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LORD GORING. [_Striking the table_.] Robert, you must fight her. You must fight her.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. But how?
LORD GORING. I can't tell you how at present. I have not the smallest idea. But every one has some weak point. There is some flaw in each one of us. [_Strolls to the fireplace and looks at himself in the gla.s.s_.]
My father tells me that even I have faults. Perhaps I have. I don't know.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. In defending myself against Mrs. Cheveley, I have a right to use any weapon I can find, have I not?
LORD GORING. [_Still looking in the gla.s.s_.] In your place I don't think I should have the smallest scruple in doing so. She is thoroughly well able to take care of herself.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Sits down at the table and takes a pen in his hand_.] Well, I shall send a cipher telegram to the Emba.s.sy at Vienna, to inquire if there is anything known against her. There may be some secret scandal she might be afraid of.
LORD GORING. [_Settling his b.u.t.tonhole_.] Oh, I should fancy Mrs.
Cheveley is one of those very modern women of our time who find a new scandal as becoming as a new bonnet, and air them both in the Park every afternoon at five-thirty. I am sure she adores scandals, and that the sorrow of her life at present is that she can't manage to have enough of them.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Writing_.] Why do you say that?
LORD GORING. [_Turning round_.] Well, she wore far too much rouge last night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of despair in a woman.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Striking a bell_.] But it is worth while my wiring to Vienna, is it not?
LORD GORING. It is always worth while asking a question, though it is not always worth while answering one.
[_Enter_ MASON.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Is Mr. Trafford in his room?
MASON. Yes, Sir Robert.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Puts what he has written into an envelope_, _which he then carefully closes_.] Tell him to have this sent off in cipher at once. There must not be a moment's delay.
MASON. Yes, Sir Robert.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! just give that back to me again.
[_Writes something on the envelope_. MASON _then goes out with the letter_.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. She must have had some curious hold over Baron Arnheim. I wonder what it was.
LORD GORING. [_Smiling_.] I wonder.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I will fight her to the death, as long as my wife knows nothing.
LORD GORING. [_Strongly_.] Oh, fight in any case-in any case.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_With a gesture of despair_.] If my wife found out, there would be little left to fight for. Well, as soon as I hear from Vienna, I shall let you know the result. It is a chance, just a chance, but I believe in it. And as I fought the age with its own weapons, I will fight her with her weapons. It is only fair, and she looks like a woman with a past, doesn't she?
LORD GORING. Most pretty women do. But there is a fas.h.i.+on in pasts just as there is a fas.h.i.+on in frocks. Perhaps Mrs. Cheveley's past is merely a slightly decollete one, and they are excessively popular nowadays.
Besides, my dear Robert, I should not build too high hopes on frightening Mrs. Cheveley. I should not fancy Mrs. Cheveley is a woman who would be easily frightened. She has survived all her creditors, and she shows wonderful presence of mind.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Oh! I live on hopes now. I clutch at every chance.
I feel like a man on a s.h.i.+p that is sinking. The water is round my feet, and the very air is bitter with storm. Hus.h.!.+ I hear my wife's voice.
[_Enter_ LADY CHILTERN _in walking dress_.]
LADY CHILTERN. Good afternoon, Lord Goring!
LORD GORING. Good afternoon, Lady Chiltern! Have you been in the Park?
LADY CHILTERN. No; I have just come from the Woman's Liberal a.s.sociation, where, by the way, Robert, your name was received with loud applause, and now I have come in to have my tea. [_To_ LORD GORING.]
You will wait and have some tea, won't you?
LORD GORING. I'll wait for a short time, thanks.
LADY CHILTERN. I will be back in a moment. I am only going to take my hat off.
LORD GORING. [_In his most earnest manner_.] Oh! please don't. It is so pretty. One of the prettiest hats I ever saw. I hope the Woman's Liberal a.s.sociation received it with loud applause.
LADY CHILTERN. [_With a smile_.] We have much more important work to do than look at each other's bonnets, Lord Goring.
LORD GORING. Really? What sort of work?
LADY CHILTERN. Oh! dull, useful, delightful things, Factory Acts, Female Inspectors, the Eight Hours' Bill, the Parliamentary Franchise... .
Everything, in fact, that you would find thoroughly uninteresting.
LORD GORING. And never bonnets?
LADY CHILTERN. [_With mock indignation_.] Never bonnets, never!
[LADY CHILTERN _goes out through the door leading to her boudoir_.]
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Takes_ LORD GORING'S _hand_.] You have been a good friend to me, Arthur, a thoroughly good friend.
LORD GORING. I don't know that I have been able to do much for you, Robert, as yet. In fact, I have not been able to do anything for you, as far as I can see. I am thoroughly disappointed with myself.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You have enabled me to tell you the truth. That is something. The truth has always stifled me.
LORD GORING. Ah! the truth is a thing I get rid of as soon as possible!
Bad habit, by the way. Makes one very unpopular at the club ... with the older members. They call it being conceited. Perhaps it is.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I would to G.o.d that I had been able to tell the truth ... to live the truth. Ah! that is the great thing in life, to live the truth. [_Sighs_, _and goes towards the door_.] I'll see you soon again, Arthur, shan't I?
LORD GORING. Certainly. Whenever you like. I'm going to look in at the Bachelors' Ball to-night, unless I find something better to do. But I'll come round to-morrow morning. If you should want me to-night by any chance, send round a note to Curzon Street.
SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Thank you.
[_As he reaches the door_, LADY CHILTERN _enters from her boudoir_.]
LADY CHILTERN. You are not going, Robert?