The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: 150+ Titles in One Edition. Oscar Wilde

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      [Enter MASON.]

      LADY CHILTERN. What sort of a brooch was it that you lost, Mrs. Cheveley?

      MRS. CHEVELEY. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby, a rather large ruby.

      LADY MARKBY. I thought you said there was a sapphire on the head, dear?

      MRS. CHEVELEY [Smiling.] No, lady Markby — a ruby.

      LADY MARKBY. [Nodding her head.] And very becoming, I am quite sure.

      LADY CHILTERN. Has a ruby and diamond brooch been found in any of the rooms this morning, Mason?

      MASON. No, my lady.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. It really is of no consequence, Lady Chiltern. I am so sorry to have put you to any inconvenience.

      LADY CHILTERN. [Coldly.] Oh, it has been no inconvenience. That will do, Mason. You can bring tea.

      [Exit MASON.]

      LADY MARKBY. Well, I must say it is most annoying to lose anything. I remember once at Bath, years ago, losing in the Pump Room an exceedingly handsome cameo bracelet that Sir John had given me. I don’t think he has ever given me anything since, I am sorry to say. He has sadly degenerated. Really, this horrid House of Commons quite ruins our husbands for us. I think the Lower House by far the greatest blow to a happy married life that there has been since that terrible thing called the Higher Education of Women was invented.

      LADY CHILTERN. Ah! it is heresy to say that in this house, Lady Markby. Robert is a great champion of the Higher Education of Women, and so, I am afraid, am I.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. The higher education of men is what I should like to see. Men need it so sadly.

      LADY MARKBY. They do, dear. But I am afraid such a scheme would be quite unpractical. I don’t think man has much capacity for development. He has got as far as he can, and that is not far, is it? With regard to women, well, dear Gertrude, you belong to the younger generation, and I am sure it is all right if you approve of it. In my time, of course, we were taught not to understand anything. That was the old system, and wonderfully interesting it was. I assure you that the amount of things I and my poor dear sister were taught not to understand was quite extraordinary. But modern women understand everything, I am told.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. Except their husbands. That is the one thing the modern woman never understands.

      LADY MARKBY. And a very good thing too, dear, I dare say. It might break up many a happy home if they did. Not yours, I need hardly say, Gertrude. You have married a pattern husband. I wish I could say as much for myself. But since Sir John has taken to attending the debates regularly, which he never used to do in the good old days, his language has become quite impossible. He always seems to think that he is addressing the House, and consequently whenever he discusses the state of the agricultural labourer, or the Welsh Church, or something quite improper of that kind, I am obliged to send all the servants out of the room. It is not pleasant to see one’s own butler, who has been with one for twenty-three years, actually blushing at the sideboard, and the footmen making contortions in corners like persons in circuses. I assure you my life will be quite ruined unless they send John at once to the Upper House. He won’t take any interest in politics then, will he? The House of Lords is so sensible. An assembly of gentlemen. But in his present state, Sir John is really a great trial. Why, this morning before breakfast was half over, he stood up on the hearthrug, put his hands in his pockets, and appealed to the country at the top of his voice. I left the table as soon as I had my second cup of tea, I need hardly say. But his violent language could be heard all over the house! I trust, Gertrude, that Sir Robert is not like that?

      LADY CHILTERN. But I am very much interested in politics, Lady Markby. I love to hear Robert talk about them.

      LADY MARKBY. Well, I hope he is not as devoted to Blue Books as Sir John is. I don’t think they can be quite improving reading for any one.

      MRS. CHEVELEY [Languidly.] I have never read a Blue Book. I prefer books … in yellow covers.

      LADY MARKBY. [Genially unconscious.] Yellow is a gayer colour, is it not? I used to wear yellow a good deal in my early days, and would do so now if Sir John was not so painfully personal in his observations, and a man on the question of dress is always ridiculous, is he not?

      MRS. CHEVELEY. Oh, no! I think men are the only authorities on dress.

      LADY MARKBY. Really? One wouldn’t say so from the sort of hats they wear? would one?

      [The butler enters, followed by the footman. Tea is set on a small table close to LADY CHILTERN.]

      LADY CHILTERN. May I give you some tea, Mrs. Cheveley?

      MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. [The butler hands MRS. CHEVELEY a cup of tea on a salver.]

      LADY CHILTERN. Some tea, Lady Markby?

      LADY MARKBY. No thanks, dear. [The servants go out.] The fact is, I have promised to go round for ten minutes to see poor Lady Brancaster, who is in very great trouble. Her daughter, quite a well-brought-up girl, too, has actually become engaged to be married to a curate in Shropshire. It is very sad, very sad indeed. I can’t understand this modern mania for curates. In my time we girls saw them, of course, running about the place like rabbits. But we never took any notice of them, I need hardly say. But I am told that nowadays country society is quite honeycombed with them. I think it most irreligious. And then the eldest son has quarrelled with his father, and it is said that when they meet at the club Lord Brancaster always hides himself behind the money article in The Times. However, I believe that is quite a common occurrence nowadays and that they have to take in extra copies of The Times at all the clubs in St. James’s Street; there are so many sons who won’t have anything to do with their fathers, and so many fathers who won’t speak to their sons. I think myself, it is very much to be regretted.

      MRS. CHEVELEY. So do I. Fathers have so much to learn from their sons nowadays.

      LADY MARKBY. Really, dear? What?

      MRS. CHEVELEY. The art of living. The only really Fine Art we have produced in modern times.

      LADY MARKBY. [Shaking her head.] Ah! I am afraid Lord Brancaster knew a good deal about that. More than his poor wife ever did. [Turning to LADY CHILTERN.] You know Lady Brancaster, don’t you, dear?

      LADY CHILTERN. Just slightly. She was staying at Langton last autumn, when we were there.

      LADY MARKBY. Well, like all stout women, she looks the very picture of happiness, as no doubt you noticed. But there are many tragedies in her family, besides this affair of the curate. Her own sister, Mrs. Jekyll, had a most unhappy life; through no fault of her own, I am sorry to say. She ultimately was so broken-hearted that she went into a convent, or on to the operatic stage, I forget which. No; I think it was decorative art-needlework she took up. I know she had lost all sense of pleasure in life. [Rising.] And now, Gertrude, if you will allow me, I shall leave Mrs. Cheveley in your charge and call back for her in a quarter of an hour. Or perhaps, dear Mrs. Cheveley, you wouldn’t mind waiting in the carriage while СКАЧАТЬ