MRS. CHEVELEY. Do you think it is quite charming of you to be so rude to a woman in your own house?
LORD GORING. In the case of very fascinating women, s.e.x is a challenge, not a defence.
MRS. CHEVELEY. 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 s.e.xes.
LORD GORING. Women are never disarmed by anything, as far as I know them.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] 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.
LORD GORING. 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.
MRS. CHEVELEY. As if anything could demoralise Robert Chiltern! You seem to forget that I know his real character.
LORD GORING. 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.
MRS. CHEVELEY. How you men stand up for each other!
LORD GORING. How you women war against each other!
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Bitterly_.] I only war against one woman, against Gertrude Chiltern. I hate her. I hate her now more than ever.
LORD GORING. Because you have brought a real tragedy into her life, I suppose.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a sneer_.] 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.
LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern knows nothing of the kind of life to which you are alluding.
MRS. CHEVELEY. 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.
Voila tout.
LORD GORING. You mustn"t do that. It would be vile, horrible, infamous.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Shrugging her shoulders_.] Oh! don"t use big words.
They mean so little. It is a commercial transaction. That is all.
There is no good mixing up sentimentality in it. I offered to 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?
LORD GORING. With you? No. Your transaction with Robert Chiltern may pa.s.s 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 n.o.ble 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.
MRS. CHEVELEY. 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.
LORD GORING. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. How do you know?
LORD GORING. Because it is found. In point of fact, I found it myself, and stupidly forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I was leaving. [_Goes over to the writing-table and pulls out the drawers_.]
It is in this drawer. No, that one. This is the brooch, isn"t it?
[_Holds up the brooch_.]
MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I am so glad to get it back. It was . . a present.
LORD GORING. Won"t you wear it?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Certainly, if you pin it in. [LORD GORING _suddenly clasps it on her arm_.] Why do you put it on as a bracelet? I never knew it could he worn as a bracelet.
LORD GORING. Really?
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Holding out her handsome arm_.] No; but it looks very well on me as a bracelet, doesn"t it?
LORD GORING. Yes; much better than when I saw it last.
MRS. CHEVELEY. When did you see it last?
LORD GORING. [_Calmly_.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, from whom you stole it.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Starting_.] What do you mean?
LORD GORING. 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.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Tossing her head_.] It is not true.
LORD GORING. You know it is true. Why, thief is written across your face at this moment.
MRS. CHEVELEY. 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.
[MRS. CHEVELEY _tries to get the bracelet off her arm_, _but fails_.
LORD GORING _looks on amused_. _Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to no purpose_. _A curse breaks from her_.]
LORD GORING. 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.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You brute! You coward! [_She tries again to unclasp the bracelet_, _but fails_.]
LORD GORING. Oh! don"t use big words. They mean so little.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage_, _with inarticulate sounds_. _Then stops_, _and looks at_ LORD GORING.]
What are you going to do?
LORD GORING. I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirable servant. Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes I will tell him to fetch the police.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Trembling_.] The police? What for?
LORD GORING. To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is what the police are for.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Is now in an agony of physical terror_. _Her face is distorted_. _Her mouth awry_. _A mask has fallen from her_. _She it_, _for the moment_, _dreadful to look at_.] Don"t do that. I will do anything you want. Anything in the world you want.
LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern"s letter.