The Complete Plays, Page 6

  LADY WINDERMERE. It is very kind of you, Duchess, to come and tell me all this. But I can’t believe that my husband is untrue to me.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Pretty child! I was like that once. Now I know that all men are monsters, (LADY WINDERMERE rings bell.) The only thing to do is to feed the wretches well. A good cook does wonders, and that I know you have. My dear Margaret, you are not going to cry?

  LADY WINDERMERE. You needn’t be afraid, Duchess, I never cry.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. That’s quite right, dear. Crying is the refuge of plain women but the ruin of pretty ones. Agatha, darling.

  LADY AGATHA (entering L.). Yes, mamma. (Stands back of table L.C.)

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Come and bid good-bye to Lady Windermere, and thank her for your charming visit. (Coming down again.) And by the way, I must thank you for sending a card to Mr. Hopper—he’s that rich young Australian people are taking such notice of just at present. His father made a great fortune by selling some kind of food in circular tins—most palatable, I believe—I fancy it is the thing the servants always refuse to eat. But the son is quite interesting. I think he’s attracted by dear Agatha’s clever talk. Of course, we should be very sorry to lose her, but I think that a mother who doesn’t part with a daughter every season has no real affection. We’re coming to-night, dear. (PARKER opens C. doors.) And remember my advice, take the poor fellow out of town at once, it is the only thing to do. Good-bye, once more; come, Agatha.

  Exeunt DUCHESS and LADY AGATHA C.

  LADY WINDERMERE. How horrible! I understand now what Lord Darlington meant by the imaginary instance of the couple not two years married. Oh! it can’t be true—she spoke of enormous sums of money paid to this woman. I know where Arthur keeps his bank book—in one of the drawers of that desk. I might find out by that. I will find out. (Opens drawer.) No, it is some hideous mistake. (Rises and goes C.) Some silly scandal! He loves me! He loves me! But why should I not look? I am his wife, I have a right to look! (Returns to bureau, takes out book and examines it page by page, smiles and gives a sigh of relief.) I knew it! there is not a word of truth in this stupid story. (Puts book back in drawer. As she does so, starts and takes out another book.) A second book—private—locked! (Tries to open it, but fails. Sees paper knife on bureau, and with it cuts cover from book. Begins to start at the first page.) ‘Mrs. Erlynne—£600—Mrs. Erlynne—£700—Mrs. Erlynne—£400.’ Oh! it is true! It is true! How horrible! (Throws book on floor.)

  Enter LORD WINDERMERE C.

  LORD WINDERMERE. Well, dear, has the fan been sent home yet? (Going R.C. Sees book.) Margaret, you have cut open my bank book. You have no right to do such a thing!

  LADY WINDERMERE. You think it wrong that you are found out, don’t you?

  LORD WINDERMERE. I think it wrong that a wife should spy on her husband.

  LADY WINDERMERE.. I did not spy on you. I never knew of this woman’s existence till half an hour ago. Some one who pitied me was kind enough to tell me what every one in London knows already—your daily visits to Curzon Street, your mad infatuation, the monstrous sums of money you squander on this infamous woman! (Crossing L.)

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret! don’t talk like that of Mrs. Erlynne, you don’t know how unjust it is!

  LADY WINDERMERE (turning to him). You are very jealous of Mrs. Erlynne’s honour. I wish you had been as jealous of mine.

  LORD WINDERMERE. Your honour is untouched, Margaret. You don’t think for a moment that—— (Puts book back into desk.)

  LADY WINDERMERE. I think that you spend your money strangely. That is all. Oh, don’t imagine I mind about the money. As far as I am concerned, you may squander everything we have. But what I do mind is that you who have loved me, you who have taught me to love you, should pass from the love that is given to the love that is bought. Oh, it’s horrible! (Sits on sofa.) And it is I who feel degraded! you don’t feel anything. I feel stained, utterly stained. You can’t realise how hideous the last six months seems to me now—every kiss you have given me is tainted in my memory.

  LORD WINDERMERE (crossing to her). Don’t say that, Margaret. I never loved any one in the whole world but you.

  LADY WINDERMERE (rises). Who is this woman, then? Why do you take a house for her?

  LORD WINDERMERE. I did not take a house for her.

  LADY WINDERMERE. You gave her the money to do it, which is the same thing.

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, as far as I have known Mrs. Erlynne——

  LADY WINDERMERE. Is there a Mr. Erlynne—or is he a myth?

  LORD WINDERMERE. Her husband died many years ago. She is alone in the world.

  LADY WINDERMERE. No relations?

  A pause.

  LORD WINDERMERE. None.

  LADY WINDERMERE. Rather curious, isn’t it? (L.)

  LORD WINDERMERE (L.C.). Margaret, I was saying to you—and I beg you to listen to me—that as far as I have known Mrs. Erlynne, she has conducted herself well. If years ago——

  LADY WINDERMERE. Oh! (Crossing R.C.) I don’t want details about her life!

  LORD WINDERMERE (C). I am not going to give you any details about her life. I tell you simply this—Mrs. Erlynne was once honoured, loved, respected. She was well born, she had position—she lost everything—threw it away, if you like. That makes it all the more bitter. Misfortunes one can endure—they come from outside, they are accidents. But to suffer for one’s own faults—ah!—there is the sting of life. It was twenty years ago, too. She was little more than a girl then. She had been a wife for even less time than you have.

  LADY WINDERMERE. I am not interested in her—and—you should not mention this woman and me in the same breath. It is an error of taste. (Sitting R. at desk.)

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, you could save this woman. She wants to get back into society, and she wants you to help her. (Crossing to her.)

  LADY WINDERMERE. Me!

  LORD WINDERMERE. Yes you.

  LADY WINDERMERE. How impertinent of her!

  A pause.

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, I came to ask you a great favour, and I still ask it of you, though you have discovered what I had intended you should never have known that I have given Mrs. Erlynne a large sum of money. I want you to send her an invitation for our party to-night. (Standing L. of her.)

  LADY WINDERMERE. You are mad! (Rises.)

  LORD WINDERMERE. I entreat you. People may chatter about her, do chatter about her, of course, but they don’t know anything definite against her. She has been to several houses—not to houses where you would go, I admit, but still to houses where women who are in what is called Society nowadays do go. That does not content her. She wants you to receive her once.

  LADY WINDERMERE. As a triumph for her, I suppose?

  LORD WINDERMERE. No; but because she knows that you are a good woman—and that if she comes here once she will have a chance of a happier, a surer life than she has had. She will make no further effort to know you. Won’t you help a woman who is trying to get back?

  LADY WINDERMERE. No! If a woman really repents, she never wishes to return to the society that has made or seen her ruin.

  LORD WINDERMERE. I beg of you.

  LADY WINDERMERE (crossing to door R.). I am going to dress for dinner, and don’t mention the subject again this evening. Arthur (going to him C.), you fancy because I have no father or mother that I am alone in the world, and that you can treat me as you choose. You are wrong, I have friends, many friends.

  LORD WINDERMERE (L.C.). Margaret, you are talking foolishly, recklessly. I won’t argue with you, but I insist upon your asking Mrs. Erlynne to-night.

  LADY WINDERMERE (R.C.). I shall do nothing of the kind. (Crossing L.C.)

  LORD WINDERMERE. You refuse? (C.)

  LADY WINDERMERE. Absolutely!

  LORD WINDERMERE. Ah, Margaret, do this for my sake; it is her last chance.

  LADY WINDERMERE. What has that to do with me?

  LORD WINDERMERE. How hard good women are!

/>   LADY WINDERMERE. How weak bad men are!

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, none of us men may be good enough for the women we marry—that is quite true—but you don’t imagine I would ever—oh, the suggestion is monstrous!

  LADY WINDERMERE. Why should you be different from other men? I am told that there is hardly a husband in London who does not waste his life over some shameful passion.

  LORD WINDERMERE. I am not one of them.

  LADY WINDERMERE. I am not sure of that!

  LORD WINDERMERE. You are sure in your heart. But don’t make chasm after chasm between us. God knows the last few minutes have thrust us wide enough apart. Sit down and write the card.

  LADY WINDERMERE. Nothing in the whole world would induce me.

  LORD WINDERMERE (crossing to bureau). Then I will! (Rings electric bell, sits and writes card.)

  LADY WINDERMERE. You are going to invite this woman? (Crossing to him.)

  LORD WINDERMERE. Yes.

  Pause. Enter PARKER.

  Parker!

  PARKER. Yes, my lord. (Comes down L.C.)

  LORD WINDERMERE. Have this note sent to Mrs. Erlynne at No. 84A Curzon Street. (Crossing to L.C. and giving note to PARXER.) There is no answer!

  Exit PARKER C.

  LADY WINDERMERE. Arthur, if that woman comes here, I shall insult her.

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, don’t say that.

  LADY WINDERMERE. I mean it.

  LORD WINDERMERE. Child, if you did such a thing, there’s not a woman in London who wouldn’t pity you.

  LADY WINDERMERE. There is not a good woman in London who would not applaud me. We have been too lax. We must make an example. I propose to begin to-night. (Picking up fan.) Yes, you gave me this fan to-day; it was your birthday present. If that woman crosses my threshold, I shall strike her across the face with it.

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, you couldn’t do such a thing.

  LADY WINDERMERE. You don’t know me! (Moves R.)

  Enter PARKER.

  Parker!

  PARKER. Yes, my lady.

  LADY WINDERMERE. I shall dine in my own room. I don’t want dinner, in fact. See that everything is ready by half-past ten. And, Parker, be sure you pronounce the names of the guests very distinctly to-night. Sometimes you speak so fast that I miss them. I am particularly anxious to hear the names quite clearly, so as to make no mistake. You understand, Parker?

  PARKER. Yes, my lady.

  LADY WINDERMERE. That will do!

  Exit PARKER C.

  (Speaking to LORD WINDERMERE.) Arthur, if that woman comes here—I warn you——

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, you’ll ruin us!

  LADY WINDERMERE. Us! From this moment my life is separate from yours. But if you wish to avoid a public scandal, write at once to this woman, and tell here that I forbid her to come here!

  LORD WINDERMERE. I will not—I cannot—she must come!

  LADY WINDERMERE. Then I shall do exactly as I have said. (Goes R.) You leave me no choice. (Exit R.)

  LORD WINDERMERE (calling after her). Margaret! Margaret! (A pause.) My God! What shall I do? I dare not tell her who this woman really is. The shame would kill her. (Sinks down into a chair and buries his face in his hands.)

  Curtain

  Second Act

  SCENE

  Drawing-room in Lord Windermere’s house. Door R.U. opening into ball-room, where band is playing. Door L. through which guests are entering. Door L.U. opens on to illuminated terrace. Palms, flowers, and brilliant lights. Room crowded with guests. Lady Windermere is receiving them.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK (up C). So strange Lord Windermere isn’t here. Mr. Hopper is very late, too. You have kept those five dances for him, Agatha? (Comes down.)

  LADY AGATHA. Yes, mamma.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK (sitting on sofa). Just let me see your card. I’m so glad Lady Windermere has revived cards.—They’re a mother’s only safeguard. You dear simple little thing! (Scratches out two names.) No nice girl should ever waltz with such particularly younger sons! It looks so fast! The last two dances you might pass on the terrace with Mr. Hopper.

  Enter MR. DUMBY and LADY PLYMDALE from the ball-room.

  LADY AGATHA. Yes, mamma.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK (fanning herself). The air is so pleasant there.

  PARKER. Mrs. Cowper-Cowper. Lady Stutfield. Sir James Royston. Mr. Guy Berkeley.

  These people enter as announced.

  DUMBY. Good evening, Lady Stutfield. I suppose this will be the last ball of the season?

  LADY STUTFIELD. I suppose so, Mr. Dumby. It’s been a delightful season, hasn’t it?

  DUMBY. Quite delightful! Good evening, Duchess. I suppose this will be the last ball of the season?

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. I suppose so, Mr. Dumby. It has been a very dull season, hasn’t it?

  DUMBY. Dreadfully dull! Dreadfully dull!

  MRS. COWPER-COWPER. Good evening, Mr. Dumby. I suppose this will be the last ball of the season?

  DUMBY. Oh, I think not. There’ll probably be two more. (Wanders back to LADY PLYMDALE.)

  PARKER. Mr. Rufford. Lady Jedburgh and Miss Graham. Mr. Hopper.

  These people enter as announced.

  HOPPER. How do you do, Lady Windermere? How do you do, Duchess? (Bows to LADY AGATHA.)

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Dear Mr. Hopper, how nice of you to come so early. We all know how you are run after in London.

  HOPPER. Capital place, London! They are not nearly so exclusive in London as they are in Sydney.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Ah! we know your value, Mr. Hopper. We wish there were more like you. It would make life so much easier. Do you know, Mr. Hopper, dear Agatha and I are so much interested in Australia. It must be so pretty with all the dear little kangaroos flying about. Agatha has found it on the map. What a curious shape it is! Just like a large packing case. However, it is a very young country, isn’t it?

  HOPPER. Wasn’t it made at the same time as the others, Duchess?

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. How clever you are, Mr. Hopper. You have a cleverness quite of your own. Now I mustn’t keep you.

  HOPPER. But I should like to dance with Lady Agatha, Duchess.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Well, I hope she has a dance left. Have you a dance left, Agatha?

  LADY AGATHA. Yes, mamma.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. The next one?

  LADY AGATHA. Yes, mamma.

  HOPPER. May I have the pleasure? (LADY AGATHA bows.)

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Mind you take great care of my little chatterbox, Mr. Hopper.

  LADY AGATHA and MR. HOPPER pass into ball-room.

  Enter LORD WINDERMERE L.

  LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, I want to speak to you.

  LADY WINDERMERE. In a moment.

  The music stops.

  PARKER. Lord Augustus Lorton.

  Enter LORD AUGUSTUS.

  LORD AUGUSTUS. Good evening, Lady Windermere.

  DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Sir James, will you take me into the ball-room? Augustus has been dining with us to-night. I really have had quite enough of dear Augustus for the moment.

  SIR JAMES ROYSTON gives the DUCHESS his arm and escorts her into the ball-room.

  PARKER. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Bowden. Lord and Lady Paisley. Lord Darlington.

  These people enter as announced.

  LORD AUGUSTUS (coming Up to LORD WINDERMERE). Want to speak to you particularly, dear boy. I’m worn to a shadow. Know I don’t look it. None of us men do look what we really are. Demmed good thing, too. What I want to know is this. Who is she? Where does she come from? Why hasn’t she got any demmed relations? Demmed nuisance, relations! But they make one so demmed respectable.

  LORD WINDERMERE. You are talking of Mrs. Erlynne, I suppose? I only met her six months ago. Till then, I never knew of her existence.

  LORD AUGUSTUS. You have seen a good deal of her since then.

  LORD WINDERMERE (coldly). Yes, I have seen a good deal of her since then. I have just seen her.

  LORD A
UGUSTUS. Egad! the women are very down on her. I have been dining with Arabella this evening! By Jove! you should have heard what She said about Mrs. Erlynne. She didn’t leave a rag on her. … (Aside.) Berwick and I told her that didn’t matter much, as the lady in question must have an extremely fine figure. You should have seen Arabella’s expression! … But, look here, dear boy. I don’t know what to do about Mrs. Erlynne. Egad! I might be married to her; she treats me with such demmed indifference. She’s deuced clever, too! She explains everything. Egad! she explains you. She has got any amount of explanations for you—and all of them different.

  LORD WINDERMERE. No explanations are necessary about my friendship with Mrs. Erlynne.

  LORD AUGUSTUS. Hem! Well, look here, dear old fellow. Do you think she will ever get into this demmed thing called Society? Would you introduce her to your wife? No use beating about the confounded bush. Would you do that?

  LORD WINDERMERE. Mrs. Erlynne is coming here to-night.

  LORD AUGUSTUS. Your wife has sent her a card?

  LORD WINDERMERE. Mrs. Erlynne has received a card.

  LORD AUGUSTUS. Then she’s all right, dear boy. But why didn’t you tell me that before? It would have saved me a heap of worry and demmed misunderstandings!

  LADY AGATHA and MR. HOPPER cross and exit on terrace L.U.E.

  PARKER. Mr. Cecil Graham!

  Enter MR. CECIL GRAHAM.

  CECIL GRAHAM (bows to LADY WINDERMERE, passes over and shakes hands with LORD WINDERMERE). Good evening, Arthur. Why don’t you ask me how I am? I like people to ask me how I am. It shows a wide-spread interest in my health. Now, to-night I am not at all well. Been dining with my people. Wonder why it is one’s people are always so tedious? My father would talk morality after dinner. I told him he was old enough to know better. But my experience is that as soon as people are old enough to know better, they don’t know anything at all. Hallo, Tuppy! Hear you’re going to be married again; thought you were tired of that game.

  LORD AUGUSTUS. You’re excessively trivial, my dear boy, excessively trivial!

  CECIL GRAHAM. By the way, Tuppy, which is it? Have you been twice married and once divorced, or twice divorced and once married? I say you’ve been twice divorced and once married. It seems so much more probable.