An Ideal Husband - Oscar Wilde (phonics story books .txt) 📗
- Author: Oscar Wilde
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his neighbours. In fact, to be a bit better than one’s neighbour was
considered excessively vulgar and middle-class. Nowadays, with our
modern mania for morality, every one has to pose as a paragon of
purity, incorruptibility, and all the other seven deadly virtues -
and what is the result? You all go over like ninepins - one after
the other. Not a year passes in England without somebody
disappearing. Scandals used to lend charm, or at least interest, to
a man - now they crush him. And yours is a very nasty scandal. You
couldn’t survive it. If it were known that as a young man, secretary
to a great and important minister, you sold a Cabinet secret for a
large sum of money, and that that was the origin of your wealth and
career, you would be hounded out of public life, you would disappear
completely. And after all, Sir Robert, why should you sacrifice your
entire future rather than deal diplomatically with your enemy? For
the moment I am your enemy. I admit it! And I am much stronger than
you are. The big battalions are on my side. You have a splendid
position, but it is your splendid position that makes you so
vulnerable. You can’t defend it! And I am in attack. Of course I
have not talked morality to you. You must admit in fairness that I
have spared you that. Years ago you did a clever, unscrupulous
thing; it turned out a great success. You owe to it your fortune and
position. And now you have got to pay for it. Sooner or later we
have all to pay for what we do. You have to pay now. Before I leave
you to-night, you have got to promise me to suppress your report, and
to speak in the House in favour of this scheme.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What you ask is impossible.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You must make it possible. You are going to make it
possible. Sir Robert, you know what your English newspapers are
like. Suppose that when I leave this house I drive down to some
newspaper office, and give them this scandal and the proofs of it!
Think of their loathsome joy, of the delight they would have in
dragging you down, of the mud and mire they would plunge you in.
Think of the hypocrite with his greasy smile penning his leading
article, and arranging the foulness of the public placard.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Stop! You want me to withdraw the report and
to make a short speech stating that I believe there are possibilities
in the scheme?
MRS. CHEVELEY. [Sitting down on the sofa.] Those are my terms.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [In a low voice.] I will give you any sum of
money you want.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Even you are not rich enough, Sir Robert, to buy back
your past. No man is.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will not do what you ask me. I will not.
MRS. CHEVELEY. You have to. If you don’t … [Rises from the
sofa.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Bewildered and unnerved.] Wait a moment!
What did you propose? You said that you would give me back my
letter, didn’t you?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. That is agreed. I will be in the Ladies’
Gallery to-morrow night at half-past eleven. If by that time - and
you will have had heaps of opportunity - you have made an
announcement to the House in the terms I wish, I shall hand you back
your letter with the prettiest thanks, and the best, or at any rate
the most suitable, compliment I can think of. I intend to play quite
fairly with you. One should always play fairly … when one has
the winning cards. The Baron taught me that … amongst other
things.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You must let me have time to consider your
proposal.
MRS. CHEVELEY. No; you must settle now!
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Give me a week - three days!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Impossible! I have got to telegraph to Vienna to-night.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My God! what brought you into my life?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Circumstances. [Moves towards the door.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Don’t go. I consent. The report shall be
withdrawn. I will arrange for a question to be put to me on the
subject.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. I knew we should come to an amicable
agreement. I understood your nature from the first. I analysed you,
though you did not adore me. And now you can get my carriage for me,
Sir Robert. I see the people coming up from supper, and Englishmen
always get romantic after a meal, and that bores me dreadfully.
[Exit SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.]
[Enter Guests, LADY CHILTERN, LADY MARKBY, LORD CAVERSHAM, LADY
BASILDON, MRS. MARCHMONT, VICOMTE DE NANJAC, MR. MONTFORD.]
LADY MARKBY. Well, dear Mrs. Cheveley, I hope you have enjoyed
yourself. Sir Robert is very entertaining, is he not?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Most entertaining! I have enjoyed my talk with him
immensely.
LADY MARKBY. He has had a very interesting and brilliant career.
And he has married a most admirable wife. Lady Chiltern is a woman
of the very highest principles, I am glad to say. I am a little too
old now, myself, to trouble about setting a good example, but I
always admire people who do. And Lady Chiltern has a very ennobling
effect on life, though her dinner-parties are rather dull sometimes.
But one can’t have everything, can one? And now I must go, dear.
Shall I call for you to-morrow?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks.
LADY MARKBY. We might drive in the Park at five. Everything looks
so fresh in the Park now!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Except the people!
LADY MARKBY. Perhaps the people are a little jaded. I have often
observed that the Season as it goes on produces a kind of softening
of the brain. However, I think anything is better than high
intellectual pressure. That is the most unbecoming thing there is.
It makes the noses of the young girls so particularly large. And
there is nothing so difficult to marry as a large nose; men don’t
like them. Good-night, dear! [To LADY CHILTERN.] Good-night,
Gertrude! [Goes out on LORD CAVERSHAM’S arm.]
MRS. CHEVELEY. What a charming house you have, Lady Chiltern! I
have spent a delightful evening. It has been so interesting getting
to know your husband.
LADY CHILTERN. Why did you wish to meet my husband, Mrs. Cheveley?
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I will tell you. I wanted to interest him in
this Argentine Canal scheme, of which I dare say you have heard. And
I found him most susceptible, - susceptible to reason, I mean. A
rare thing in a man. I converted him in ten minutes. He is going to
make a speech in the House to-morrow night in favour of the idea. We
must go to the Ladies’ Gallery and hear him! It will be a great
occasion!
LADY CHILTERN. There must be some mistake. That scheme could never
have my husband’s support.
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, I assure you it’s all settled. I don’t regret my
tedious journey from Vienna now. It has been a great success. But,
of course, for the next twenty-four hours the whole thing is a dead
secret.
LADY CHILTERN. [Gently.] A secret? Between whom?
MRS. CHEVELEY. [With a flash of amusement in her eyes.] Between
your husband and myself.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Entering.] Your carriage is here, Mm
Cheveley!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks! Good evening, Lady Chiltern! Good-night,
Lord Goring! I am at Claridge’s. Don’t you think you might leave a
card?
LORD GORING. If you wish it, Mrs. Cheveley!
MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, don’t be so solemn about it, or I shall be
obliged to leave a card on you. In England I suppose that would
hardly be considered EN REGLE. Abroad, we are more civilised. Will
you see me down, Sir Robert? Now that we have both the same
interests at heart we shall be great friends, I hope!
[Sails out on SIR ROBERT CHILTERN’S arm. LADY CHILTERN goes to the
top of the staircase and looks down at them as they descend. Her
expression is troubled. After a little time she is joined by some of
the guests, and passes with them into another reception-room.]
MABEL CHILTERN. What a horrid woman!
LORD GORING. You should go to bed, Miss Mabel.
MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring!
LORD GORING. My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don’t
see why I shouldn’t give you the same advice. I always pass on good
advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use
to oneself.
MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, you are always ordering me out of the
room. I think it most courageous of you. Especially as I am not
going to bed for hours. [Goes over to the sofa.] You can come and
sit down if you like, and talk about anything in the world, except
the Royal Academy, Mrs. Cheveley, or novels in Scotch dialect. They
are not improving subjects. [Catches sight of something that is
lying on the sofa half hidden by the cushion.] What is this? Some
one has dropped a diamond brooch! Quite beautiful, isn’t it? [Shows
it to him.] I wish it was mine, but Gertrude won’t let me wear
anything but pearls, and I am thoroughly sick of pearls. They make
one look so plain, so good and so intellectual. I wonder whom the
brooch belongs to.
LORD GORING. I wonder who dropped it.
MABEL CHILTERN. It is a beautiful brooch.
LORD GORING. It is a handsome bracelet.
MABEL CHILTERN. It isn’t a bracelet. It’s a brooch.
LORD GORING. It can be used as a bracelet. [Takes it from her, and,
pulling out a green letter-case, puts the ornament carefully in it,
and replaces the whole thing in his breast-pocket with the most
perfect sang froid.]
MABEL CHILTERN. What are you doing?
LORD GORING. Miss Mabel, I am going to make a rather strange request
to you.
MABEL CHILTERN. [Eagerly.] Oh, pray do! I have been waiting for it
all the evening.
LORD GORING. [Is a little taken aback, but recovers himself.] Don’t
mention to anybody that I have taken charge of this brooch. Should
any one write and claim it, let me know at once.
MABEL CHILTERN. That is a strange request.
LORD GORING. Well, you see I gave this brooch to somebody once,
years ago.
MABEL CHILTERN. You did?
LORD GORING. Yes.
[LADY CHILTERN enters alone. The other guests have gone.]
MABEL CHILTERN. Then I shall certainly bid you good-night. Good-night, Gertrude! [Exit.]
LADY CHILTERN. Good-night, dear! [To LORD GORING.] You saw whom
Lady Markby brought here to-night?
LORD GORING. Yes. It was an unpleasant surprise. What did she come
here for?
LADY CHILTERN. Apparently to try and lure Robert to uphold some
fraudulent scheme in which she is interested. The Argentine Canal,
in fact.
LORD GORING. She has mistaken her man, hasn’t she?
LADY CHILTERN. She is incapable of understanding an upright nature
like my husband’s!
LORD GORING. Yes. I should fancy she came to grief if she tried to
get Robert into her toils. It is extraordinary what astounding
mistakes clever women make.
LADY CHILTERN. I don’t call women of that kind clever. I call them
stupid!
LORD GORING. Same thing often. Good-night, Lady Chiltern!
LADY CHILTERN. Good-night!
[Enter SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My dear Arthur, you are not going? Do stop a
little!
LORD GORING. Afraid I can’t, thanks. I have
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