An ideal husband
understood, and so much in women that their husbands never appreciate in
them!
MRS. MARCHMONT. [_With a sigh_.] Our husbands never appreciate anything
in 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 who
are known to have the most admirable husbands in London.
MRS. MARCHMONT. That is exactly what we can’t stand. My Reginald is
quite 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 widely
known!
LADY BASILDON. Basildon is quite as bad; he is as domestic as if he was
a 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 were
punished.
MRS. MARCHMONT. [_Drawing herself up_.] Oh, dear no! They are as happy
as possible! And as for trusting us, it is tragic how much they trust
us.
LADY BASILDON. Perfectly tragic!
LORD GORING. Or comic, Lady Basildon?
LADY BASILDON. Certainly not comic, Lord Goring. How unkind of you to
suggest such a thing!
MRS. MARCHMONT. I am afraid Lord Goring is in the camp of the enemy, as
usual. 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 our
presence. 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 went
to the Opera on Monday night, and told Tommy Rufford at supper that, as
far as she could see, London Society was entirely made up of dowdies and
dandies.
LORD GORING. She is quite right, too. The men are all dowdies and the
women are all dandies, aren’t they?
MRS. MARCHMONT. [_After a pause_.] Oh! do you really think that is what
Mrs. Cheveley meant?
LORD GORING. Of course. And a very sensible remark for Mrs. Cheveley to
make, too.
[_Enter_ MABEL CHILTERN. _She joins the group_.]
MABEL CHILTERN. Why are you talking about Mrs. Cheveley? Everybody is
talking about Mrs. Cheveley! Lord Goring says—what did you say, Lord
Goring, about Mrs. Cheveley? Oh! I remember, that she was a genius in
the 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 at
geniuses, 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 so
glad to hear you say that. Marchmont and I have been married for seven
years, and he has never once told me that I was morbid. Men are so
painfully 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 great
desire 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 me
the whole evening!
LORD GORING. How could I? You went away with the child-diplomatist.
MABEL CHILTERN. You might have followed us. Pursuit would have been
only 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! [_They
go 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 some
supper.
LADY BASILDON. I am positively dying for supper, Margaret!
MRS. MARCHMONT. Men are so horribly selfish, they never think of these
things.
LADY BASILDON. Men are grossly material, grossly material!
[_The_ VICOMTE DE NANJAC _enters from the music-room with some other
guests_. _After having carefully examined all the people present_, _he
approaches_ 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 with
pleasure.
VICOMTE DE NANJAC. I am so fond of eating! I am very English in all my
tastes.
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 touch
supper. [_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 these
painful scenes of jealousy in public!
[_They go downstairs with the other guests_, _passing_ SIR ROBERT
CHILTERN _and_ MRS. CHEVELEY, _who now enter_.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And are you going to any of our country houses
before you leave England, Mrs. Cheveley?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I can’t stand your English house-parties. In
England people actually try to be brilliant at breakfast. That is so
dreadful of them! Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast. And then
the family skeleton is always reading family prayers. My stay in England
really 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 great
political and financial scheme, about this Argentine Canal Company, in
fact.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What a tedious, practical subject for you to talk
about, Mrs. Cheveley!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I like tedious, practical subjects. What I don’t
like are tedious, practical people. There is a wide difference.
Besides, you are interested, I know, in International Canal schemes. You
were Lord Radley’s secretary, weren’t you, when the Government bought the
Suez Canal shares?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes. But the Suez Canal was a very great and
splendid undertaking. It gave us our direct route to India. It had
imperial value. It was necessary that we should have control. This
Argentine scheme is a commonplace Stock Exchange swindle.
MRS. CHEVELEY. A speculation, Sir Robert! A brilliant, daring
speculation.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Believe me, Mrs. Cheveley, it is a swindle. Let us
call things by their proper names. It makes matters simpler. We have
all the information about it at the Foreign Office. In fact, I sent out
a special Commission to inquire into the matter privately, and they
report that the works are hardly begun, and as for the money already
subscribed, no one seems to know what has become of it. The whole thing
is a second Panama, and with not a quarter of the chance of success that
miserable affair ever had. I hope you have not invested in it. I am
sure 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 foolish
thing?
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 the
time 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 him
justice.
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 for
silver 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 of
the Canal depends, of course, on the attitude of England, and I am going
to 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 you
to withdraw the report that you had intended to lay before the House, on
the ground that you have reasons to believe that the Commissioners have
been prejudiced or misinformed, or something. Then I want you to say a
few words to the effect that the Government is going to reconsider the
question, and that you have reason to believe that the Canal, if
completed, will be of great international value. You know the sort of
things ministers say in cases of this kind. A few ordinary platitudes
will do. In modern life nothing produces such an effect as a good
platitude. It makes the whole world kin. Will you do that for me?
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley, you cannot be serious in making me
such a proposition!
MRS. CHEVELEY. I am quite serious.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Coldly_.] Pray allow me to believe that you are
not.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Speaking with great deliberation and emphasis_.] Ah!
but I am. And if you do what I ask you, I . . . will pay you very
handsomely!
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_.] How
very disappointing! And I have come all the way from Vienna in order
that 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 so
dreadfully expensive. I know I am. I hope you will be more reasonable
in your terms.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rises indignantly_.] If you will allow me, I
will 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 to
an English gentleman.
MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Detains him by touching his arm with her fan_, _and
keeping it there while she is talking_.] I realise that I am talking to
a man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling to a Stock
Exchange 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 real
origin 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 Baron
Arnheim, when you were Lord Radley’s secretary, telling the Baron to buy
Suez Canal shares—a letter written three days before the Government
announced its own purchase.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Hoarsely_.] It is not true.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You thought that letter had been destroyed. How foolish
of you! It is in my possession.