The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde: 250+ Titles in One Edition. Оскар Уайльд

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СКАЧАТЬ Much more so than her husband, though he is a typical Englishman, always dull and usually violent.

      LADY CHILTERN. [Makes no answer, but remains standing. There is a pause. Then the eyes of the two women meet. LADY CHILTERN looks stern and pale. MRS. CHEVELEY seem rather amused.] Mrs. Cheveley, I think it is right to tell you quite frankly that, had I known who you really were, I should not have invited you to my house last night.

      MRS. CHEVELEY [With an impertinent smile.] Really?

      LADY CHILTERN. I could not have done so.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. I see that after all these years you have not changed a bit, Gertrude.

      LADY CHILTERN. I never change.

      MRS. CHEVELEY [Elevating her eyebrows.] Then life has taught you nothing?

      LADY CHILTERN. It has taught me that a person who has once been guilty of a dishonest and dishonourable action may be guilty of it a second time, and should be shunned.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. Would you apply that rule to every one?

      LADY CHILTERN. Yes, to every one, without exception.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. Then I am sorry for you, Gertrude, very sorry for you.

      LADY CHILTERN. You see now, I was sure, that for many reasons any further acquaintance between us during your stay in London is quite impossible?

      MRS. CHEVELEY [Leaning back in her chair.] Do you know, Gertrude, I don’t mind your talking morality a bit. Morality is simply the attitude we adopt towards people whom we personally dislike. You dislike me. I am quite aware of that. And I have always detested you. And yet I have come here to do you a service.

      LADY CHILTERN. [Contemptuously.] Like the service you wished to render my husband last night, I suppose. Thank heaven, I saved him from that.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. [Starting to her feet.] It was you who made him write that insolent letter to me? It was you who made him break his promise?

      LADY CHILTERN. Yes.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. Then you must make him keep it. I give you till tomorrow morning — no more. If by that time your husband does not solemnly bind himself to help me in this great scheme in which I am interested —

      LADY CHILTERN. This fraudulent speculation —

      MRS. CHEVELEY. Call it what you choose. I hold your husband in the hollow of my hand, and if you are wise you will make him do what I tell him.

      LADY CHILTERN. [Rising and going towards her.] You are impertinent. What has my husband to do with you? With a woman like you?

      MRS. CHEVELEY [With a bitter laugh.] In this world like meets with like. It is because your husband is himself fraudulent and dishonest that we pair so well together. Between you and him there are chasms. He and I are closer than friends. We are enemies linked together. The same sin binds us.

      LADY CHILTERN. How dare you class my husband with yourself? How dare you threaten him or me? Leave my house. You are unfit to enter it.

      [SIR ROBERT CHILTERN enters from behind. He hears his wife’s last words, and sees to whom they are addressed. He grows deadly pale.]

      MRS. CHEVELEY. Your house! A house bought with the price of dishonour. A house, everything in which has been paid for by fraud. [Turns round and sees SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.] Ask him what the origin of his fortune is! Get him to tell you how he sold to a stockbroker a Cabinet secret. Learn from him to what you owe your position.

      LADY CHILTERN. It is not true! Robert! It is not true!

      MRS. CHEVELEY. [Pointing at him with outstretched finger.] Look at him! Can he deny it? Does he dare to?

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Go! Go at once. You have done your worst now.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. My worst? I have not yet finished with you, with either of you. I give you both till tomorrow at noon. If by then you don’t do what I bid you to do, the whole world shall know the origin of Robert Chiltern.

      [SIR ROBERT CHILTERN strikes the bell. Enter MASON.]

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Show Mrs. Cheveley out.

      [MRS. CHEVELEY starts; then bows with somewhat exaggerated politeness to LADY CHILTERN, who makes no sign of response. As she passes by SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, who is standing close to the door, she pauses for a moment and looks him straight in the face. She then goes out, followed by the servant, who closes the door after him. The husband and wife are left alone. LADY CHILTERN stands like some one in a dreadful dream. Then she turns round and looks at her husband. She looks at him with strange eyes, as though she were seeing him for the first time.]

      LADY CHILTERN. You sold a Cabinet secret for money! You began your life with fraud! You built up your career on dishonour! Oh, tell me it is not true! Lie to me! Lie to me! Tell me it is not true!

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What this woman said is quite true. But, Gertrude, listen to me. You don’t realise how I was tempted. Let me tell you the whole thing. [Goes towards her.]

      LADY CHILTERN. Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. I feel as if you had soiled me for ever. Oh! what a mask you have been wearing all these years! A horrible painted mask! You sold yourself for money. Oh! a common thief were better. You put yourself up to sale to the highest bidder! You were bought in the market. You lied to the whole world. And yet you will not lie to me.

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Rushing towards her.] Gertrude! Gertrude!

      LADY CHILTERN. [Thrusting him back with outstretched hands.] No, don’t speak! Say nothing! Your voice wakes terrible memories — memories of things that made me love you — memories of words that made me love you — memories that now are horrible to me. And how I worshipped you! You were to me something apart from common life, a thing pure, noble, honest, without stain. The world seemed to me finer because you were in it, and goodness more real because you lived. And now — oh, when I think that I made of a man like you my ideal! the ideal of my life!

      SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. There was your mistake. There was your error. The error all women commit. Why can’t you women love us, faults and all? Why do you place us on monstrous pedestals? We have all feet of clay, women as well as men; but when we men love women, we love them knowing their weaknesses, their follies, their imperfections, love them all the more, it may be, for that reason. It is not the perfect, but the imperfect, who have need of love. It is when we are wounded by our own hands, or by the hands of others, that love should come to cure us — else what use is love at all? All sins, except a sin against itself, Love should forgive. All lives, save loveless lives, true Love should pardon. A man’s love is like that. It is wider, larger, more human than a woman’s. Women think that they are making ideals of men. What they are making of us are false idols merely. You made your false idol of me, and I had not the courage to come down, show you my wounds, tell you my weaknesses. I was afraid that I might lose your love, as I have lost it now. And so, last night you ruined my life for me — yes, ruined it! What this woman asked of me was nothing compared to what she offered to me. She offered security, peace, stability. The sin of my youth, that I had thought was buried, rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible, with its hands at my throat. I could have killed it for ever, sent it back into its tomb, destroyed its record, burned the one witness against me. You prevented me. No one but you, you know it. And now what is there before me but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, the mockery of the world, a lonely dishonoured СКАЧАТЬ