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_The octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern’s house in Grosvenor Square_.

[_The room is brilliantly lighted and full of guests_. _At the top ofthe staircase stands_ LADY CHILTERN, _a woman of grave Greek beauty_,_about twenty-seven years of age_. _She receives the guests as they comeup_. _Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with waxlights_, _which illumine a large eighteenth-century Frenchtapestry—representing the Triumph of Love_, _from a design byBoucher—that is stretched on the staircase wall_. _On the right is theentrance to the music-room_. _The sound of a string quartette is faintlyheard_. _The entrance on the left leads to other reception-rooms_. MRS.MARCHMONT _and_ LADY BASILDON, _two very pretty women_, _are seatedtogether on a Louis Seize sofa_. _They are types of exquisitefragility_. _Their affectation of manner has a delicate charm_._Watteau would have loved to paint them_.]

MRS. MARCHMONT. Going on to the Hartlocks’ to-night, Margaret?

LADY BASILDON. I suppose so. Are you?

MRS. MARCHMONT. Yes. Horribly tedious parties they give, don’t they?

LADY BASILDON. Horribly tedious! Never know why I go. Never know why Igo anywhere.

MRS. MARCHMONT. I come here to be educated.

LADY BASILDON. Ah! I hate being educated!

MRS. MARCHMONT. So do I. It puts one almost on a level with thecommercial classes, doesn’t it? But dear Gertrude Chiltern is alwaystelling me that I should have some serious purpose in life. So I comehere to try to find one.

LADY BASILDON. [_Looking round through her lorgnette_.] I don’t seeanybody here to-night whom one could possibly call a serious purpose.The man who took me in to dinner talked to me about his wife the wholetime.

MRS. MARCHMONT. How very trivial of him!

LADY BASILDON. Terribly trivial! What did your man talk about?

MRS. MARCHMONT. About myself.

LADY BASILDON. [_Languidly_.] And were you interested?

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Shaking her head_.] Not in the smallest degree.

LADY BASILDON. What martyrs we are, dear Margaret!

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Rising_.] And how well it becomes us, Olivia!

[_They rise and go towards the music-room_. _The_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC, _ayoung attaché known for his neckties and his Anglomania_, _approacheswith a low bow_, _and enters into conversation_.]

MASON. [_Announcing guests from the top of the staircase_.] Mr. andLady Jane Barford. Lord Caversham.

[_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM, _an old gentleman of seventy_, _wearing theriband and star of the Garter_. _A fine Whig type_. _Rather like aportrait by Lawrence_.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Has my good-for-nothingyoung son been here?

LADY CHILTERN. [_Smiling_.] I don’t think Lord Goring has arrived yet.

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Coming up to_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] Why do you call LordGoring good-for-nothing?

[MABEL CHILTERN _is a perfect example of the English type of prettiness_,_the apple-blossom type_. _She has all the fragrance and freedom of aflower_. _There is ripple after ripple of sunlight in her hair_, _andthe little mouth_, _with its parted lips_, _is expectant_, _like themouth of a child_. _She has the fascinating tyranny of youth_, _and theastonishing courage of innocence_. _To sane people she is notreminiscent of any work of art_. _But she is really like a Tanagrastatuette_, _and would be rather annoyed if she were told so_.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Because he leads such an idle life.

MABEL CHILTERN. How can you say such a thing? Why, he rides in the Rowat ten o’clock in the morning, goes to the Opera three times a week,changes his clothes at least five times a day, and dines out every nightof the season. You don’t call that leading an idle life, do you?

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Looking at her with a kindly twinkle in his eyes_.]You are a very charming young lady!

MABEL CHILTERN. How sweet of you to say that, Lord Caversham! Do cometo us more often. You know we are always at home on Wednesdays, and youlook so well with your star!

LORD CAVERSHAM. Never go anywhere now. Sick of London Society.Shouldn’t mind being introduced to my own tailor; he always votes on theright side. But object strongly to being sent down to dinner with mywife’s milliner. Never could stand Lady Caversham’s bonnets.

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh, I love London Society! I think it has immenselyimproved. It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliantlunatics. Just what Society should be.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Hum! Which is Goring? Beautiful idiot, or the otherthing?

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Gravely_.] I have been obliged for the present to putLord Goring into a class quite by himself. But he is developingcharmingly!

LORD CAVERSHAM. Into what?

MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a little curtsey_.] I hope to let you know verysoon, Lord Caversham!

MASON. [_Announcing guests_.] Lady Markby. Mrs. Cheveley.

[_Enter_ LADY MARKBY _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY. LADY MARKBY _is a pleasant_,_kindly_, _popular woman_, _with gray hair à la marquise and good lace_.MRS. CHEVELEY, _who accompanies her_, _is tall and rather slight_. _Lipsvery thin and highly-coloured_, _a line of scarlet on a pallid face_._Venetian red hair_, _aquiline nose_, _and long throat_. _Rougeaccentuates the natural paleness of her complexion_. _Gray-green eyesthat move restlessly_. _She is in heliotrope_, _with diamonds_. _Shelooks rather like an orchid_, _and makes great demands on one’scuriosity_. _In all her movements she is extremely graceful_. _A workof art_, _on the whole_, _but showing the influence of too manyschools_.]

LADY MARKBY. Good evening, dear Gertrude! So kind of you to let mebring my friend, Mrs. Cheveley. Two such charming women should know eachother!

LADY CHILTERN. [_Advances towards_ MRS. CHEVELEY _with a sweet smile_._Then suddenly stops_, _and bows rather distantly_.] I think Mrs.Cheveley and I have met before. I did not know she had married a secondtime.

LADY MARKBY. [_Genially_.] Ah, nowadays people marry as often as theycan, don’t they? It is most fashionable. [_To_ DUCHESS OF MARYBOROUGH.]Dear Duchess, and how is the Duke? Brain still weak, I suppose? Well,that is only to be expected, is it not? His good father was just thesame. There is nothing like race, is there?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Playing with her fan_.] But have we really met before,Lady Chiltern? I can’t remember where. I have been out of England forso long.

LADY CHILTERN. We were at school together, Mrs. Cheveley.

MRS. CHEVELEY [_Superciliously_.] Indeed? I have forgotten all about myschooldays. I have a vague impression that they were detestable.

LADY CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] I am not surprised!

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In her sweetest manner_.] Do you know, I am quitelooking forward to meeting your clever husband, Lady Chiltern. Since hehas been at the Foreign Office, he has been so much talked of in Vienna.They actually succeed in spelling his name right in the newspapers. Thatin itself is fame, on the continent.

LADY CHILTERN. I hardly think there will be much in common between youand my husband, Mrs. Cheveley! [_Moves away_.]

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! chère Madame, queue surprise! I have not seenyou since Berlin!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Not since Berlin, Vicomte. Five years ago!

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. And you are younger and more beautiful than ever.How do you manage it?

MRS. CHEVELEY. By making it a rule only to talk to perfectly charmingpeople like yourself.

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! you flatter me. You butter me, as they say here.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Do they say that here? How dreadful of them!

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Yes, they have a wonderful language. It should bemore widely known.

[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _enters_. _A man of forty_, _but looking somewhatyounger_. _Clean-shaven_, _with finely-cut features_, _dark-haired anddark-eyed_. _A personality of mark_. _Not popular—few personalitiesare_. _But intensely admired by the few_, _and deeply respected by themany_. _The note of his manner is that of perfect distinction_, _with aslight touch of pride_. _One feels that he is conscious of the successhe has made in life_. _A nervous temperament_, _with a tired look_._The firmly-chiselled mouth and chin contrast strikingly with theromantic expression in the deep-set eyes_. _The variance is suggestiveof an almost complete separation of passion and intellect_, _as thoughthought and emotion were each isolated in its own sphere through someviolence of will-power_. _There is nervousness in the nostrils_, _and inthe pale_, _thin_, _pointed hands_. _It would be inaccurate to call himpicturesque_. _Picturesqueness cannot survive the House of Commons_._But Vandyck would have liked to have painted his head_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, Lady Markby! I hope you have broughtSir John with you?

LADY MARKBY. Oh! I have brought a much more charming person than SirJohn. Sir John’s temper since he has taken seriously to politics hasbecome quite unbearable. Really, now that the House of Commons is tryingto become useful, it does a great deal of harm.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope not, Lady Markby. At any rate we do ourbest to waste the public time, don’t we? But who is this charming personyou have been kind enough to bring to us?

LADY MARKBY. Her name is Mrs. Cheveley! One of the DorsetshireCheveleys, I suppose. But I really don’t know. Families are so mixednowadays. Indeed, as a rule, everybody turns out to be somebody else.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley? I seem to know the name.

LADY MARKBY. She has just arrived from Vienna.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! yes. I think I know whom you mean.

LADY MARKBY. Oh! she goes everywhere there, and has such pleasantscandals about all her friends. I really must go to Vienna next winter.I hope there is a good chef at the Embassy.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is not, the Ambassador will certainly haveto be recalled. Pray point out Mrs. Cheveley to me. I should like tosee her.

LADY MARKBY. Let me introduce you. [_To_ MRS. CHEVELEY.] My dear, SirRobert Chiltern is dying to know you!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bowing_.] Every one is dying to know thebrilliant Mrs. Cheveley. Our attachés at Vienna write to us aboutnothing else.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you, Sir Robert. An acquaintance that begins witha compliment is sure to develop into a real friendship. It starts in theright manner. And I find that I know Lady Chiltern already.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Really?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. She has just reminded me that we were at schooltogether. I remember it perfectly now. She always got the good conductprize. I have a distinct recollection of Lady Chiltern always gettingthe good conduct prize!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Smiling_.] And what prizes did you get, Mrs.Cheveley?

MRS. CHEVELEY. My prizes came a little later on in life. I don’t thinkany of them were for good conduct. I forget!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am sure they were for something charming!

MRS. CHEVELEY. I don’t know that women are always rewarded for beingcharming. I think they are usually punished for it! Certainly, morewomen grow old nowadays through the faithfulness of their admirers thanthrough anything else! At least that is the only way I can account forthe terribly haggard look of most of your pretty women in London!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What an appalling philosophy that sounds! Toattempt to classify you, Mrs. Cheveley, would be an impertinence. Butmay I ask, at heart, are you an optimist or a pessimist? Those seem tobe the only two fashionable religions left to us nowadays.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I’m neither. Optimism begins in a broad grin, andPessimism ends with blue spectacles. Besides, they are both of themmerely poses.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You prefer to be natural?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. But it is such a very difficult pose to keepup.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What would those modern psychological novelists, ofwhom we hear so much, say to such a theory as that?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Ah! the strength of women comes from the fact thatpsychology cannot explain us. Men can be analysed, women . . . merelyadored.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You think science cannot grapple with the problemof women?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Science can never grapple with the irrational. That iswhy it has no future before it, in this world.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And women represent the irrational.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Well-dressed women do.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With a polite bow_.] I fear I could hardly agreewith you there. But do sit down. And now tell me, what makes you leaveyour brilliant Vienna for our gloomy London—or perhaps the question isindiscreet?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Well, at any rate, may I know if it is politics orpleasure?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Politics are my only pleasure. You see nowadays it isnot fashionable to flirt till one is forty, or to be romantic till one isforty-five, so we poor women who are under thirty, or say we are, havenothing open to us but politics or philanthropy. And philanthropy seemsto me to have become simply the refuge of people who wish to annoy theirfellow-creatures. I prefer politics. I think they are more . . .becoming!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. A political life is a noble career!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Sometimes. And sometimes it is a clever game, SirRobert. And sometimes it is a great nuisance.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Which do you find it?

MRS. CHEVELEY. I? A combination of all three. [_Drops her fan_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Picks up fan_.] Allow me!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But you have not told me yet what makes you honourLondon so suddenly. Our season is almost over.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh! I don’t care about the London season! It is toomatrimonial. People are either hunting for husbands, or hiding fromthem. I wanted to meet you. It is quite true. You know what a woman’scuriosity is. Almost as great as a man’s! I wanted immensely to meetyou, and . . . to ask you to do something for me.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I hope it is not a little thing, Mrs. Cheveley. Ifind that little things are so very difficult to do.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a moment’s reflection_.] No, I don’t think it isquite a little thing.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am so glad. Do tell me what it is.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Later on. [_Rises_.] And now may I walk through yourbeautiful house? I hear your pictures are charming. Poor BaronArnheim—you remember the Baron?—used to tell me you had some wonderfulCorots.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With an almost imperceptible start_.] Did youknow Baron Arnheim well?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Smiling_.] Intimately. Did you?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. At one time.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Wonderful man, wasn’t he?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_After a pause_.] He was very remarkable, in manyways.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I often think it such a pity he never wrote his memoirs.They would have been most interesting.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes: he knew men and cities well, like the oldGreek.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Without the dreadful disadvantage of having a Penelopewaiting at home for him.

MASON. Lord Goring.

[_Enter_ LORD GORING. _Thirty-four_, _but always says he is younger_._A well-bred_, _expressionless face_. _He is clever_, _but would notlike to be thought so_. _A flawless dandy_, _he would be annoyed if hewere considered romantic_. _He plays with life_, _and is on perfectlygood terms with the world_. _He is fond of being misunderstood_. _Itgives him a post of vantage_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, my dear Arthur! Mrs. Cheveley, allowme to introduce to you Lord Goring, the idlest man in London.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I have met Lord Goring before.

LORD GORING. [_Bowing_.] I did not think you would remember me, Mrs.Cheveley.

MRS. CHEVELEY. My memory is under admirable control. And are you stilla bachelor?

LORD GORING. I . . . believe so.

MRS. CHEVELEY. How very romantic!

LORD GORING. Oh! I am not at all romantic. I am not old enough. Ileave romance to my seniors.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Lord Goring is the result of Boodle’s Club, Mrs.Cheveley.

MRS. CHEVELEY. He reflects every credit on the institution.

LORD GORING. May I ask are you staying in London long?

MRS. CHEVELEY. That depends partly on the weather, partly on thecooking, and partly on Sir Robert.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You are not going to plunge us into a European war,I hope?

MRS. CHEVELEY. There is no danger, at present!

[_She nods to_ LORD GORING, _with a look of amusement in her eyes_, _andgoes out with_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. LORD GORING _saunters over to_ MABELCHILTERN.]

MABEL CHILTERN. You are very late!

LORD GORING. Have you missed me?

MABEL CHILTERN. Awfully!

LORD GORING. Then I am sorry I did not stay away longer. I like beingmissed.

MABEL CHILTERN. How very selfish of you!

LORD GORING. I am very selfish.

MABEL CHILTERN. You are always telling me of your bad qualities, LordGoring.

LORD GORING. I have only told you half of them as yet, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN. Are the others very bad?

LORD GORING. Quite dreadful! When I think of them at night I go tosleep at once.

MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I delight in your bad qualities. I wouldn’t haveyou part with one of them.

LORD GORING. How very nice of you! But then you are always nice. Bythe way, I want to ask you a question, Miss Mabel. Who brought Mrs.Cheveley here? That woman in heliotrope, who has just gone out of theroom with your brother?

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh, I think Lady Markby brought her. Why do you ask?

LORD GORING. I haven’t seen her for years, that is all.

MABEL CHILTERN. What an absurd reason!

LORD GORING. All reasons are absurd.

MABEL CHILTERN. What sort of a woman is she?

LORD GORING. Oh! a genius in the daytime and a beauty at night!

MABEL CHILTERN. I dislike her already.

LORD GORING. That shows your admirable good taste.

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. [_Approaching_.] Ah, the English young lady is thedragon of good taste, is she not? Quite the dragon of good taste.

LORD GORING. So the newspapers are always telling us.

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I read all your English newspapers. I find them soamusing.

LORD GORING. Then, my dear Nanjac, you must certainly read between thelines.

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I should like to, but my professor objects. [_To_MABEL CHILTERN.] May I have the pleasure of escorting you to themusic-room, Mademoiselle?

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Looking very disappointed_.] Delighted, Vicomte,quite delighted! [_Turning to_ LORD GORING.] Aren’t you coming to themusic-room?

LORD GORING. Not if there is any music going on, Miss Mabel.

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Severely_.] The music is in German. You would notunderstand it.

[_Goes out with the_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC. LORD CAVERSHAM _comes up to hisson_.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir! what are you doing here? Wasting your lifeas usual! You should be in bed, sir. You keep too late hours! I heardof you the other night at Lady Rufford’s dancing till four o’clock in themorning!

LORD GORING. Only a quarter to four, father.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Can’t make out how you stand London Society. The thinghas gone to the dogs, a lot of damned nobodies talking about nothing.

LORD GORING. I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thingI know anything about.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You seem to me to be living entirely for pleasure.

LORD GORING. What else is there to live for, father? Nothing ages likehappiness.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You are heartless, sir, very heartless!

LORD GORING. I hope not, father. Good evening, Lady Basildon!

LADY BASILDON. [_Arching two pretty eyebrows_.] Are you here? I had noidea you ever came to political parties!

LORD GORING. I adore political parties. They are the only place left tous where people don’t talk politics.

LADY BASILDON. I delight in talking politics. I talk them all day long.But I can’t bear listening to them. I don’t know how the unfortunate menin the House stand these long debates.

LORD GORING. By never listening.

LADY BASILDON. Really?

LORD GORING. [_In his most serious manner_.] Of course. You see, it isa very dangerous thing to listen. If one listens one may be convinced;and a man who allows himself to be convinced by an argument is athoroughly unreasonable person.

LADY BASILDON. Ah! that accounts for so much in men that I have neverunderstood, and so much in women that their husbands never appreciate inthem!

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_With a sigh_.] Our husbands never appreciate anythingin us. We have to go to others for that!

LADY BASILDON. [_Emphatically_.] Yes, always to others, have we not?

LORD GORING. [_Smiling_.] And those are the views of the two ladies whoare known to have the most admirable husbands in London.

MRS. MARCHMONT. That is exactly what we can’t stand. My Reginald isquite hopelessly faultless. He is really unendurably so, at times!There is not the smallest element of excitement in knowing him.

LORD GORING. How terrible! Really, the thing should be more widelyknown!

LADY BASILDON. Basildon is quite as bad; he is as domestic as if he wasa bachelor.

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Pressing_ LADY BASILDON’S _hand_.] My poor Olivia!We have married perfect husbands, and we are well punished for it.

LORD GORING. I should have thought it was the husbands who werepunished.

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Drawing herself up_.] Oh, dear no! They are as happyas possible! And as for trusting us, it is tragic how much they trustus.

LADY BASILDON. Perfectly tragic!

LORD GORING. Or comic, Lady Basildon?

LADY BASILDON. Certainly not comic, Lord Goring. How unkind of you tosuggest such a thing!

MRS. MARCHMONT. I am afraid Lord Goring is in the camp of the enemy, asusual. I saw him talking to that Mrs. Cheveley when he came in.

LORD GORING. Handsome woman, Mrs. Cheveley!

LADY BASILDON. [_Stiffly_.] Please don’t praise other women in ourpresence. You might wait for us to do that!

LORD GORING. I did wait.

MRS. MARCHMONT. Well, we are not going to praise her. I hear she wentto the Opera on Monday night, and told Tommy Rufford at supper that, asfar as she could see, London Society was entirely made up of dowdies anddandies.

LORD GORING. She is quite right, too. The men are all dowdies and thewomen are all dandies, aren’t they?

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_After a pause_.] Oh! do you really think that is whatMrs. Cheveley meant?

LORD GORING. Of course. And a very sensible remark for Mrs. Cheveley tomake, too.

[_Enter_ MABEL CHILTERN. _She joins the group_.]

MABEL CHILTERN. Why are you talking about Mrs. Cheveley? Everybody istalking about Mrs. Cheveley! Lord Goring says—what did you say, LordGoring, about Mrs. Cheveley? Oh! I remember, that she was a genius inthe daytime and a beauty at night.

LADY BASILDON. What a horrid combination! So very unnatural!

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_In her most dreamy manner_.] I like looking atgeniuses, and listening to beautiful people.

LORD GORING. Ah! that is morbid of you, Mrs. Marchmont!

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Brightening to a look of real pleasure_.] I am soglad to hear you say that. Marchmont and I have been married for sevenyears, and he has never once told me that I was morbid. Men are sopainfully unobservant!

LADY BASILDON. [_Turning to her_.] I have always said, dear Margaret,that you were the most morbid person in London.

MRS. MARCHMONT. Ah! but you are always sympathetic, Olivia!

MABEL CHILTERN. Is it morbid to have a desire for food? I have a greatdesire for food. Lord Goring, will you give me some supper?

LORD GORING. With pleasure, Miss Mabel. [_Moves away with her_.]

MABEL CHILTERN. How horrid you have been! You have never talked to methe whole evening!

LORD GORING. How could I? You went away with the child-diplomatist.

MABEL CHILTERN. You might have followed us. Pursuit would have beenonly polite. I don’t think I like you at all this evening!

LORD GORING. I like you immensely.

MABEL CHILTERN. Well, I wish you’d show it in a more marked way! [_Theygo downstairs_.]

MRS. MARCHMONT. Olivia, I have a curious feeling of absolute faintness.I think I should like some supper very much. I know I should like somesupper.

LADY BASILDON. I am positively dying for supper, Margaret!

MRS. MARCHMONT. Men are so horribly selfish, they never think of thesethings.

LADY BASILDON. Men are grossly material, grossly material!

[_The_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC _enters from the music-room with some otherguests_. _After having carefully examined all the people present_, _heapproaches_ LADY BASILDON.]

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. May I have the honour of taking you down to supper,Comtesse?

LADY BASILDON. [_Coldly_.] I never take supper, thank you, Vicomte.[_The_ VICOMTE _is about to retire_. LADY BASILDON, _seeing this_,_rises at once and takes his arm_.] But I will come down with you withpleasure.

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I am so fond of eating! I am very English in all mytastes.

LADY BASILDON. You look quite English, Vicomte, quite English.

[_They pass out_. MR. MONTFORD, _a perfectly groomed young dandy_,_approaches_ MRS. MARCHMONT.]

MR. MONTFORD. Like some supper, Mrs. Marchmont?

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Languidly_.] Thank you, Mr. Montford, I never touchsupper. [_Rises hastily and takes his arm_.] But I will sit beside you,and watch you.

MR. MONTFORD. I don’t know that I like being watched when I am eating!

MRS. MARCHMONT. Then I will watch some one else.

MR. MONTFORD. I don’t know that I should like that either.

MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Severely_.] Pray, Mr. Montford, do not make thesepainful scenes of jealousy in public!

[_They go downstairs with the other guests_, _passing_ SIR ROBERTCHILTERN _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY, _who now enter_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And are you going to any of our country housesbefore you leave England, Mrs. Cheveley?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I can’t stand your English house-parties. InEngland people actually try to be brilliant at breakfast. That is sodreadful of them! Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast. And thenthe family skeleton is always reading family prayers. My stay in Englandreally depends on you, Sir Robert. [_Sits down on the sofa_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Taking a seat beside her_.] Seriously?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Quite seriously. I want to talk to you about a greatpolitical and financial scheme, about this Argentine Canal Company, infact.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What a tedious, practical subject for you to talkabout, Mrs. Cheveley!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I like tedious, practical subjects. What I don’tlike are tedious, practical people. There is a wide difference.Besides, you are interested, I know, in International Canal schemes. Youwere Lord Radley’s secretary, weren’t you, when the Government bought theSuez Canal shares?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes. But the Suez Canal was a very great andsplendid undertaking. It gave us our direct route to India. It hadimperial value. It was necessary that we should have control. ThisArgentine scheme is a commonplace Stock Exchange swindle.

MRS. CHEVELEY. A speculation, Sir Robert! A brilliant, daringspeculation.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Believe me, Mrs. Cheveley, it is a swindle. Let uscall things by their proper names. It makes matters simpler. We haveall the information about it at the Foreign Office. In fact, I sent outa special Commission to inquire into the matter privately, and theyreport that the works are hardly begun, and as for the money alreadysubscribed, no one seems to know what has become of it. The whole thingis a second Panama, and with not a quarter of the chance of success thatmiserable affair ever had. I hope you have not invested in it. I amsure you are far too clever to have done that.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I have invested very largely in it.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Who could have advised you to do such a foolishthing?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Your old friend—and mine.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Who?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Baron Arnheim.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Frowning_.] Ah! yes. I remember hearing, at thetime of his death, that he had been mixed up in the whole affair.

MRS. CHEVELEY. It was his last romance. His last but one, to do himjustice.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] But you have not seen my Corots yet.They are in the music-room. Corots seem to go with music, don’t they?May I show them to you?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shaking her head_.] I am not in a mood to-night forsilver twilights, or rose-pink dawns. I want to talk business.[_Motions to him with her fan to sit down again beside her_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I fear I have no advice to give you, Mrs. Cheveley,except to interest yourself in something less dangerous. The success ofthe Canal depends, of course, on the attitude of England, and I am goingto lay the report of the Commissioners before the House to-morrow night.

MRS. CHEVELEY. That you must not do. In your own interests, Sir Robert,to say nothing of mine, you must not do that.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Looking at her in wonder_.] In my own interests?My dear Mrs. Cheveley, what do you mean? [_Sits down beside her_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. Sir Robert, I will be quite frank with you. I want youto withdraw the report that you had intended to lay before the House, onthe ground that you have reasons to believe that the Commissioners havebeen prejudiced or misinformed, or something. Then I want you to say afew words to the effect that the Government is going to reconsider thequestion, and that you have reason to believe that the Canal, ifcompleted, will be of great international value. You know the sort ofthings ministers say in cases of this kind. A few ordinary platitudeswill do. In modern life nothing produces such an effect as a goodplatitude. It makes the whole world kin. Will you do that for me?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley, you cannot be serious in making mesuch a proposition!

MRS. CHEVELEY. I am quite serious.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] Pray allow me to believe that you arenot.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Speaking with great deliberation and emphasis_.] Ah!but I am. And if you do what I ask you, I . . . will pay you veryhandsomely!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Pay me!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Leaning back on the sofa and looking at him_.] Howvery disappointing! And I have come all the way from Vienna in orderthat you should thoroughly understand me.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I fear I don’t.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In her most nonchalant manner_.] My dear Sir Robert,you are a man of the world, and you have your price, I suppose.Everybody has nowadays. The drawback is that most people are sodreadfully expensive. I know I am. I hope you will be more reasonablein your terms.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rises indignantly_.] If you will allow me, Iwill call your carriage for you. You have lived so long abroad, Mrs.Cheveley, that you seem to be unable to realise that you are talking toan English gentleman.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Detains him by touching his arm with her fan_, _andkeeping it there while she is talking_.] I realise that I am talking toa man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling to a StockExchange speculator a Cabinet secret.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Biting his lip_.] What do you mean?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Rising and facing him_.] I mean that I know the realorigin of your wealth and your career, and I have got your letter, too.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What letter?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Contemptuously_.] The letter you wrote to BaronArnheim, when you were Lord Radley’s secretary, telling the Baron to buySuez Canal shares—a letter written three days before the Governmentannounced its own purchase.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Hoarsely_.] It is not true.

MRS. CHEVELEY. You thought that letter had been destroyed. How foolishof you! It is in my possession.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. The affair to which you allude was no more than aspeculation. The House of Commons had not yet passed the bill; it mighthave been rejected.

MRS. CHEVELEY. It was a swindle, Sir Robert. Let us call things bytheir proper names. It makes everything simpler. And now I am going tosell you that letter, and the price I ask for it is your public supportof the Argentine scheme. You made your own fortune out of one canal.You must help me and my friends to make our fortunes out of another!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is infamous, what you propose—infamous!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! This is the game of life as we all have to playit, Sir Robert, sooner or later!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I cannot do what you ask me.

MRS. CHEVELEY. You mean you cannot help doing it. You know you arestanding on the edge of a precipice. And it is not for you to maketerms. It is for you to accept them. Supposing you refuse—

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What then?

MRS. CHEVELEY. My dear Sir Robert, what then? You are ruined, that isall! Remember to what a point your Puritanism in England has broughtyou. In old days nobody pretended to be a bit better than hisneighbours. In fact, to be a bit better than one’s neighbour wasconsidered excessively vulgar and middle-class. Nowadays, with ourmodern mania for morality, every one has to pose as a paragon of purity,incorruptibility, and all the other seven deadly virtues—and what is theresult? You all go over like ninepins—one after the other. Not a yearpasses in England without somebody disappearing. Scandals used to lendcharm, or at least interest, to a man—now they crush him. And yours is avery nasty scandal. You couldn’t survive it. If it were known that as ayoung man, secretary to a great and important minister, you sold aCabinet secret for a large sum of money, and that that was the origin ofyour wealth and career, you would be hounded out of public life, youwould disappear completely. And after all, Sir Robert, why should yousacrifice your entire future rather than deal diplomatically with yourenemy? For the moment I am your enemy. I admit it! And I am muchstronger than you are. The big battalions are on my side. You have asplendid position, but it is your splendid position that makes you sovulnerable. You can’t defend it! And I am in attack. Of course I havenot talked morality to you. You must admit in fairness that I havespared you that. Years ago you did a clever, unscrupulous thing; itturned out a great success. You owe to it your fortune and position.And now you have got to pay for it. Sooner or later we have all to payfor what we do. You have to pay now. Before I leave you to-night, youhave got to promise me to suppress your report, and to speak in the Housein favour of this scheme.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What you ask is impossible.

MRS. CHEVELEY. You must make it possible. You are going to make itpossible. Sir Robert, you know what your English newspapers are like.Suppose that when I leave this house I drive down to some newspaperoffice, and give them this scandal and the proofs of it! Think of theirloathsome joy, of the delight they would have in dragging you down, ofthe mud and mire they would plunge you in. Think of the hypocrite withhis greasy smile penning his leading article, and arranging the foulnessof the public placard.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stop! You want me to withdraw the report and tomake a short speech stating that I believe there are possibilities in thescheme?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Sitting down on the sofa_.] Those are my terms.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_In a low voice_.] I will give you any sum ofmoney you want.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Even you are not rich enough, Sir Robert, to buy backyour past. No man is.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will not do what you ask me. I will not.

MRS. CHEVELEY. You have to. If you don’t . . . [_Rises from the sofa_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Bewildered and unnerved_.] Wait a moment! Whatdid you propose? You said that you would give me back my letter, didn’tyou?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. That is agreed. I will be in the Ladies’ Galleryto-morrow night at half-past eleven. If by that time—and you will havehad heaps of opportunity—you have made an announcement to the House inthe terms I wish, I shall hand you back your letter with the prettiestthanks, and the best, or at any rate the most suitable, compliment I canthink of. I intend to play quite fairly with you. One should alwaysplay fairly . . . when one has the winning cards. The Baron taught methat . . . amongst other things.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You must let me have time to consider yourproposal.

MRS. CHEVELEY. No; you must settle now!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Give me a week—three days!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Impossible! I have got to telegraph to Vienna to-night.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My God! what brought you into my life?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Circumstances. [_Moves towards the door_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Don’t go. I consent. The report shall bewithdrawn. I will arrange for a question to be put to me on the subject.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. I knew we should come to an amicableagreement. I understood your nature from the first. I analysed you,though you did not adore me. And now you can get my carriage for me, SirRobert. I see the people coming up from supper, and Englishmen alwaysget romantic after a meal, and that bores me dreadfully. [_Exit_ SIRROBERT CHILTERN.]

[_Enter Guests_, LADY CHILTERN, LADY MARKBY, LORD CAVERSHAM, LADYBASILDON, MRS. MARCHMONT, VICOMTE DE NANJAC, MR. MONTFORD.]

LADY MARKBY. Well, dear Mrs. Cheveley, I hope you have enjoyed yourself.Sir Robert is very entertaining, is he not?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Most entertaining! I have enjoyed my talk with himimmensely.

LADY MARKBY. He has had a very interesting and brilliant career. And hehas married a most admirable wife. Lady Chiltern is a woman of the veryhighest principles, I am glad to say. I am a little too old now, myself,to trouble about setting a good example, but I always admire people whodo. And Lady Chiltern has a very ennobling effect on life, though herdinner-parties are rather dull sometimes. But one can’t have everything,can one? And now I must go, dear. Shall I call for you to-morrow?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks.

LADY MARKBY. We might drive in the Park at five. Everything looks sofresh in the Park now!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Except the people!

LADY MARKBY. Perhaps the people are a little jaded. I have oftenobserved that the Season as it goes on produces a kind of softening ofthe brain. However, I think anything is better than high intellectualpressure. That is the most unbecoming thing there is. It makes thenoses of the young girls so particularly large. And there is nothing sodifficult to marry as a large nose; men don’t like them. Good-night,dear! [_To_ LADY CHILTERN.] Good-night, Gertrude! [_Goes out on_ LORDCAVERSHAM’S _arm_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. What a charming house you have, Lady Chiltern! I havespent a delightful evening. It has been so interesting getting to knowyour husband.

LADY CHILTERN. Why did you wish to meet my husband, Mrs. Cheveley?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I will tell you. I wanted to interest him in thisArgentine Canal scheme, of which I dare say you have heard. And I foundhim most susceptible,—susceptible to reason, I mean. A rare thing in aman. I converted him in ten minutes. He is going to make a speech inthe House to-morrow night in favour of the idea. We must go to theLadies’ Gallery and hear him! It will be a great occasion!

LADY CHILTERN. There must be some mistake. That scheme could never havemy husband’s support.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I assure you it’s all settled. I don’t regret mytedious journey from Vienna now. It has been a great success. But, ofcourse, for the next twenty-four hours the whole thing is a dead secret.

LADY CHILTERN. [_Gently_.] A secret? Between whom?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a flash of amusement in her eyes_.] Between yourhusband and myself.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Entering_.] Your carriage is here, Mrs.Cheveley!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks! Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Good-night, LordGoring! I am at Claridge’s. Don’t you think you might leave a card?

LORD GORING. If you wish it, Mrs. Cheveley!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, don’t be so solemn about it, or I shall be obliged toleave a card on you. In England I suppose that would hardly beconsidered en règle. Abroad, we are more civilised. Will you see medown, Sir Robert? Now that we have both the same interests at heart weshall be great friends, I hope!

[_Sails out on_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN’S _arm_. LADY CHILTERN _goes to thetop of the staircase and looks down at them as they descend_. _Herexpression is troubled_. _After a little time she is joined by some ofthe guests_, _and passes with them into another reception-room_.]

MABEL CHILTERN. What a horrid woman!

LORD GORING. You should go to bed, Miss Mabel.

MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring!

LORD GORING. My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don’t seewhy I shouldn’t give you the same advice. I always pass on good advice.It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.

MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, you are always ordering me out of the room.I think it most courageous of you. Especially as I am not going to bedfor hours. [_Goes over to the sofa_.] You can come and sit down if youlike, and talk about anything in the world, except the Royal Academy,Mrs. Cheveley, or novels in Scotch dialect. They are not improvingsubjects. [_Catches sight of something that is lying on the sofa halfhidden by the cushion_.] What is this? Some one has dropped a diamondbrooch! Quite beautiful, isn’t it? [_Shows it to him_.] I wish it wasmine, but Gertrude won’t let me wear anything but pearls, and I amthoroughly sick of pearls. They make one look so plain, so good and sointellectual. I wonder whom the brooch belongs to.

LORD GORING. I wonder who dropped it.

MABEL CHILTERN. It is a beautiful brooch.

LORD GORING. It is a handsome bracelet.

MABEL CHILTERN. It isn’t a bracelet. It’s a brooch.

LORD GORING. It can be used as a bracelet. [_Takes it from her_, _and_,_pulling out a green letter-case_, _puts the ornament carefully in it_,_and replaces the whole thing in his breast-pocket with the most perfectsang froid_.]

MABEL CHILTERN. What are you doing?

LORD GORING. Miss Mabel, I am going to make a rather strange request toyou.

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Eagerly_.] Oh, pray do! I have been waiting for itall the evening.

LORD GORING. [_Is a little taken aback_, _but recovers himself_.] Don’tmention to anybody that I have taken charge of this brooch. Should anyone write and claim it, let me know at once.

MABEL CHILTERN. That is a strange request.

LORD GORING. Well, you see I gave this brooch to somebody once, yearsago.

MABEL CHILTERN. You did?

LORD GORING. Yes.

[LADY CHILTERN _enters alone_. _The other guests have gone_.]

MABEL CHILTERN. Then I shall certainly bid you good-night. Good-night,Gertrude! [_Exit_.]

LADY CHILTERN. Good-night, dear! [_To_ LORD GORING.] You saw whom LadyMarkby brought here to-night?

LORD GORING. Yes. It was an unpleasant surprise. What did she comehere for?

LADY CHILTERN. Apparently to try and lure Robert to uphold somefraudulent scheme in which she is interested. The Argentine Canal, infact.

LORD GORING. She has mistaken her man, hasn’t she?

LADY CHILTERN. She is incapable of understanding an upright nature likemy husband’s!

LORD GORING. Yes. I should fancy she came to grief if she tried to getRobert into her toils. It is extraordinary what astounding mistakesclever women make.

LADY CHILTERN. I don’t call women of that kind clever. I call themstupid!

LORD GORING. Same thing often. Good-night, Lady Chiltern!

LADY CHILTERN. Good-night!

[_Enter_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, you are not going? Do stop alittle!

LORD GORING. Afraid I can’t, thanks. I have promised to look in at theHartlocks’. I believe they have got a mauve Hungarian band that playsmauve Hungarian music. See you soon. Good-bye!

[_Exit_]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. How beautiful you look to-night, Gertrude!

LADY CHILTERN. Robert, it is not true, is it? You are not going to lendyour support to this Argentine speculation? You couldn’t!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Starting_.] Who told you I intended to do so?

LADY CHILTERN. That woman who has just gone out, Mrs. Cheveley, as shecalls herself now. She seemed to taunt me with it. Robert, I know thiswoman. You don’t. We were at school together. She was untruthful,dishonest, an evil influence on every one whose trust or friendship shecould win. I hated, I despised her. She stole things, she was a thief.She was sent away for being a thief. Why do you let her influence you?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, what you tell me may be true, but ithappened many years ago. It is best forgotten! Mrs. Cheveley may havechanged since then. No one should be entirely judged by their past.

LADY CHILTERN. [_Sadly_.] One’s past is what one is. It is the onlyway by which people should be judged.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That is a hard saying, Gertrude!

LADY CHILTERN. It is a true saying, Robert. And what did she mean byboasting that she had got you to lend your support, your name, to a thingI have heard you describe as the most dishonest and fraudulent schemethere has ever been in political life?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Biting his lip_.] I was mistaken in the view Itook. We all may make mistakes.

LADY CHILTERN. But you told me yesterday that you had received thereport from the Commission, and that it entirely condemned the wholething.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Walking up and down_.] I have reasons now tobelieve that the Commission was prejudiced, or, at any rate, misinformed.Besides, Gertrude, public and private life are different things. Theyhave different laws, and move on different lines.

LADY CHILTERN. They should both represent man at his highest. I see nodifference between them.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Stopping_.] In the present case, on a matter ofpractical politics, I have changed my mind. That is all.

LADY CHILTERN. All!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sternly_.] Yes!

LADY CHILTERN. Robert! Oh! it is horrible that I should have to ask yousuch a question—Robert, are you telling me the whole truth?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Why do you ask me such a question?

LADY CHILTERN. [_After a pause_.] Why do you not answer it?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sitting down_.] Gertrude, truth is a verycomplex thing, and politics is a very complex business. There are wheelswithin wheels. One may be under certain obligations to people that onemust pay. Sooner or later in political life one has to compromise.Every one does.

LADY CHILTERN. Compromise? Robert, why do you talk so differentlyto-night from the way I have always heard you talk? Why are you changed?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am not changed. But circumstances alter things.

LADY CHILTERN. Circumstances should never alter principles!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But if I told you—

LADY CHILTERN. What?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That it was necessary, vitally necessary?

LADY CHILTERN. It can never be necessary to do what is not honourable.Or if it be necessary, then what is it that I have loved! But it is not,Robert; tell me it is not. Why should it be? What gain would you get?Money? We have no need of that! And money that comes from a taintedsource is a degradation. Power? But power is nothing in itself. It ispower to do good that is fine—that, and that only. What is it, then?Robert, tell me why you are going to do this dishonourable thing!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, you have no right to use that word. Itold you it was a question of rational compromise. It is no more thanthat.

LADY CHILTERN. Robert, that is all very well for other men, for men whotreat life simply as a sordid speculation; but not for you, Robert, notfor you. You are different. All your life you have stood apart fromothers. You have never let the world soil you. To the world, as tomyself, you have been an ideal always. Oh! be that ideal still. Thatgreat inheritance throw not away—that tower of ivory do not destroy.Robert, men can love what is beneath them—things unworthy, stained,dishonoured. We women worship when we love; and when we lose ourworship, we lose everything. Oh! don’t kill my love for you, don’t killthat!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude!

LADY CHILTERN. I know that there are men with horrible secrets in theirlives—men who have done some shameful thing, and who in some criticalmoment have to pay for it, by doing some other act of shame—oh! don’ttell me you are such as they are! Robert, is there in your life anysecret dishonour or disgrace? Tell me, tell me at once, that—

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. That what?

LADY CHILTERN. [_Speaking very slowly_.] That our lives may driftapart.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Drift apart?

LADY CHILTERN. That they may be entirely separate. It would be betterfor us both.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, there is nothing in my past life that youmight not know.

LADY CHILTERN. I was sure of it, Robert, I was sure of it. But why didyou say those dreadful things, things so unlike your real self? Don’tlet us ever talk about the subject again. You will write, won’t you, toMrs. Cheveley, and tell her that you cannot support this scandalousscheme of hers? If you have given her any promise you must take it back,that is all!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Must I write and tell her that?

LADY CHILTERN. Surely, Robert! What else is there to do?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I might see her personally. It would be better.

LADY CHILTERN. You must never see her again, Robert. She is not a womanyou should ever speak to. She is not worthy to talk to a man like you.No; you must write to her at once, now, this moment, and let your lettershow her that your decision is quite irrevocable!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Write this moment!

LADY CHILTERN. Yes.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But it is so late. It is close on twelve.

LADY CHILTERN. That makes no matter. She must know at once that she hasbeen mistaken in you—and that you are not a man to do anything base orunderhand or dishonourable. Write here, Robert. Write that you declineto support this scheme of hers, as you hold it to be a dishonest scheme.Yes—write the word dishonest. She knows what that word means. [SIRROBERT CHILTERN _sits down and writes a letter_. _His wife takes it upand reads it_.] Yes; that will do. [_Rings bell_.] And now theenvelope. [_He writes the envelope slowly_. _Enter_ MASON.] Have thisletter sent at once to Claridge’s Hotel. There is no answer. [_Exit_MASON. LADY CHILTERN _kneels down beside her husband_, _and puts herarms around him_.] Robert, love gives one an instinct to things. I feelto-night that I have saved you from something that might have been adanger to you, from something that might have made men honour you lessthan they do. I don’t think you realise sufficiently, Robert, that youhave brought into the political life of our time a nobler atmosphere, afiner attitude towards life, a freer air of purer aims and higherideals—I know it, and for that I love you, Robert.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh, love me always, Gertrude, love me always!

LADY CHILTERN. I will love you always, because you will always be worthyof love. We needs must love the highest when we see it! [_Kisses himand rises and goes out_.]

[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _walks up and down for a moment_; _then sits downand buries his face in his hands_. _The Servant enters and beginspulling out the lights_. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _looks up_.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Put out the lights, Mason, put out the lights!

[_The Servant puts out the lights_. _The room becomes almost dark_._The only light there is comes from the great chandelier that hangs overthe staircase and illumines the tapestry of the Triumph of Love_.]