<h2>THIRD ACT</h2>
<h3>SCENE</h3>
<p><i>The Library in Lord Goring’s house</i>. <i>An
Adam room</i>. <i>On the right is the door leading into the
hall</i>. <i>On the left</i>, <i>the door of the
smoking-room</i>. <i>A pair of folding doors at the back
open into the drawing-room</i>. <i>The fire is
lit</i>. <i>Phipps</i>, <i>the butler</i>, <i>is arranging
some newspapers on the writing-table</i>. <i>The
distinction of Phipps is his impassivity</i>. <i>He has been
termed by enthusiasts the Ideal Butler</i>. <i>The Sphinx
is not so incommunicable</i>. <i>He is a mask with a
manner</i>. <i>Of his intellectual or emotional life</i>,
<i>history knows nothing</i>. <i>He represents the
dominance of form</i>.</p>
<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>in
evening dress with a buttonhole</i>. <i>He is wearing a
silk hat and Inverness cape</i>. <i>White-gloved</i>, <i>he
carries a Louis Seize cane</i>. <i>His are all the delicate
fopperies of Fashion</i>. <i>One sees that he stands in
immediate relation to modern life</i>, <i>makes it indeed</i>,
<i>and so masters it</i>. <i>He is the first well-dressed
philosopher in the history of thought</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Got my second
buttonhole for me, Phipps?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.
[<i>Takes his hat</i>, <i>cane</i>, <i>and cape</i>, <i>and
presents new buttonhole on salver</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Rather
distinguished thing, Phipps. I am the only person of the
smallest importance in London at present who wears a
buttonhole.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord. I
have observed that,</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Taking out
old buttonhole</i>.] You see, Phipps, Fashion is what one
wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people
wear.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Just as
vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Putting in a
new buttonhole</i>.] And falsehoods the truths of other
people.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Other people are
quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. To love oneself
is the beginning of a lifelong romance, Phipps.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Looking at
himself in the glass</i>.] Don’t think I quite like
this buttonhole, Phipps. Makes me look a little too
old. Makes me almost in the prime of life, eh, Phipps?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I don’t observe
any alteration in your lordship’s appearance.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You don’t,
Phipps?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. No, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am not quite
sure. For the future a more trivial buttonhole, Phipps, on
Thursday evenings.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I will speak to the
florist, my lord. She has had a loss in her family lately,
which perhaps accounts for the lack of triviality your lordship
complains of in the buttonhole.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Extraordinary
thing about the lower classes in England—they are always
losing their relations.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord!
They are extremely fortunate in that respect.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Turns round
and looks at him</i>. <span class="smcap">phipps</span>
<i>remains impassive</i>.] Hum! Any letters,
Phipps?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Three, my lord.
[<i>Hands letters on a salver</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Takes
letters</i>.] Want my cab round in twenty minutes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.
[<i>Goes towards door</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Holds up
letter in pink envelope</i>.] Ahem! Phipps, when did
this letter arrive?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. It was brought by
hand just after your lordship went to the club.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. That will
do. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.]
Lady Chiltern’s handwriting on Lady Chiltern’s pink
notepaper. That is rather curious. I thought Robert
was to write. Wonder what Lady Chiltern has got to say to
me? [<i>Sits at bureau and opens letter</i>, <i>and reads
it</i>.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am
coming to you. Gertrude.’ [<i>Puts down the
letter with a puzzled look</i>. <i>Then takes it up</i>,
<i>and reads it again slowly</i>.] ‘I want you.
I trust you. I am coming to you.’ So she has
found out everything! Poor woman! Poor woman! [
<i>Pulls out watch and looks at it</i>.] But what an hour
to call! Ten o’clock! I shall have to give up
going to the Berkshires. However, it is always nice to be
expected, and not to arrive. I am not expected at the
Bachelors’, so I shall 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 any woman to
do. It is the growth of the moral sense in women that makes
marriage such a hopeless, one-sided institution. Ten
o’clock. She should be here soon. I must tell
Phipps I am not in to any one else. [<i>Goes towards
bell</i>]</p>
<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Lord Caversham.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh, why will
parents always appear at the wrong time? Some extraordinary
mistake in nature, I suppose. [<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.] Delighted to see you,
my dear father. [<i>Goes to meet him</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Take my cloak
off.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Is it worth
while, father?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Of course it
is worth while, sir. Which is the most comfortable
chair?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. This one,
father. It is the chair I use myself, when I have
visitors.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Thank
ye. No draught, I hope, in this room?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. [<i>Sitting
down</i>.] Glad to hear it. Can’t stand
draughts. No draughts at home.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Good many
breezes, father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Eh?
Eh? Don’t understand what you mean. Want to
have a serious conversation with you, sir.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear
father! At this hour?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, sir, it
is only ten o’clock. What is your objection to the
hour? I think the hour is an admirable hour!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well, the fact
is, father, this is not my day for talking seriously. I am
very sorry, but it is not my day.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. What do you
mean, sir?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. During the
Season, father, I only talk seriously on the first Tuesday in
every month, from four to seven.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, make it
Tuesday, sir, make it Tuesday.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. But it is after
seven, father, and my doctor says I must not have any serious
conversation after seven. It makes me talk in my sleep.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Talk in your
sleep, sir? What does that matter? You are not
married.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, father, I am
not married.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. 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 your
age, sir, I had been an inconsolable widower for three months,
and was already paying my addresses to your admirable
mother. Damme, sir, it is your duty to get married.
You can’t be always living for pleasure. Every man of
position is married nowadays. Bachelors are not fashionable
any more. They are a damaged lot. Too much is known
about them. You must get a wife, sir. Look where your
friend Robert Chiltern has got to by probity, hard work, and a
sensible marriage with a good woman. Why don’t you
imitate him, sir? Why don’t you take him for your
model?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I think I shall,
father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I wish you
would, sir. Then I should be happy. At present I make
your mother’s life miserable on your account. You are
heartless, sir, quite heartless.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I hope not,
father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. And it is
high time for you to get married. You are thirty-four years
of age, sir.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes, father, but
I only admit to thirty-two—thirty-one and a half when I
have a really good buttonhole. This buttonhole is not . . .
trivial enough.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I tell you
you are thirty-four, sir. And there is a draught in your
room, besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why did you
tell me there was no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I
feel it distinctly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. So do I,
father. It is a dreadful draught. I will come and see
you to-morrow, father. We can talk over anything you
like. Let me help you on with your cloak, father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. No, sir; I
have called this evening for a definite purpose, and I am going
to see it through at all costs to my health or yours. Put
down my cloak, sir.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly,
father. But let us go into another room. [<i>Rings
bell</i>.] There is a dreadful draught here.
[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.] Phipps,
is there a good fire in the smoking-room?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Come in there,
father. Your sneezes are quite heartrending.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, sir, I
suppose I have a right to sneeze when I choose?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.
[<i>Apologetically</i>.] Quite so, father. I was
merely expressing sympathy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Oh, damn
sympathy. There is a great deal too much of that sort of
thing going on nowadays.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I quite agree
with you, father. If there was less sympathy in the world
there would be less trouble in the world.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. [<i>Going
towards the smoking-room</i>.] That is a paradox,
sir. I hate paradoxes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. So do I,
father. Everybody one meets is a paradox nowadays. It
is a great bore. It makes society so obvious.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. [<i>Turning
round</i>, <i>and looking at his son beneath his bushy
eyebrows</i>.] Do you always really understand what you
say, sir?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After some
hesitation</i>.] Yes, father, if I listen attentively.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.
[<i>Indignantly</i>.] If you listen attentively! . . .
Conceited young puppy!</p>
<p>[<i>Goes off grumbling into the smoking-room</i>. <span class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Phipps, there is
a lady coming to see me this evening on particular
business. Show her into the drawing-room when she
arrives. You understand?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It is a matter
of the gravest importance, Phipps.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I understand, my
lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No one else is
to be admitted, under any circumstances.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I understand, my
lord. [<i>Bell rings</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! that is
probably the lady. I shall see her myself.</p>
<p>[<i>Just as he is going towards the door</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span> <i>enters from the
smoking-room</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Well, sir? am
I to wait attendance on you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Considerably
perplexed</i>.] In a moment, father. Do excuse
me. [<span class="smcap">lord caversham</span> <i>goes
back</i>.] Well, remember my instructions,
Phipps—into that room.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>goes into the
smoking-room</i>. <span class="smcap">harold</span>, <i>the
footman shows</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>
<i>in</i>. <i>Lamia-like</i>, <i>she is in green and
silver</i>. <i>She has a cloak of black satin</i>, <i>lined
with dead rose-leaf silk</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">harold</span>. What name, madam?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">phipps</span>, <i>who advances towards
her</i>.] Is Lord Goring not here? I was told he was
at home?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. His lordship is
engaged at present with Lord Caversham, madam.</p>
<p>[<i>Turns a cold</i>, <i>glassy eye on</i> <span class="smcap">harold</span>, <i>who at once retires</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>To
herself</i>.] How very filial!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. His lordship told me
to ask you, madam, to be kind enough to wait in the drawing-room
for him. His lordship will come to you there.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a
look of surprise</i>.] Lord Goring expects me?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, madam.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Are you quite
sure?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. His lordship told me
that if a lady called I was to ask her to wait in the
drawing-room. [<i>Goes to the door of the drawing-room and
opens it</i>.] His lordship’s directions on the
subject were very precise.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>To
herself</i>] How thoughtful of him! To expect the
unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect. [<i>Goes
towards the drawing-room and looks in</i>.] Ugh! How
dreary a bachelor’s drawing-room always looks. I
shall have to alter all this. [<span class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>brings the lamp from the
writing-table</i>.] No, I don’t care for that
lamp. It is far too glaring. Light some candles.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. [<i>Replaces
lamp</i>.] Certainly, madam.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I hope the
candles have very becoming shades.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. We have had no
complaints about them, madam, as yet.</p>
<p>[<i>Passes into the drawing-room and begins to light the
candles</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>To
herself</i>.] I wonder what woman he is waiting for
to-night. It will be delightful to catch him. Men
always look so silly when they are caught. And they are
always being caught. [<i>Looks about room and approaches
the writing-table</i>.] What a very interesting room!
What a very interesting picture! Wonder what his
correspondence is like. [<i>Takes up letters</i>.]
Oh, what a very uninteresting correspondence! Bills and
cards, debts and dowagers! Who on earth writes to him on
pink paper? How silly to write on pink paper! It
looks like the beginning of a middle-class romance. Romance
should never begin with sentiment. It should begin with
science and end with a settlement. [<i>Puts letter
down</i>, <i>then takes it up again</i>.] I know that
handwriting. That is Gertrude Chiltern’s. I
remember it perfectly. The ten commandments in every stroke
of the pen, and the moral law all over the page. Wonder
what Gertrude is writing to him about? Something horrid
about me, I suppose. How I detest that woman!
[<i>Reads it</i>.] ‘I trust you. I want
you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’
‘I trust you. I want you. I am coming to
you.’</p>
<p>[<i>A look of triumph comes over her face</i>. <i>She is
just about to steal the letter</i>, <i>when</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>comes in</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. The candles in the
drawing-room are lit, madam, as you directed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thank
you. [<i>Rises hastily and slips the letter under a large
silver-cased blotting-book that is lying on the table</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. I trust the shades
will be to your liking, madam. They are the most becoming
we have. They are the same as his lordship uses himself
when he is dressing for dinner.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a
smile</i>.] Then I am sure they will be perfectly
right.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>.
[<i>Gravely</i>.] Thank you, madam.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>goes into the
drawing-room</i>. <span class="smcap">phipps</span>
<i>closes the door and retires</i>. <i>The door is then
slowly opened</i>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">mrs.
cheveley</span> <i>comes out and creeps stealthily towards the
writing-table</i>. <i>Suddenly voices are heard from the
smoking-room</i>. <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>
<i>grows pale</i>, <i>and stops</i>. <i>The voices grow
louder</i>, <i>and she goes back into the drawing-room</i>,
<i>biting her lip</i>.]</p>
<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.
[<i>Expostulating</i>.] My dear father, if I am to get
married, surely you will allow me to choose the time, place, and
person? Particularly the person.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>.
[<i>Testily</i>.] That is a matter for me, sir. You
would probably make a very poor choice. It is I who should
be consulted, not you. There is property at stake. It
is not a matter for affection. Affection comes later on in
married life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes. In
married life affection comes when people thoroughly dislike each
other, father, doesn’t it? [<i>Puts on</i> <span class="smcap">lord caversham’s</span> <i>cloak for
him</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. Certainly,
sir. I mean certainly not, air. You are talking very
foolishly to-night. What I say is that marriage is a matter
for common sense.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. But women who
have common sense are so curiously plain, father, aren’t
they? Of course I only speak from hearsay.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. No woman,
plain or pretty, has any common sense at all, sir. Common
sense is the privilege of our sex.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Quite so.
And we men are so self-sacrificing that we never use it, do we,
father?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. I use it,
sir. I use nothing else.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. So my mother
tells me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord caversham</span>. It is the
secret of your mother’s happiness. You are very
heartless, sir, very heartless.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I hope not,
father.</p>
<p>[<i>Goes out for a moment</i>. <i>Then returns</i>,
<i>looking rather put out</i>, <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. My dear
Arthur, what a piece of good luck meeting you on the
doorstep! Your servant had just told me you were not at
home. How extraordinary!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. The fact is, I
am horribly busy to-night, Robert, and I gave orders I was not at
home to any one. Even my father had a comparatively cold
reception. He complained of a draught the whole time.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Ah! you
must be at home to me, Arthur. You are my best
friend. Perhaps by to-morrow you will be my only
friend. My wife has discovered everything.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Ah! I guessed as
much!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.
[<i>Looking at him</i>.] Really! How?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After some
hesitation</i>.] Oh, merely by something in the expression
of your face as you came in. Who told her?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Mrs.
Cheveley herself. And the woman I love knows that I began
my career with an act of low dishonesty, that I built up my life
upon sands of shame—that I sold, like a common huckster,
the secret that had been intrusted to me as a man of
honour. I thank heaven poor Lord Radley died without
knowing that I betrayed him. I would to God I had died
before I had been so horribly tempted, or had fallen so
low. [<i>Burying his face in his hands</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>After a
pause</i>.] You have heard nothing from Vienna yet, in
answer to your wire?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.
[<i>Looking up</i>.] Yes; I got a telegram from the first
secretary at eight o’clock to-night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Nothing
is absolutely known against her. On the contrary, she
occupies a rather high position in society. It is a sort of
open secret that Baron Arnheim left her the greater portion of
his immense fortune. Beyond that I can learn nothing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. She
doesn’t turn out to be a spy, then?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Oh!
spies are of no use nowadays. Their profession is
over. The newspapers do their work instead.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. And thunderingly
well they do it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Arthur,
I am parched with thirst. May I ring for something?
Some hock and seltzer?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly.
Let me. [<i>Rings the bell</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.
Thanks! I don’t know what to do, Arthur, I
don’t know what to do, and you are my only friend.
But what a friend you are—the one friend I can trust.
I can trust you absolutely, can’t I?</p>
<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear Robert,
of course. Oh! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.] Bring some hock and
seltzer.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. And Phipps!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Will you excuse
me for a moment, Robert? I want to give some directions to
my servant.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.
Certainly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. When that lady
calls, tell her that I am not expected home this evening.
Tell her that I have been suddenly called out of town. You
understand?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. The lady is in that
room, my lord. You told me to show her into that room, my
lord.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You did
perfectly right. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>.] What a mess I am in.
No; I think I shall get through it. I’ll give her a
lecture through the door. Awkward thing to manage,
though.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Arthur,
tell me what I should do. My life seems to have crumbled
about me. I am a ship without a rudder in a night without a
star.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, you love
your wife, don’t you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I love
her more than anything in the world. I used to think
ambition the great thing. It is not. Love is the
great thing in the world. There is nothing but love, and I
love her. But I am defamed in her eyes. I am ignoble
in her eyes. There is a wide gulf between us now. She
has found me out, Arthur, she has found me out.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Has she never in
her life done some folly—some indiscretion—that she
should not forgive your sin?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. My
wife! Never! She does not know what weakness or
temptation is. I am of clay like other men. She
stands apart as good women 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
to love, no one else to love me. Perhaps if God had sent us
children she might have been kinder to me. But God has
given us a lonely house. And she has cut my heart in
two. Don’t let us talk of it. I was brutal to
her this evening. But I suppose when sinners talk to saints
they are brutal always. I said to her things that were
hideously true, on my side, from my stand-point, from the
standpoint of men. But don’t let us talk of that.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Your wife will
forgive you. Perhaps at this moment she is forgiving
you. She loves you, Robert. Why should she not
forgive?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. God
grant it! God grant it! [<i>Buries his face in his
hands</i>.] But there is something more I have to tell you,
Arthur.</p>
<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>with
drinks</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. [<i>Hands hock and
seltzer to</i> <span class="smcap">sir robert
chiltern</span>.] Hock and seltzer, sir.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Thank
you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Is your carriage
here, Robert?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. No; I
walked from the club.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Sir Robert will
take my cab, Phipps.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">phipps</span>. Yes, my lord.
[<i>Exit</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, you
don’t mind my sending you away?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Arthur,
you must let me stay for five minutes. I have made up my
mind what I am going to do to-night in the House. The
debate on the Argentine Canal is to begin at eleven. [<i>A
chair falls in the drawing-room</i>.] What is that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Nothing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. I heard
a chair fall in the next room. Some one has been
listening.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, no; there is
no one there.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. There is
some one. There are lights in the room, and the door is
ajar. Some one has been listening to every secret of my
life. Arthur, what does this mean?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, you are
excited, unnerved. I tell you there is no one in that room.
Sit down, Robert.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Do you
give me your word that there is no one there?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Your
word of honour? [<i>Sits down</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.
[<i>Rises</i>.] Arthur, let me see for myself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. No, no.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. If there
is no one there why should I not look in that 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, you don’t realise what I am going
through.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, this
must stop. I have told you that there is no one in that
room—that is enough.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>.
[<i>Rushes to the door of the room</i>.] It is not
enough. I insist on going into this room. You have
told me there is no one there, so what reason can you have for
refusing me?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. For God’s
sake, don’t! There is some one there. Some one
whom you must not see.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Ah, I
thought so!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I forbid you to
enter that room.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Stand
back. My life is at stake. And I don’t care who
is there. I will know who it is to whom I have told my
secret and my shame. [<i>Enters room</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Great heavens!
his own wife!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>comes
back</i>, <i>with a look of scorn and anger on his face</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. What
explanation have you to give me for the presence of that woman
here?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Robert, I swear
to you on my honour that that lady is stainless and guiltless of
all offence towards you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. She is a
vile, an infamous thing!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Don’t say
that, Robert! It was for your sake she came here. It
was to try and save you she came here. She loves you and no
one else.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. You are
mad. What have I to do with her intrigues with you?
Let her remain your mistress! You are well suited to each
other. She, corrupt and shameful—you, false as a
friend, treacherous as an enemy even—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. It is not true,
Robert. Before heaven, it is not true. In her
presence and in yours I will explain all.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span>. Let me
pass, sir. You have lied enough upon your word of
honour.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">sir robert chiltern</span> <i>goes
out</i>. <span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>rushes
to the door of the drawing-room</i>, <i>when</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>comes out</i>, <i>looking
radiant and much amused</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a
mock curtsey</i>] Good evening, Lord Goring!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Mrs.
Cheveley! Great heavens! . . . May I ask what you were
doing in my drawing-room?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Merely
listening. I have a perfect passion for listening through
keyholes. One always hears such wonderful things through
them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Doesn’t
that sound rather like tempting Providence?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh! surely
Providence can resist temptation by this time. [<i>Makes a
sign to him to take her cloak off</i>, <i>which he does</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am glad you
have called. I am going to give you some good advice.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Oh! pray
don’t. One should never give a woman anything that
she can’t wear in the evening.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I see you are
quite as wilful as you used to be.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Far
more! I have greatly improved. I have had more
experience.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Too much
experience is a dangerous thing. Pray have a
cigarette. Half the pretty women in London smoke
cigarettes. Personally I prefer the other half.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. 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? What the second duty is, no one has as yet
discovered.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You have come
here to sell me Robert Chiltern’s letter, haven’t
you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. To offer it to
you on conditions. How did you guess that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Because you
haven’t mentioned the subject. Have you got it with
you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Sitting
down</i>.] Oh, no! A well-made dress has no
pockets.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What is your
price for it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. How absurdly
English you are! The English think that a cheque-book can
solve every problem in life. Why, my dear Arthur, I have
very much more money than you have, and quite as much as Robert
Chiltern has got hold of. Money is not what I want.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What do you want
then, Mrs. Cheveley?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Why
don’t you call me Laura?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I don’t
like the name.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. You used to
adore it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes:
that’s why. [<span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>
<i>motions to him to sit down beside her</i>. <i>He
smiles</i>, <i>and does so</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Arthur, you
loved me once.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. And you asked
me to be your wife.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. That was the
natural result of my loving you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. 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 the conservatory
at Tenby.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am under the
impression that my lawyer settled that matter with you on certain
terms . . . dictated by yourself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. At that time I
was poor; you were rich.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Quite so.
That is why you pretended to love me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Shrugging
her shoulders</i>.] Poor old Lord Mortlake, who had only
two topics of conversation, his gout and his wife! I never
could quite make out which of the two he was talking about.
He used the most horrible language about them both. Well,
you were silly, Arthur. Why, Lord Mortlake was never
anything more to me than an amusement. One of those utterly
tedious amusements one only finds at an English country house on
an English country Sunday. I don’t think any one at
all morally responsible for what he or she does at an English
country house.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes. I
know lots of people think that.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I loved you,
Arthur.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. My dear Mrs.
Cheveley, you have always been far too clever to know anything
about love.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I did love
you. And you loved me. You know you loved me; and
love is a very wonderful thing. I suppose that when a man
has once loved a woman, he will do anything for her, except
continue to love her? [<i>Puts her hand on his</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Taking his
hand away quietly</i>.] Yes: except that.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>After a
pause</i>.] I am tired of living abroad. I want to
come back to London. I want to have a charming house
here. I want to have a salon. If one could only teach
the English how to talk, and the Irish how to listen, society
here would be quite civilised. Besides, I have arrived at
the romantic stage. When I saw you last night at the
Chilterns’, I knew you were the only person I had ever
cared for, if I ever have cared for anybody, Arthur. And
so, on the morning of the day you marry me, I will give you
Robert Chiltern’s letter. That is my offer. I
will give it to you now, if you promise to marry me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Now?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>.
[<i>Smiling</i>.] To-morrow.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Are you really
serious?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes, quite
serious.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I should make
you a very bad husband.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I don’t
mind bad husbands. I have had two. They amused me
immensely.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You mean that
you amused yourself immensely, don’t you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. What do you
know about my married life?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Nothing: but I
can read it like a book.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. What book?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.
[<i>Rising</i>.] The Book of Numbers.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Do you think
it is quite charming of you to be so rude to a woman in your own
house?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. In the case of
very fascinating women, sex is a challenge, not a defence.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I suppose that
is meant for a compliment. My dear Arthur, women are never
disarmed by compliments. Men always are. That is the
difference between the two sexes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Women are never
disarmed by anything, as far as I know them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>After a
pause</i>.] Then you are going to allow your greatest
friend, Robert Chiltern, to be ruined, rather than marry some one
who really has considerable attractions left. I thought you
would have risen to some great height of self-sacrifice,
Arthur. I think you should. And the rest of your life
you could spend in contemplating your own perfections.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh! I do that as
it is. And self-sacrifice is a thing that should be put
down by law. It is so demoralising to the people for whom
one sacrifices oneself. They always go to the bad.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. As if anything
could demoralise Robert Chiltern! You seem to forget that I
know his real character.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What you know
about him is not his real character. It was an act of folly
done in his youth, dishonourable, I admit, shameful, I admit,
unworthy of him, I admit, and therefore . . . not his true
character.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. How you men
stand up for each other!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. How you women
war against each other!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>.
[<i>Bitterly</i>.] I only war against one woman, against
Gertrude Chiltern. I hate her. I hate her now more
than ever.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Because you have
brought a real tragedy into her life, I suppose.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a
sneer</i>.] Oh, there is only one real tragedy in a
woman’s life. The fact that her past is always her
lover, and her future invariably her husband.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Lady Chiltern
knows nothing of the kind of life to which you are alluding.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. A woman whose
size in gloves is seven and three-quarters never knows much about
anything. You know Gertrude has always worn seven and
three-quarters? That is one of the reasons why there was
never any moral sympathy between us. . . . Well, Arthur, I
suppose this romantic interview may be regarded as at an
end. You admit it was romantic, don’t you? For
the privilege of being your wife I was ready to surrender a great
prize, the climax of my diplomatic career. You
decline. Very well. If Sir Robert doesn’t
uphold my Argentine scheme, I expose him. Voilà
tout.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You
mustn’t do that. It would be vile, horrible,
infamous.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Shrugging
her shoulders</i>.] 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 sell Robert Chiltern a certain
thing. If he won’t pay me my price, he will have to
pay the world a greater price. There is no more to be
said. I must go. Good-bye. Won’t you
shake hands?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. With you?
No. Your transaction with Robert Chiltern may pass as a
loathsome commercial transaction of a loathsome commercial age;
but you seem to have forgotten that you came here to-night to
talk of love, you whose lips desecrated the word love, you to
whom the thing is a book closely sealed, went this afternoon to
the house of one of the most noble 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, and bitterness in her life, to
break her idol, and, it may be, spoil her soul. That I
cannot forgive you. That was horrible. For that there
can be no forgiveness.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Arthur, you
are unjust to me. Believe me, you are quite unjust to
me. I didn’t go to taunt Gertrude at all. I had
no idea of doing anything of the kind when I entered. I
called with Lady Markby simply to ask whether an ornament, a
jewel, that I lost somewhere last night, had been found at the
Chilterns’. If you don’t believe me, you can
ask Lady Markby. She will tell you it is true. The
scene that occurred happened after Lady Markby had left, and was
really forced on me by Gertrude’s rudeness and
sneers. I called, oh!—a little out of malice if you
like—but really to ask if a diamond brooch of mine had been
found. That was the origin of the whole thing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. A diamond
snake-brooch with a ruby?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. How
do you know?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Because it is
found. In point of fact, I found it myself, and stupidly
forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I was
leaving. [<i>Goes over to the writing-table and pulls out
the drawers</i>.] It is in this drawer. No, that
one. This is the brooch, isn’t it? [<i>Holds up
the brooch</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. I
am so glad to get it back. It was . . a present.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Won’t you
wear it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Certainly, if
you pin it in. [<span class="smcap">lord goring</span>
<i>suddenly clasps it on her arm</i>.] Why do you put it on
as a bracelet? I never knew it could he worn as a
bracelet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Really?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Holding
out her handsome arm</i>.] No; but it looks very well on me
as a bracelet, doesn’t it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Yes; much better
than when I saw it last.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. When did you
see it last?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.
[<i>Calmly</i>.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, from
whom you stole it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>.
[<i>Starting</i>.] What do you mean?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I mean that you
stole that ornament from my cousin, Mary Berkshire, to whom I
gave it when she was married. Suspicion fell on a wretched
servant, who was sent away in disgrace. I recognised it
last night. 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.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Tossing
her head</i>.] It is not true.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You know it is
true. Why, thief is written across your face at this
moment.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I will deny
the whole affair from beginning to end. I will say that I
have never seen this wretched thing, that it was never in my
possession.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>tries to get the
bracelet off her arm</i>, <i>but fails</i>. <span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>looks on amused</i>.
<i>Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to no purpose</i>.
<i>A curse breaks from her</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. The drawback of
stealing a thing, Mrs. Cheveley, is that one never knows how
wonderful the thing that one steals is. You can’t get
that bracelet off, unless you know where the spring is. And
I see you don’t know where the spring is. It is
rather difficult to find.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. You
brute! You coward! [<i>She tries again to unclasp the
bracelet</i>, <i>but fails</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Oh! don’t
use big words. They mean so little.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Again
tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage</i>, <i>with
inarticulate sounds</i>. <i>Then stops</i>, <i>and looks
at</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span>.] What are
you going to do?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am going to
ring for my servant. He is an admirable servant.
Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes
I will tell him to fetch the police.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>.
[<i>Trembling</i>.] The police? What for?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. To-morrow the
Berkshires will prosecute you. That is what the police are
for.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Is now in
an agony of physical terror</i>. <i>Her face is
distorted</i>. <i>Her mouth awry</i>. <i>A mask has
fallen from her</i>. <i>She it</i>, <i>for the moment</i>,
<i>dreadful to look at</i>.] Don’t do that. I
will do anything you want. Anything in the world you
want.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Give me Robert
Chiltern’s letter.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Stop!
Stop! Let me have time to think.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Give me Robert
Chiltern’s letter.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I have not got
it with me. I will give it to you to-morrow.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You know you are
lying. Give it to me at once. [<span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>pulls the letter out</i>,
<i>and hands it to him</i>. <i>She is horribly
pale</i>.] This is it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>In a
hoarse voice</i>.] Yes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. [<i>Takes the
letter</i>, <i>examines it</i>, <i>sighs</i>, <i>and burns it
with the lamp</i>.] For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs.
Cheveley, you have moments of admirable common sense. I
congratulate you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>Catches
sight of</i> <span class="smcap">lady chiltern’s</span>
<i>letter</i>, <i>the cover of which is just showing from under
the blotting-book</i>.] Please get me a glass of water.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Certainly.
[<i>Goes to the corner of the room and pours out a glass of
water</i>. <i>While his back is turned</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>steals</i> <span class="smcap">lady chiltern’s</span> <i>letter</i>.
<i>When</i> <span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>returns the
glass she refuses it with a gesture</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thank
you. Will you help me on with my cloak?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. With
pleasure. [<i>Puts her cloak on</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Thanks.
I am never going to try to harm Robert Chiltern again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Fortunately you
have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Well, if even
I had the chance, I wouldn’t. On the contrary, I am
going to render him a great service.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. I am charmed to
hear it. It is a reformation.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. Yes. I
can’t bear so upright a gentleman, so honourable an English
gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and so—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Well?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. I find that
somehow Gertrude Chiltern’s dying speech and confession has
strayed into my pocket.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. What do you
mean?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>With a
bitter note of triumph in her voice</i>.] I mean that I am
going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote to
you to-night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. Love-letter?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>.
[<i>Laughing</i>.] ‘I want you. I trust
you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">lord goring</span> <i>rushes to the
bureau and takes up the envelope</i>, <i>finds is empty</i>,
<i>and turns round</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">lord goring</span>. You wretched
woman, must you always be thieving? Give me back that
letter. I’ll take it from you by force. You
shall not leave my room till I have got it.</p>
<p>[<i>He rushes towards her</i>, <i>but</i> <span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span> <i>at once puts her hand on
the electric bell that is on the table</i>. <i>The bell sounds
with shrill reverberations</i>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p>
<p><span class="smcap">mrs. cheveley</span>. [<i>After a
pause</i>.] Lord Goring merely rang that you should show me
out. Good-night, Lord Goring!</p>
<p>[<i>Goes out followed by</i> <span class="smcap">phipps</span>. <i>Her face it illumined with
evil triumph</i>. <i>There is joy in her eyes</i>.
<i>Youth seems to have come back to her</i>. <i>Her last
glance is like a swift arrow</i>. <span class="smcap">lord
goring</span> <i>bites his lip</i>, <i>and lights his a
cigarette</i>.]</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Act
Drops</span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />