SCENE

_The Library in Lord Goring’s house_. _An Adam room_. _On the right isthe door leading into the hall_. _On the left_, _the door of thesmoking-room_. _A pair of folding doors at the back open into thedrawing-room_. _The fire is lit_. _Phipps_, _the butler_, _is arrangingsome newspapers on the writing-table_. _The distinction of Phipps is hisimpassivity_. _He has been termed by enthusiasts the Ideal Butler_. _TheSphinx is not so incommunicable_. _He is a mask with a manner_. _Of hisintellectual or emotional life_, _history knows nothing_. _He representsthe dominance of form_.

[_Enter_ LORD GORING _in evening dress with a buttonhole_. _He iswearing a silk hat and Inverness cape_. _White-gloved_, _he carries aLouis Seize cane_. _His are all the delicate fopperies of Fashion_._One sees that he stands in immediate relation to modern life_, _makes itindeed_, _and so masters it_. _He is the first well-dressed philosopherin the history of thought_.]

LORD GORING. Got my second buttonhole for me, Phipps?

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Takes his hat_, _cane_, _and cape_, _andpresents new buttonhole on salver_.]

LORD GORING. Rather distinguished thing, Phipps. I am the only personof the smallest importance in London at present who wears a buttonhole.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. I have observed that,

LORD GORING. [_Taking out old buttonhole_.] You see, Phipps, Fashion iswhat one wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people wear.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. [_Putting in a new buttonhole_.] And falsehoods the truthsof other people.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible societyis oneself.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance,Phipps.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. [_Looking at himself in the glass_.] Don’t think I quitelike this buttonhole, Phipps. Makes me look a little too old. Makes mealmost in the prime of life, eh, Phipps?

PHIPPS. I don’t observe any alteration in your lordship’s appearance.

LORD GORING. You don’t, Phipps?

PHIPPS. No, my lord.

LORD GORING. I am not quite sure. For the future a more trivialbuttonhole, Phipps, on Thursday evenings.

PHIPPS. I will speak to the florist, my lord. She has had a loss in herfamily lately, which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality yourlordship complains of in the buttonhole.

LORD GORING. Extraordinary thing about the lower classes in England—theyare always losing their relations.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord! They are extremely fortunate in that respect.

LORD GORING. [_Turns round and looks at him_. PHIPPS _remainsimpassive_.] Hum! Any letters, Phipps?

PHIPPS. Three, my lord. [_Hands letters on a salver_.]

LORD GORING. [_Takes letters_.] Want my cab round in twenty minutes.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Goes towards door_.]

LORD GORING. [_Holds up letter in pink envelope_.] Ahem! Phipps, whendid this letter arrive?

PHIPPS. It was brought by hand just after your lordship went to theclub.

LORD GORING. That will do. [_Exit_ PHIPPS.] Lady Chiltern’shandwriting on Lady Chiltern’s pink notepaper. That is rather curious.I thought Robert was to write. Wonder what Lady Chiltern has got to sayto me? [_Sits at bureau and opens letter_, _and reads it_.] ‘I wantyou. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’ [_Puts down theletter with a puzzled look_. _Then takes it up_, _and reads it againslowly_.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you.’ So she hasfound out everything! Poor woman! Poor woman! [ _Pulls out watch andlooks at it_.] But what an hour to call! Ten o’clock! I shall have togive up going to the Berkshires. However, it is always nice to beexpected, and not to arrive. I am not expected at the Bachelors’, so Ishall certainly go there. Well, I will make her stand by her husband.That is the only thing for her to do. That is the only thing for anywoman to do. It is the growth of the moral sense in women that makesmarriage such a hopeless, one-sided institution. Ten o’clock. Sheshould be here soon. I must tell Phipps I am not in to any one else.[_Goes towards bell_]

[_Enter_ PHIPPS.]

PHIPPS. Lord Caversham.

LORD GORING. Oh, why will parents always appear at the wrong time? Someextraordinary mistake in nature, I suppose. [_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM.]Delighted to see you, my dear father. [_Goes to meet him_.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Take my cloak off.

LORD GORING. Is it worth while, father?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Of course it is worth while, sir. Which is the mostcomfortable chair?

LORD GORING. This one, father. It is the chair I use myself, when Ihave visitors.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Thank ye. No draught, I hope, in this room?

LORD GORING. No, father.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Sitting down_.] Glad to hear it. Can’t standdraughts. No draughts at home.

LORD GORING. Good many breezes, father.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Eh? Eh? Don’t understand what you mean. Want to havea serious conversation with you, sir.

LORD GORING. My dear father! At this hour?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, it is only ten o’clock. What is yourobjection to the hour? I think the hour is an admirable hour!

LORD GORING. Well, the fact is, father, this is not my day for talkingseriously. I am very sorry, but it is not my day.

LORD CAVERSHAM. What do you mean, sir?

LORD GORING. During the Season, father, I only talk seriously on thefirst Tuesday in every month, from four to seven.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, make it Tuesday, sir, make it Tuesday.

LORD GORING. But it is after seven, father, and my doctor says I mustnot have any serious conversation after seven. It makes me talk in mysleep.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Talk in your sleep, sir? What does that matter? Youare not married.

LORD GORING. No, father, I am not married.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! That is what I have come to talk to you about,sir. You have got to get married, and at once. Why, when I was yourage, sir, I had been an inconsolable widower for three months, and wasalready paying my addresses to your admirable mother. Damme, sir, it isyour duty to get married. You can’t be always living for pleasure.Every man of position is married nowadays. Bachelors are not fashionableany more. They are a damaged lot. Too much is known about them. Youmust get a wife, sir. Look where your friend Robert Chiltern has got toby probity, hard work, and a sensible marriage with a good woman. Whydon’t you imitate him, sir? Why don’t you take him for your model?

LORD GORING. I think I shall, father.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would, sir. Then I should be happy. Atpresent I make your mother’s life miserable on your account. You areheartless, sir, quite heartless.

LORD GORING. I hope not, father.

LORD CAVERSHAM. And it is high time for you to get married. You arethirty-four years of age, sir.

LORD GORING. Yes, father, but I only admit to thirty-two—thirty-one anda half when I have a really good buttonhole. This buttonhole is not . . .trivial enough.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I tell you you are thirty-four, sir. And there is adraught in your room, besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why didyou tell me there was no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I feel itdistinctly.

LORD GORING. So do I, father. It is a dreadful draught. I will comeand see you to-morrow, father. We can talk over anything you like. Letme help you on with your cloak, father.

LORD CAVERSHAM. No, sir; I have called this evening for a definitepurpose, and I am going to see it through at all costs to my health oryours. Put down my cloak, sir.

LORD GORING. Certainly, father. But let us go into another room.[_Rings bell_.] There is a dreadful draught here. [_Enter_ PHIPPS.]Phipps, is there a good fire in the smoking-room?

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. Come in there, father. Your sneezes are quiteheartrending.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, I suppose I have a right to sneeze when Ichoose?

LORD GORING. [_Apologetically_.] Quite so, father. I was merelyexpressing sympathy.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Oh, damn sympathy. There is a great deal too much ofthat sort of thing going on nowadays.

LORD GORING. I quite agree with you, father. If there was less sympathyin the world there would be less trouble in the world.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Going towards the smoking-room_.] That is a paradox,sir. I hate paradoxes.

LORD GORING. So do I, father. Everybody one meets is a paradoxnowadays. It is a great bore. It makes society so obvious.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Turning round_, _and looking at his son beneath hisbushy eyebrows_.] Do you always really understand what you say, sir?

LORD GORING. [_After some hesitation_.] Yes, father, if I listenattentively.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Indignantly_.] If you listen attentively! . . .Conceited young puppy!

[_Goes off grumbling into the smoking-room_. PHIPPS _enters_.]

LORD GORING. Phipps, there is a lady coming to see me this evening onparticular business. Show her into the drawing-room when she arrives.You understand?

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. It is a matter of the gravest importance, Phipps.

PHIPPS. I understand, my lord.

LORD GORING. No one else is to be admitted, under any circumstances.

PHIPPS. I understand, my lord. [_Bell rings_.]

LORD GORING. Ah! that is probably the lady. I shall see her myself.

[_Just as he is going towards the door_ LORD CAVERSHAM _enters from thesmoking-room_.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir? am I to wait attendance on you?

LORD GORING. [_Considerably perplexed_.] In a moment, father. Doexcuse me. [LORD CAVERSHAM _goes back_.] Well, remember myinstructions, Phipps—into that room.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

[LORD GORING _goes into the smoking-room_. HAROLD, _the footman shows_MRS. CHEVELEY _in_. _Lamia-like_, _she is in green and silver_. _Shehas a cloak of black satin_, _lined with dead rose-leaf silk_.]

HAROLD. What name, madam?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To_ PHIPPS, _who advances towards her_.] Is LordGoring not here? I was told he was at home?

PHIPPS. His lordship is engaged at present with Lord Caversham, madam.

[_Turns a cold_, _glassy eye on_ HAROLD, _who at once retires_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_.] How very filial!

PHIPPS. His lordship told me to ask you, madam, to be kind enough towait in the drawing-room for him. His lordship will come to you there.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a look of surprise_.] Lord Goring expects me?

PHIPPS. Yes, madam.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Are you quite sure?

PHIPPS. His lordship told me that if a lady called I was to ask her towait in the drawing-room. [_Goes to the door of the drawing-room andopens it_.] His lordship’s directions on the subject were very precise.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_] How thoughtful of him! To expect theunexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect. [_Goes towards thedrawing-room and looks in_.] Ugh! How dreary a bachelor’s drawing-roomalways looks. I shall have to alter all this. [PHIPPS _brings the lampfrom the writing-table_.] No, I don’t care for that lamp. It is far tooglaring. Light some candles.

PHIPPS. [_Replaces lamp_.] Certainly, madam.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I hope the candles have very becoming shades.

PHIPPS. We have had no complaints about them, madam, as yet.

[_Passes into the drawing-room and begins to light the candles_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_To herself_.] I wonder what woman he is waiting forto-night. It will be delightful to catch him. Men always look so sillywhen they are caught. And they are always being caught. [_Looks aboutroom and approaches the writing-table_.] What a very interesting room!What a very interesting picture! Wonder what his correspondence is like.[_Takes up letters_.] Oh, what a very uninteresting correspondence!Bills and cards, debts and dowagers! Who on earth writes to him on pinkpaper? How silly to write on pink paper! It looks like the beginning ofa middle-class romance. Romance should never begin with sentiment. Itshould begin with science and end with a settlement. [_Puts letterdown_, _then takes it up again_.] I know that handwriting. That isGertrude Chiltern’s. I remember it perfectly. The ten commandments inevery stroke of the pen, and the moral law all over the page. Wonderwhat Gertrude is writing to him about? Something horrid about me, Isuppose. How I detest that woman! [_Reads it_.] ‘I trust you. I wantyou. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’ ‘I trust you. I want you. I amcoming to you.’

[_A look of triumph comes over her face_. _She is just about to stealthe letter_, _when_ PHIPPS _comes in_.]

PHIPPS. The candles in the drawing-room are lit, madam, as you directed.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. [_Rises hastily and slips the letter under alarge silver-cased blotting-book that is lying on the table_.]

PHIPPS. I trust the shades will be to your liking, madam. They are themost becoming we have. They are the same as his lordship uses himselfwhen he is dressing for dinner.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a smile_.] Then I am sure they will be perfectlyright.

PHIPPS. [_Gravely_.] Thank you, madam.

[MRS. CHEVELEY _goes into the drawing-room_. PHIPPS _closes the door andretires_. _The door is then slowly opened_, _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY _comesout and creeps stealthily towards the writing-table_. _Suddenly voicesare heard from the smoking-room_. MRS. CHEVELEY _grows pale_, _andstops_. _The voices grow louder_, _and she goes back into thedrawing-room_, _biting her lip_.]

[_Enter_ LORD GORING _and_ LORD CAVERSHAM.]

LORD GORING. [_Expostulating_.] My dear father, if I am to get married,surely you will allow me to choose the time, place, and person?Particularly the person.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Testily_.] That is a matter for me, sir. You wouldprobably make a very poor choice. It is I who should be consulted, notyou. There is property at stake. It is not a matter for affection.Affection comes later on in married life.

LORD GORING. Yes. In married life affection comes when peoplethoroughly dislike each other, father, doesn’t it? [_Puts on_ LORDCAVERSHAM’S _cloak for him_.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Certainly, sir. I mean certainly not, air. You aretalking very foolishly to-night. What I say is that marriage is a matterfor common sense.

LORD GORING. But women who have common sense are so curiously plain,father, aren’t they? Of course I only speak from hearsay.

LORD CAVERSHAM. No woman, plain or pretty, has any common sense at all,sir. Common sense is the privilege of our sex.

LORD GORING. Quite so. And we men are so self-sacrificing that we neveruse it, do we, father?

LORD CAVERSHAM. I use it, sir. I use nothing else.

LORD GORING. So my mother tells me.

LORD CAVERSHAM. It is the secret of your mother’s happiness. You arevery heartless, sir, very heartless.

LORD GORING. I hope not, father.

[_Goes out for a moment_. _Then returns_, _looking rather put out_,_with_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, what a piece of good luck meetingyou on the doorstep! Your servant had just told me you were not at home.How extraordinary!

LORD GORING. The fact is, I am horribly busy to-night, Robert, and Igave orders I was not at home to any one. Even my father had acomparatively cold reception. He complained of a draught the whole time.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! you must be at home to me, Arthur. You are mybest friend. Perhaps by to-morrow you will be my only friend. My wifehas discovered everything.

LORD GORING. Ah! I guessed as much!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking at him_.] Really! How?

LORD GORING. [_After some hesitation_.] Oh, merely by something in theexpression of your face as you came in. Who told her?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley herself. And the woman I love knowsthat I began my career with an act of low dishonesty, that I built up mylife upon sands of shame—that I sold, like a common huckster, the secretthat had been intrusted to me as a man of honour. I thank heaven poorLord Radley died without knowing that I betrayed him. I would to God Ihad died before I had been so horribly tempted, or had fallen so low.[_Burying his face in his hands_.]

LORD GORING. [_After a pause_.] You have heard nothing from Vienna yet,in answer to your wire?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking up_.] Yes; I got a telegram from thefirst secretary at eight o’clock to-night.

LORD GORING. Well?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Nothing is absolutely known against her. On thecontrary, she occupies a rather high position in society. It is a sortof open secret that Baron Arnheim left her the greater portion of hisimmense fortune. Beyond that I can learn nothing.

LORD GORING. She doesn’t turn out to be a spy, then?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! spies are of no use nowadays. Their professionis over. The newspapers do their work instead.

LORD GORING. And thunderingly well they do it.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, I am parched with thirst. May I ring forsomething? Some hock and seltzer?

LORD GORING. Certainly. Let me. [_Rings the bell_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thanks! I don’t know what to do, Arthur, I don’tknow what to do, and you are my only friend. But what a friend youare—the one friend I can trust. I can trust you absolutely, can’t I?

[_Enter_ PHIPPS.]

LORD GORING. My dear Robert, of course. Oh! [_To_ PHIPPS.] Bring somehock and seltzer.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. And Phipps!

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord.

LORD GORING. Will you excuse me for a moment, Robert? I want to givesome directions to my servant.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Certainly.

LORD GORING. When that lady calls, tell her that I am not expected homethis evening. Tell her that I have been suddenly called out of town.You understand?

PHIPPS. The lady is in that room, my lord. You told me to show her intothat room, my lord.

LORD GORING. You did perfectly right. [_Exit_ PHIPPS.] What a mess Iam in. No; I think I shall get through it. I’ll give her a lecturethrough the door. Awkward thing to manage, though.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, tell me what I should do. My life seems tohave crumbled about me. I am a ship without a rudder in a night withouta star.

LORD GORING. Robert, you love your wife, don’t you?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I love her more than anything in the world. I usedto think ambition the great thing. It is not. Love is the great thingin the world. There is nothing but love, and I love her. But I amdefamed in her eyes. I am ignoble in her eyes. There is a wide gulfbetween us now. She has found me out, Arthur, she has found me out.

LORD GORING. Has she never in her life done some folly—someindiscretion—that she should not forgive your sin?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My wife! Never! She does not know what weaknessor temptation is. I am of clay like other men. She stands apart as goodwomen do—pitiless in her perfection—cold and stern and without mercy.But I love her, Arthur. We are childless, and I have no one else tolove, no one else to love me. Perhaps if God had sent us children shemight have been kinder to me. But God has given us a lonely house. Andshe has cut my heart in two. Don’t let us talk of it. I was brutal toher this evening. But I suppose when sinners talk to saints they arebrutal always. I said to her things that were hideously true, on myside, from my stand-point, from the standpoint of men. But don’t let ustalk of that.

LORD GORING. Your wife will forgive you. Perhaps at this moment she isforgiving you. She loves you, Robert. Why should she not forgive?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. God grant it! God grant it! [_Buries his face inhis hands_.] But there is something more I have to tell you, Arthur.

[_Enter_ PHIPPS _with drinks_.]

PHIPPS. [_Hands hock and seltzer to_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Hock andseltzer, sir.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you.

LORD GORING. Is your carriage here, Robert?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. No; I walked from the club.

LORD GORING. Sir Robert will take my cab, Phipps.

PHIPPS. Yes, my lord. [_Exit_.]

LORD GORING. Robert, you don’t mind my sending you away?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur, you must let me stay for five minutes. Ihave made up my mind what I am going to do to-night in the House. Thedebate on the Argentine Canal is to begin at eleven. [_A chair falls inthe drawing-room_.] What is that?

LORD GORING. Nothing.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I heard a chair fall in the next room. Some onehas been listening.

LORD GORING. No, no; there is no one there.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. There is some one. There are lights in the room,and the door is ajar. Some one has been listening to every secret of mylife. Arthur, what does this mean?

LORD GORING. Robert, you are excited, unnerved. I tell you there is noone in that room. Sit down, Robert.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Do you give me your word that there is no onethere?

LORD GORING. Yes.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Your word of honour? [_Sits down_.]

LORD GORING. Yes.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rises_.] Arthur, let me see for myself.

LORD GORING. No, no.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is no one there why should I not look inthat room? Arthur, you must let me go into that room and satisfy myself.Let me know that no eavesdropper has heard my life’s secret. Arthur, youdon’t realise what I am going through.

LORD GORING. Robert, this must stop. I have told you that there is noone in that room—that is enough.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rushes to the door of the room_.] It is notenough. I insist on going into this room. You have told me there is noone there, so what reason can you have for refusing me?

LORD GORING. For God’s sake, don’t! There is some one there. Some onewhom you must not see.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah, I thought so!

LORD GORING. I forbid you to enter that room.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stand back. My life is at stake. And I don’t carewho is there. I will know who it is to whom I have told my secret and myshame. [_Enters room_.]

LORD GORING. Great heavens! his own wife!

[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _comes back_, _with a look of scorn and anger on hisface_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What explanation have you to give me for thepresence of that woman here?

LORD GORING. Robert, I swear to you on my honour that that lady isstainless and guiltless of all offence towards you.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. She is a vile, an infamous thing!

LORD GORING. Don’t say that, Robert! It was for your sake she camehere. It was to try and save you she came here. She loves you and noone else.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are mad. What have I to do with her intrigueswith you? Let her remain your mistress! You are well suited to eachother. She, corrupt and shameful—you, false as a friend, treacherous asan enemy even—

LORD GORING. It is not true, Robert. Before heaven, it is not true. Inher presence and in yours I will explain all.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Let me pass, sir. You have lied enough upon yourword of honour.

[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _goes out_. LORD GORING _rushes to the door of thedrawing-room_, _when_ MRS. CHEVELEY _comes out_, _looking radiant andmuch amused_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a mock curtsey_] Good evening, Lord Goring!

LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley! Great heavens! . . . May I ask what youwere doing in my drawing-room?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Merely listening. I have a perfect passion for listeningthrough keyholes. One always hears such wonderful things through them.

LORD GORING. Doesn’t that sound rather like tempting Providence?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! surely Providence can resist temptation by this time.[_Makes a sign to him to take her cloak off_, _which he does_.]

LORD GORING. I am glad you have called. I am going to give you somegood advice.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! pray don’t. One should never give a woman anythingthat she can’t wear in the evening.

LORD GORING. I see you are quite as wilful as you used to be.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Far more! I have greatly improved. I have had moreexperience.

LORD GORING. Too much experience is a dangerous thing. Pray have acigarette. Half the pretty women in London smoke cigarettes. PersonallyI prefer the other half.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I never smoke. My dressmaker wouldn’t like it,and a woman’s first duty in life is to her dressmaker, isn’t it? Whatthe second duty is, no one has as yet discovered.

LORD GORING. You have come here to sell me Robert Chiltern’s letter,haven’t you?

MRS. CHEVELEY. To offer it to you on conditions. How did you guessthat?

LORD GORING. Because you haven’t mentioned the subject. Have you got itwith you?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Sitting down_.] Oh, no! A well-made dress has nopockets.

LORD GORING. What is your price for it?

MRS. CHEVELEY. How absurdly English you are! The English think that acheque-book can solve every problem in life. Why, my dear Arthur, I havevery much more money than you have, and quite as much as Robert Chilternhas got hold of. Money is not what I want.

LORD GORING. What do you want then, Mrs. Cheveley?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Why don’t you call me Laura?

LORD GORING. I don’t like the name.

MRS. CHEVELEY. You used to adore it.

LORD GORING. Yes: that’s why. [MRS. CHEVELEY _motions to him to sitdown beside her_. _He smiles_, _and does so_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you loved me once.

LORD GORING. Yes.

MRS. CHEVELEY. And you asked me to be your wife.

LORD GORING. That was the natural result of my loving you.

MRS. CHEVELEY. And you threw me over because you saw, or said you saw,poor old Lord Mortlake trying to have a violent flirtation with me in theconservatory at Tenby.

LORD GORING. I am under the impression that my lawyer settled thatmatter with you on certain terms . . . dictated by yourself.

MRS. CHEVELEY. At that time I was poor; you were rich.

LORD GORING. Quite so. That is why you pretended to love me.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shrugging her shoulders_.] Poor old Lord Mortlake, whohad only two topics of conversation, his gout and his wife! I nevercould quite make out which of the two he was talking about. He used themost horrible language about them both. Well, you were silly, Arthur.Why, Lord Mortlake was never anything more to me than an amusement. Oneof those utterly tedious amusements one only finds at an English countryhouse on an English country Sunday. I don’t think any one at all morallyresponsible for what he or she does at an English country house.

LORD GORING. Yes. I know lots of people think that.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I loved you, Arthur.

LORD GORING. My dear Mrs. Cheveley, you have always been far too cleverto know anything about love.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I did love you. And you loved me. You know you lovedme; and love is a very wonderful thing. I suppose that when a man hasonce loved a woman, he will do anything for her, except continue to loveher? [_Puts her hand on his_.]

LORD GORING. [_Taking his hand away quietly_.] Yes: except that.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] I am tired of living abroad. I wantto come back to London. I want to have a charming house here. I want tohave a salon. If one could only teach the English how to talk, and theIrish how to listen, society here would be quite civilised. Besides, Ihave arrived at the romantic stage. When I saw you last night at theChilterns’, I knew you were the only person I had ever cared for, if Iever have cared for anybody, Arthur. And so, on the morning of the dayyou marry me, I will give you Robert Chiltern’s letter. That is myoffer. I will give it to you now, if you promise to marry me.

LORD GORING. Now?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Smiling_.] To-morrow.

LORD GORING. Are you really serious?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes, quite serious.

LORD GORING. I should make you a very bad husband.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I don’t mind bad husbands. I have had two. They amusedme immensely.

LORD GORING. You mean that you amused yourself immensely, don’t you?

MRS. CHEVELEY. What do you know about my married life?

LORD GORING. Nothing: but I can read it like a book.

MRS. CHEVELEY. What book?

LORD GORING. [_Rising_.] The Book of Numbers.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Do you think it is quite charming of you to be so rude toa woman in your own house?

LORD GORING. In the case of very fascinating women, sex is a challenge,not a defence.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I suppose that is meant for a compliment. My dearArthur, women are never disarmed by compliments. Men always are. Thatis the difference between the two sexes.

LORD GORING. Women are never disarmed by anything, as far as I knowthem.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Then you are going to allow yourgreatest friend, Robert Chiltern, to be ruined, rather than marry someone who really has considerable attractions left. I thought you wouldhave risen to some great height of self-sacrifice, Arthur. I think youshould. And the rest of your life you could spend in contemplating yourown perfections.

LORD GORING. Oh! I do that as it is. And self-sacrifice is a thing thatshould be put down by law. It is so demoralising to the people for whomone sacrifices oneself. They always go to the bad.

MRS. CHEVELEY. As if anything could demoralise Robert Chiltern! Youseem to forget that I know his real character.

LORD GORING. What you know about him is not his real character. It wasan act of folly done in his youth, dishonourable, I admit, shameful, Iadmit, unworthy of him, I admit, and therefore . . . not his truecharacter.

MRS. CHEVELEY. How you men stand up for each other!

LORD GORING. How you women war against each other!

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Bitterly_.] I only war against one woman, againstGertrude Chiltern. I hate her. I hate her now more than ever.

LORD GORING. Because you have brought a real tragedy into her life, Isuppose.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a sneer_.] Oh, there is only one real tragedy ina woman’s life. The fact that her past is always her lover, and herfuture invariably her husband.

LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern knows nothing of the kind of life to whichyou are alluding.

MRS. CHEVELEY. A woman whose size in gloves is seven and three-quartersnever knows much about anything. You know Gertrude has always worn sevenand three-quarters? That is one of the reasons why there was never anymoral sympathy between us. . . . Well, Arthur, I suppose this romanticinterview may be regarded as at an end. You admit it was romantic, don’tyou? For the privilege of being your wife I was ready to surrender agreat prize, the climax of my diplomatic career. You decline. Verywell. If Sir Robert doesn’t uphold my Argentine scheme, I expose him.Voilà tout.

LORD GORING. You mustn’t do that. It would be vile, horrible, infamous.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shrugging her shoulders_.] Oh! don’t use big words.They mean so little. It is a commercial transaction. That is all.There is no good mixing up sentimentality in it. I offered to sellRobert Chiltern a certain thing. If he won’t pay me my price, he willhave to pay the world a greater price. There is no more to be said. Imust go. Good-bye. Won’t you shake hands?

LORD GORING. With you? No. Your transaction with Robert Chiltern maypass as a loathsome commercial transaction of a loathsome commercial age;but you seem to have forgotten that you came here to-night to talk oflove, you whose lips desecrated the word love, you to whom the thing is abook closely sealed, went this afternoon to the house of one of the mostnoble and gentle women in the world to degrade her husband in her eyes,to try and kill her love for him, to put poison in her heart, andbitterness in her life, to break her idol, and, it may be, spoil hersoul. That I cannot forgive you. That was horrible. For that there canbe no forgiveness.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you are unjust to me. Believe me, you are quiteunjust to me. I didn’t go to taunt Gertrude at all. I had no idea ofdoing anything of the kind when I entered. I called with Lady Markbysimply to ask whether an ornament, a jewel, that I lost somewhere lastnight, had been found at the Chilterns’. If you don’t believe me, youcan ask Lady Markby. She will tell you it is true. The scene thatoccurred happened after Lady Markby had left, and was really forced on meby Gertrude’s rudeness and sneers. I called, oh!—a little out of maliceif you like—but really to ask if a diamond brooch of mine had been found.That was the origin of the whole thing.

LORD GORING. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. How do you know?

LORD GORING. Because it is found. In point of fact, I found it myself,and stupidly forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I wasleaving. [_Goes over to the writing-table and pulls out the drawers_.]It is in this drawer. No, that one. This is the brooch, isn’t it?[_Holds up the brooch_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I am so glad to get it back. It was . . a present.

LORD GORING. Won’t you wear it?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Certainly, if you pin it in. [LORD GORING _suddenlyclasps it on her arm_.] Why do you put it on as a bracelet? I neverknew it could he worn as a bracelet.

LORD GORING. Really?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Holding out her handsome arm_.] No; but it looks verywell on me as a bracelet, doesn’t it?

LORD GORING. Yes; much better than when I saw it last.

MRS. CHEVELEY. When did you see it last?

LORD GORING. [_Calmly_.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, fromwhom you stole it.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Starting_.] What do you mean?

LORD GORING. I mean that you stole that ornament from my cousin, MaryBerkshire, to whom I gave it when she was married. Suspicion fell on awretched servant, who was sent away in disgrace. I recognised it lastnight. I determined to say nothing about it till I had found the thief.I have found the thief now, and I have heard her own confession.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Tossing her head_.] It is not true.

LORD GORING. You know it is true. Why, thief is written across yourface at this moment.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I will deny the whole affair from beginning to end. Iwill say that I have never seen this wretched thing, that it was never inmy possession.

[MRS. CHEVELEY _tries to get the bracelet off her arm_, _but fails_.LORD GORING _looks on amused_. _Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to nopurpose_. _A curse breaks from her_.]

LORD GORING. The drawback of stealing a thing, Mrs. Cheveley, is thatone never knows how wonderful the thing that one steals is. You can’tget that bracelet off, unless you know where the spring is. And I seeyou don’t know where the spring is. It is rather difficult to find.

MRS. CHEVELEY. You brute! You coward! [_She tries again to unclasp thebracelet_, _but fails_.]

LORD GORING. Oh! don’t use big words. They mean so little.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage_,_with inarticulate sounds_. _Then stops_, _and looks at_ LORD GORING.]What are you going to do?

LORD GORING. I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirableservant. Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes Iwill tell him to fetch the police.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Trembling_.] The police? What for?

LORD GORING. To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is whatthe police are for.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Is now in an agony of physical terror_. _Her face isdistorted_. _Her mouth awry_. _A mask has fallen from her_. _She it_,_for the moment_, _dreadful to look at_.] Don’t do that. I will doanything you want. Anything in the world you want.

LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Stop! Stop! Let me have time to think.

LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I have not got it with me. I will give it to youto-morrow.

LORD GORING. You know you are lying. Give it to me at once. [MRS.CHEVELEY _pulls the letter out_, _and hands it to him_. _She is horriblypale_.] This is it?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In a hoarse voice_.] Yes.

LORD GORING. [_Takes the letter_, _examines it_, _sighs_, _and burns itwith the lamp_.] For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. Cheveley, you havemoments of admirable common sense. I congratulate you.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Catches sight of_ LADY CHILTERN’S _letter_, _the coverof which is just showing from under the blotting-book_.] Please get me aglass of water.

LORD GORING. Certainly. [_Goes to the corner of the room and pours outa glass of water_. _While his back is turned_ MRS. CHEVELEY _steals_LADY CHILTERN’S _letter_. _When_ LORD GORING _returns the glass sherefuses it with a gesture_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. Will you help me on with my cloak?

LORD GORING. With pleasure. [_Puts her cloak on_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I am never going to try to harm Robert Chilternagain.

LORD GORING. Fortunately you have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Well, if even I had the chance, I wouldn’t. On thecontrary, I am going to render him a great service.

LORD GORING. I am charmed to hear it. It is a reformation.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I can’t bear so upright a gentleman, so honourablean English gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and so—

LORD GORING. Well?

MRS. CHEVELEY. I find that somehow Gertrude Chiltern’s dying speech andconfession has strayed into my pocket.

LORD GORING. What do you mean?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a bitter note of triumph in her voice_.] I meanthat I am going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote toyou to-night.

LORD GORING. Love-letter?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Laughing_.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming toyou. Gertrude.’

[LORD GORING _rushes to the bureau and takes up the envelope_, _finds isempty_, _and turns round_.]

LORD GORING. You wretched woman, must you always be thieving? Give meback that letter. I’ll take it from you by force. You shall not leavemy room till I have got it.

[_He rushes towards her_, _but_ MRS. CHEVELEY _at once puts her hand onthe electric bell that is on the table_. _The bell sounds with shrillreverberations_, _and_ PHIPPS _enters_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Lord Goring merely rang that youshould show me out. Good-night, Lord Goring!

[_Goes out followed by_ PHIPPS. _Her face it illumined with eviltriumph_. _There is joy in her eyes_. _Youth seems to have come back toher_. _Her last glance is like a swift arrow_. LORD GORING _bites hislip_, _and lights his a cigarette_.]

ACT DROPS