Delphi Complete Works of Oscar Wilde (Illustrated) (59 page)

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.

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

LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter.

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

LORD GORING. You know you are lying. Give it to me at once.
[MRS. CHEVELEY pulls the letter out, and hands it to him. She is horribly pale.]
This is it?

MRS. CHEVELEY.
[In a hoarse voice.]
Yes.

LORD GORING.
[Takes the letter, examines it, sighs, and burns it with the lamp.]
For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. Cheveley, you have moments of admirable common sense. I congratulate you.

MRS. CHEVELEY.
[Catches sight of LADY CHILTERN’S letter, the cover of which is just showing from under the blotting-book.]
Please get me a glass of water.

LORD GORING. Certainly. [
Goes to the corner of the room and pours out a glass of water
.
While his back is turned
MRS. CHEVELEY
steals
LADY CHILTERN’S
letter
.
When
LORD GORING
returns the glass she refuses it with a gesture
.]

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

LORD GORING. With pleasure.
[Puts her cloak on.]

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

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

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

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

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

LORD GORING. Well?

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

LORD GORING. What do you mean?

MRS. CHEVELEY.
[With a bitter note of triumph in her voice.]
I mean that I am going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote to you to-night.

LORD GORING. Love-letter?

MRS. CHEVELEY.
[Laughing.]
‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’

[LORD GORING rushes to the bureau and takes up the envelope, finds is empty, and turns round.]

LORD GORING. 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.

[He rushes towards her, but MRS. CHEVELEY at once puts her hand on the electric bell that is on the table. The bell sounds with shrill reverberations, and PHIPPS enters.]

MRS. CHEVELEY.
[After a pause.]
Lord Goring merely rang that you should show me out. Good-night, Lord Goring!

[
Goes out followed by
PHIPPS.
Her face it illumined with evil triumph
.
There is joy in her eyes
.
Youth seems to have come back to her
.
Her last glance is like a swift arrow
. LORD GORING
bites his lip
,
and lights his a cigarette
.]

ACT DROPS

FOURTH AC
T

Same as Act II
.

[LORD GORING is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets. He is looking rather bored.]

LORD GORING.
[Pulls out his watch, inspects it, and rings the bell.]
It is a great nuisance. I can’t find any one in this house to talk to. And I am full of interesting information. I feel like the latest edition of something or other.

[Enter servant.]

JAMES. Sir Robert is still at the Foreign Office, my lord.

LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern not down yet?

JAMES. Her ladyship has not yet left her room. Miss Chiltern has just come in from riding.

LORD GORING.
[To himself.]
Ah! that is something.

JAMES. Lord Caversham has been waiting some time in the library for Sir Robert. I told him your lordship was here.

LORD GORING. Thank you! Would you kindly tell him I’ve gone?

JAMES.
[Bowing.]
I shall do so, my lord.

[Exit servant.]

LORD GORING. Really, I don’t want to meet my father three days running. It is a great deal too much excitement for any son. I hope to goodness he won’t come up. Fathers should be neither seen nor heard. That is the only proper basis for family life. Mothers are different. Mothers are darlings.
[Throws himself down into a chair, picks up a paper and begins to read it.]

[Enter LORD CAVERSHAM.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, what are you doing here? Wasting your time as usual, I suppose?

LORD GORING.
[Throws down paper and rises.]
My dear father, when one pays a visit it is for the purpose of wasting other people’s time, not one’s own.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Have you been thinking over what I spoke to you about last night?

LORD GORING. I have been thinking about nothing else.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Engaged to be married yet?

LORD GORING.
[Genially.]
Not yet: but I hope to be before lunch-time.

LORD CAVERSHAM.
[Caustically.]
You can have till dinner-time if it would be of any convenience to you.

LORD GORING. Thanks awfully, but I think I’d sooner be engaged before lunch.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Humph! Never know when you are serious or not.

LORD GORING. Neither do I, father.

[A pause.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. I suppose you have read
The Times
this morning?

LORD GORING.
[Airily.]
The Times? Certainly not. I only read
The Morning Post
. All that one should know about modern life is where the Duchesses are; anything else is quite demoralising.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Do you mean to say you have not read
The Times
leading article on Robert Chiltern’s career?

LORD GORING. Good heavens! No. What does it say?

LORD CAVERSHAM. What should it say, sir? Everything complimentary, of course. Chiltern’s speech last night on this Argentine Canal scheme was one of the finest pieces of oratory ever delivered in the House since Canning.

LORD GORING. Ah! Never heard of Canning. Never wanted to. And did . . . did Chiltern uphold the scheme?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Uphold it, sir? How little you know him! Why, he denounced it roundly, and the whole system of modern political finance. This speech is the turning-point in his career, as
The Times
points out. You should read this article, sir.
[Opens The Times.]
‘Sir Robert Chiltern . . . most rising of our young statesmen . . . Brilliant Orator . . . Unblemished career . . . Well-known integrity of character . . . Represents what is best in English public life . . . Noble contrast to the lax morality so common among foreign politicians.’ They will never say that of you, sir.

LORD GORING. I sincerely hope not, father. However, I am delighted at what you tell me about Robert, thoroughly delighted. It shows he has got pluck.

LORD CAVERSHAM. He has got more than pluck, sir, he has got genius.

LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer pluck. It is not so common, nowadays, as genius is.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would go into Parliament.

LORD GORING. My dear father, only people who look dull ever get into the House of Commons, and only people who are dull ever succeed there.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don’t you try to do something useful in life?

LORD GORING. I am far too young.

LORD CAVERSHAM.
[Testily.]
I hate this affectation of youth, sir. It is a great deal too prevalent nowadays.

LORD GORING. Youth isn’t an affectation. Youth is an art.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don’t you propose to that pretty Miss Chiltern?

LORD GORING. I am of a very nervous disposition, especially in the morning.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I don’t suppose there is the smallest chance of her accepting you.

LORD GORING. I don’t know how the betting stands to-day.

LORD CAVERSHAM. If she did accept you she would be the prettiest fool in England.

LORD GORING. That is just what I should like to marry. A thoroughly sensible wife would reduce me to a condition of absolute idiocy in less than six months.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You don’t deserve her, sir.

LORD GORING. My dear father, if we men married the women we deserved, we should have a very bad time of it.

[Enter MABEL CHILTERN.]

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! . . . How do you do, Lord Caversham? I hope Lady Caversham is quite well?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Lady Caversham is as usual, as usual.

LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN.
[Taking no notice at all of LORD GORING, and addressing herself exclusively to LORD CAVERSHAM.]
And Lady Caversham’s bonnets . . . are they at all better?

LORD CAVERSHAM. They have had a serious relapse, I am sorry to say.

LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN.
[To LORD CAVERSHAM.]
I hope an operation will not be necessary.

LORD CAVERSHAM.
[Smiling at her pertness.]
If it is, we shall have to give Lady Caversham a narcotic. Otherwise she would never consent to have a feather touched.

LORD GORING.
[With increased emphasis.]
Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN.
[Turning round with feigned surprise.]
Oh, are you here? Of course you understand that after your breaking your appointment I am never going to speak to you again.

LORD GORING. Oh, please don’t say such a thing. You are the one person in London I really like to have to listen to me.

MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, I never believe a single word that either you or I say to each other.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You are quite right, my dear, quite right . . . as far as he is concerned, I mean.

MABEL CHILTERN. Do you think you could possibly make your son behave a little better occasionally? Just as a change.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I regret to say, Miss Chiltern, that I have no influence at all over my son. I wish I had. If I had, I know what I would make him do.

MABEL CHILTERN. I am afraid that he has one of those terribly weak natures that are not susceptible to influence.

LORD CAVERSHAM. He is very heartless, very heartless.

LORD GORING. It seems to me that I am a little in the way here.

MABEL CHILTERN. It is very good for you to be in the way, and to know what people say of you behind your back.

LORD GORING. I don’t at all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It makes me far too conceited.

LORD CAVERSHAM. After that, my dear, I really must bid you good morning.

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I hope you are not going to leave me all alone with Lord Goring? Especially at such an early hour in the day.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I am afraid I can’t take him with me to Downing Street. It is not the Prime Minster’s day for seeing the unemployed.

[Shakes hands with MABEL CHILTERN, takes up his hat and stick, and goes out, with a parting glare of indignation at LORD GORING.]

MABEL CHILTERN.
[Takes up roses and begins to arrange them in a bowl on the table.]
People who don’t keep their appointments in the Park are horrid.

LORD GORING. Detestable.

MABEL CHILTERN. I am glad you admit it. But I wish you wouldn’t look so pleased about it.

LORD GORING. I can’t help it. I always look pleased when I am with you.

MABEL CHILTERN.
[Sadly.]
Then I suppose it is my duty to remain with you?

LORD GORING. Of course it is.

MABEL CHILTERN. Well, my duty is a thing I never do, on principle. It always depresses me. So I am afraid I must leave you.

LORD GORING. Please don’t, Miss Mabel. I have something very particular to say to you.

MABEL CHILTERN.
[Rapturously.]
Oh! is it a proposal?

LORD GORING.
[Somewhat taken aback.]
Well, yes, it is — I am bound to say it is.

MABEL CHILTERN.
[With a sigh of pleasure.]
I am so glad. That makes the second to-day.

LORD GORING.
[Indignantly.]
The second to-day? What conceited ass has been impertinent enough to dare to propose to you before I had proposed to you?

MABEL CHILTERN. Tommy Trafford, of course. It is one of Tommy’s days for proposing. He always proposes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, during the Season.

LORD GORING. You didn’t accept him, I hope?

MABEL CHILTERN. I make it a rule never to accept Tommy. That is why he goes on proposing. Of course, as you didn’t turn up this morning, I very nearly said yes. It would have been an excellent lesson both for him and for you if I had. It would have taught you both better manners.

LORD GORING. Oh! bother Tommy Trafford. Tommy is a silly little ass. I love you.

MABEL CHILTERN. I know. And I think you might have mentioned it before. I am sure I have given you heaps of opportunities.

LORD GORING. Mabel, do be serious. Please be serious.

MABEL CHILTERN. Ah! that is the sort of thing a man always says to a girl before he has been married to her. He never says it afterwards.

LORD GORING.
[Taking hold of her hand.]
Mabel, I have told you that I love you. Can’t you love me a little in return?

MABEL CHILTERN. You silly Arthur! If you knew anything about . . . anything, which you don’t, you would know that I adore you. Every one in London knows it except you. It is a public scandal the way I adore you. I have been going about for the last six months telling the whole of society that I adore you. I wonder you consent to have anything to say to me. I have no character left at all. At least, I feel so happy that I am quite sure I have no character left at all.

LORD GORING.
[Catches her in his arms and kisses her. Then there is a pause of bliss.]
Dear! Do you know I was awfully afraid of being refused!

MABEL CHILTERN.
[Looking up at him.]
But you never have been refused yet by anybody, have you, Arthur? I can’t imagine any one refusing you.

LORD GORING.
[After kissing her again.]
Of course I’m not nearly good enough for you, Mabel.

MABEL CHILTERN.
[Nestling close to him.]
I am so glad, darling. I was afraid you were.