Lady Windermere's Fan
me—I was going back—but to stay himself at home, and to send you as his
messenger—oh! it was infamous—infamous.
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_C._] Lady Windermere, you wrong me horribly—you wrong
your husband horribly. He doesn’t know you are here—he thinks you are
safe in your own house. He thinks you are asleep in your own room. He
never read the mad letter you wrote to him!
LADY WINDERMERE. [_R._] Never read it!
MRS. ERLYNNE. No—he knows nothing about it.
LADY WINDERMERE. How simple you think me! [_Going to her_.] You are
lying to me!
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Restraining herself_.] I am not. I am telling you the
truth.
LADY WINDERMERE. If my husband didn’t read my letter, how is it that you
are here? Who told you I had left the house you were shameless enough to
enter? Who told you where I had gone to? My husband told you, and sent
you to decoy me back. [_Crosses L._]
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_R.C._] Your husband has never seen the letter. I—saw
it, I opened it. I—read it.
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Turning to her_.] You opened a letter of mine to my
husband? You wouldn’t dare!
MRS. ERLYNNE. Dare! Oh! to save you from the abyss into which you are
falling, there is nothing in the world I would not dare, nothing in the
whole world. Here is the letter. Your husband has never read it. He
never shall read it. [_Going to fireplace_.] It should never have been
written. [_Tears it and throws it into the fire_.]
LADY WINDERMERE. [_With infinite contempt in her voice and look_.] How
do I know that that was my letter after all? You seem to think the
commonest device can take me in!
MRS. ERLYNNE. Oh! why do you disbelieve everything I tell you? What
object do you think I have in coming here, except to save you from utter
ruin, to save you from the consequence of a hideous mistake? That letter
that is burnt now _was_ your letter. I swear it to you!
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Slowly_.] You took good care to burn it before I had
examined it. I cannot trust you. You, whose whole life is a lie, could
you speak the truth about anything? [_Sits down_.]
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Hurriedly_.] Think as you like about me—say what you
choose against me, but go back, go back to the husband you love.
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Sullenly_.] I do _not_ love him!
MRS. ERLYNNE. You do, and you know that he loves you.
LADY WINDERMERE. He does not understand what love is. He understands it
as little as you do—but I see what you want. It would be a great
advantage for you to get me back. Dear Heaven! what a life I would have
then! Living at the mercy of a woman who has neither mercy nor pity in
her, a woman whom it is an infamy to meet, a degradation to know, a vile
woman, a woman who comes between husband and wife!
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_With a gesture of despair_.] Lady Windermere, Lady
Windermere, don’t say such terrible things. You don’t know how terrible
they are, how terrible and how unjust. Listen, you must listen! Only go
back to your husband, and I promise you never to communicate with him
again on any pretext—never to see him—never to have anything to do with
his life or yours. The money that he gave me, he gave me not through
love, but through hatred, not in worship, but in contempt. The hold I
have over him—
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Rising_.] Ah! you admit you have a hold!
MRS. ERLYNNE. Yes, and I will tell you what it is. It is his love for
you, Lady Windermere.
LADY WINDERMERE. You expect me to believe that?
MRS. ERLYNNE. You must believe it! It is true. It is his love for you
that has made him submit to—oh! call it what you like, tyranny, threats,
anything you choose. But it is his love for you. His desire to spare
you—shame, yes, shame and disgrace.
LADY WINDERMERE. What do you mean? You are insolent! What have I to do
with you?
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Humbly_.] Nothing. I know it—but I tell you that your
husband loves you—that you may never meet with such love again in your
whole life—that such love you will never meet—and that if you throw it
away, the day may come when you will starve for love and it will not be
given to you, beg for love and it will be denied you—Oh! Arthur loves
you!
LADY WINDERMERE. Arthur? And you tell me there is nothing between you?
MRS. ERLYNNE. Lady Windermere, before Heaven your husband is guiltless
of all offence towards you! And I—I tell you that had it ever occurred
to me that such a monstrous suspicion would have entered your mind, I
would have died rather than have crossed your life or his—oh! died,
gladly died! [_Moves away to sofa R._]
LADY WINDERMERE. You talk as if you had a heart. Women like you have no
hearts. Heart is not in you. You are bought and sold. [_Sits L.C._]
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Starts_, _with a gesture of pain_. _Then restrains
herself_, _and comes over to where_ LADY WINDERMERE _is sitting_. _As
she speaks_, _she stretches out her hands towards her_, _but does not
dare to touch her_.] Believe what you choose about me. I am not worth a
moment’s sorrow. But don’t spoil your beautiful young life on my
account! You don’t know what may be in store for you, unless you leave
this house at once. You don’t know what it is to fall into the pit, to
be despised, mocked, abandoned, sneered at—to be an outcast! to find the
door shut against one, to have to creep in by hideous byways, afraid
every moment lest the mask should be stripped from one’s face, and all
the while to hear the laughter, the horrible laughter of the world, a
thing more tragic than all the tears the world has ever shed. You don’t
know what it is. One pays for one’s sin, and then one pays again, and
all one’s life one pays. You must never know that.—As for me, if
suffering be an expiation, then at this moment I have expiated all my
faults, whatever they have been; for to-night you have made a heart in
one who had it not, made it and broken it.—But let that pass. I may have
wrecked my own life, but I will not let you wreck yours. You—why, you
are a mere girl, you would be lost. You haven’t got the kind of brains
that enables a woman to get back. You have neither the wit nor the
courage. You couldn’t stand dishonour! No! Go back, Lady Windermere,
to the husband who loves you, whom you love. You have a child, Lady
Windermere. Go back to that child who even now, in pain or in joy, may
be calling to you. [LADY WINDERMERE _rises_.] God gave you that child.
He will require from you that you make his life fine, that you watch over
him. What answer will you make to God if his life is ruined through you?
Back to your house, Lady Windermere—your husband loves you! He has never
swerved for a moment from the love he bears you. But even if he had a
thousand loves, you must stay with your child. If he was harsh to you,
you must stay with your child. If he ill-treated you, you must stay with
your child. If he abandoned you, your place is with your child.
[LADY WINDERMERE _bursts into tears and buries her face in her hands_.]
[_Rushing to her_.] Lady Windermere!
LADY WINDERMERE. [_Holding out her hands to her_, _helplessly_, _as a
child might do_.] Take me home. Take me home.
MRS. ERLYNNE. [_Is about to embrace her_. _Then restrains herself_.
_There is a look of wonderful joy in her face_.] Come! Where is your
cloak? [_Getting it from sofa_.] Here. Put it on. Come at once!
[_They go to the door_.]
LADY WINDERMERE. Stop! Don’t you hear voices?
MRS. ERLYNNE. No, no! There was no one!
LADY WINDERMERE. Yes, there is! Listen! Oh! that is my husband’s
voice! He is coming in! Save me! Oh, it’s some plot! You have sent
for him.
[_Voices outside_.]
MRS. ERLYNNE. Silence! I’m here to save you, if I can. But I fear it
is too late! There! [_Points to the curtain across the window_.] The
first chance you have, slip out, if you ever get a chance!
LADY WINDERMERE. But you?
MRS. ERLYNNE. Oh! never mind me. I’ll face them.
[LADY WINDERMERE _hides herself behind the curtain_.]
LORD AUGUSTUS. [_Outside_.] Nonsense, dear Windermere, you must not
leave me!
MRS. ERLYNNE. Lord Augustus! Then it is I who am lost! [_Hesitates for
a moment_, then _looks round and sees door R._, _and exits through it_.]
[_Enter_ LORD DARLINGTON, MR. DUMBY, LORD WINDERMERE, LORD AUGUSTUS
LORTON, _and_ MR. CECIL GRAHAM.
DUMBY. What a nuisance their turning us out of the club at this hour!
It’s only two o’clock. [_Sinks into a chair_.] The lively part of the
evening is only just beginning. [_Yawns and closes his eyes_.]
LORD WINDERMERE. It is very good of you, Lord Darlington, allowing
Augustus to force our company on you, but I’m afraid I can’t stay long.
LORD DARLINGTON. Really! I am so sorry! You’ll take a cigar, won’t
you?
LORD WINDERMERE. Thanks! [_Sits down_.]
LORD AUGUSTUS. [_To_ LORD WINDERMERE.] My dear boy, you must not dream
of going. I have a great deal to talk to you about, of demmed
importance, too. [_Sits down with him at L. table_.]
CECIL GRAHAM. Oh! We all know what that is! Tuppy can’t talk about
anything but Mrs. Erlynne.
LORD WINDERMERE. Well, that is no business of yours, is it, Cecil?
CECIL GRAHAM. None! That is why it interests me. My own business
always bores me to death. I prefer other people’s.
LORD DARLINGTON. Have something to drink, you fellows. Cecil, you’ll
have a whisky and soda?
CECIL GRAHAM. Thanks. [_Goes to table with_ LORD DARLINGTON.] Mrs.
Erlynne looked very handsome to-night, didn’t she?
LORD DARLINGTON. I am not one of her admirers.
CECIL GRAHAM. I usen’t to be, but I am now. Why! she actually made me
introduce her to poor dear Aunt Caroline. I believe she is going to
lunch there.
LORD DARLINGTON. [_In Purple_.] No?
CECIL GRAHAM. She is, really.
LORD DARLINGTON. Excuse me, you fellows. I’m going away to-morrow. And
I have to write a few letters. [_Goes to writing table and sits down_.]
DUMBY. Clever woman, Mrs. Erlynne.
CECIL GRAHAM. Hallo, Dumby! I thought you were asleep.
DUMBY. I am, I usually am!
LORD AUGUSTUS. A very clever woman. Knows perfectly well what a demmed
fool I am—knows it as well as I do myself.
[CECIL GRAHAM _comes towards him laughing_.]
Ah, you may laugh, my boy, but it is a great thing to come across a woman
who thoroughly understands one.
DUMBY. It is an awfully dangerous thing. They always end by marrying
one.
CECIL GRAHAM. But I thought, Tuppy, you were never going to see her
again! Yes! you told me so yesterday evening at the club. You said
you’d heard—
[_Whispering to him_.]
LORD AUGUSTUS. Oh, she’s explained that.
CECIL GRAHAM. And the Wiesbaden affair?
LORD AUGUSTUS. She’s explained that too.
DUMBY. And her income, Tuppy? Has she explained that?
LORD AUGUSTUS. [_In a very serious voice_.] She’s going to explain that
to-morrow.
[CECIL GRAHAM _goes back to C. table_.]
DUMBY. Awfully commercial, women nowadays. Our grandmothers threw their
caps over the mills, of course, but, by Jove, their granddaughters only
throw their caps over mills that can raise the wind for them.
LORD AUGUSTUS. You want to make her out a wicked woman. She is not!
CECIL GRAHAM. Oh! Wicked women bother one. Good women bore one. That
is the only difference between them.
LORD AUGUSTUS. [_Puffing a cigar_.] Mrs. Erlynne has a future before
her.
DUMBY. Mrs. Erlynne has a past before her.
LORD AUGUSTUS. I prefer women with a past. They’re always so demmed
amusing to talk to.
CECIL GRAHAM. Well, you’ll have lots of topics of conversation with
_her_, Tuppy. [_Rising and going to him_.]
LORD AUGUSTUS. You’re getting annoying, dear-boy; you’re getting demmed
annoying.