God.” That’s sound, Professor Hendryk, very sound.

KARL. (rising and crossing toRof the work-table) The payment may be high.

ROLLANDER. Helen wants private tuition from you. I want to give it to her. I’m prepared to pay your price.

KARL. (coldly) It’s not a question of price, Sir William. I’m not in the market for the highest fees I can get. I have a responsibility to my profession. My time and energy are limited. I have two good scholars, poor men, but they rate with me in priority above your daughter. You will forgive me for speaking frankly.

ROLLANDER. I appreciate your point of view, but I am not so insensitive as you may think. I quite realize it isn’t just a question of money. But in my belief, Professor Hendryk—and I’m a business man—every man has his price.

KARLshrugs his shoulders and sits in the armchair.

KARL. You are entitled to your opinion.

ROLLANDER. Your wife is, I believe, suffering from disseminated sclerosis.

KARL. (surprised) That is quite true. But how—did you . . . ?

ROLLANDER. (interrupting) When I approach a proposition I find out all about it beforehand. That disease, Professor Hendryk, is one about which very little is known. It responds to palliatives but there is no known cure, and although the subject of it may live for many years, complete recovery is unknown. That, I think, speaking in non-medical terms, is fairly correct?

KARL. Yes, that is correct.