LADY WINDERMERE: Why do you talk so trivially about life, then?
LORD DARLINGTON: Because I think that life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it. (Moves up C.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: What does he mean? Do, as a concession to my poor wits, Lord Darlington, just explain to me what you really mean.
LORD DARLINGTON (coming down back of table): I think I had better not, Duchess. Nowadays to be intelligible is to be found out. Good-bye! (Shakes hands with DUCHESS.) And now – (goes up stage) – Lady Windermere, good-bye. I may come to-night, mayn’t I? Do let me come.
LADY WINDERMERE (standing up stage with LORD DARLINGTON): Yes, certainly. But you are not to say foolish, insincere things to people.
LORD DARLINGTON (smiling): Ah! You are beginning to reform me. It is a dangerous thing to reform any one, Lady Windermere. (Bows, and exit C.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK (who has risen, goes C.): What a charming wicked creature! I like him so much. I’m quite delighted he’s gone! How sweet you’re looking! Where do you get your gowns? And now I must tell you how sorry I am for you, dear Margaret. (Crosses to sofa and sits with LADY WINDERMERE.) Agatha, darling!
LADY AGATHA: Yes, mamma. (Rises.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Will you go and look over the photograph album that I see there?
LADY AGATHA: Yes, mamma. (Goes to table up L.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Dear girl! She is so fond of photographs of Switzerland. Such a pure taste, I think. But I really am so sorry for you, Margaret.
LADY WINDERMERE (smiling): Why, Duchess?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Oh, on account of that horrid woman. She dresses so well, too, which makes it much worse, sets such a dreadful example. Augustus – you know my disreputable brother – such a trial to us all – well, Augustus is completely infatuated about her. It is quite scandalous, for she is absolutely inadmissible into society. Many a woman has a past, but I am told that she has at least a dozen, and that they all fit.
LADY WINDERMERE: Whom are you talking about, Duchess?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: About Mrs. Erlynne.
LADY WINDERMERE: Mrs. Erlynne? I never heard of her, Duchess. And what has she to do with me?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: My poor child! Agatha, darling!
LADY AGATHA: Yes, mamma.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Will you go out on the terrace and look at the sunset?
LADY AGATHA: Yes, mamma. (Exit through window L.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Sweet girl! So devoted to sunsets! Shows such refinement of feeling, does it not? After all, there is nothing like Nature, is there?
LADY WINDERMERE: But what is it, Duchess? Why do you talk to me about this person?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Don’t you really know? I assure you we’re all so distressed about it. Only last night at dear Lady Jansen’s every one was saying how extraordinary it was that, of all men in London, Windermere should behave in such a way.
LADY WINDERMERE: My husband – what has he got to do with any woman of that kind?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Ah, what indeed, dear? That is the point. He goes to see her continually, and stops for hours at a time, and while he is there she is not at home to any one. Not that many ladies call on her, dear, but she has a great many disreputable men friends – my own brother particularly, as I told you – and that is what makes it so dreadful about Windermere. We looked upon him as being such a model husband, but I am afraid there is no doubt about it. My dear nieces – you know the Saville girls, don’t you? – such nice domestic creatures – plain, dreadfully plain – but so good – well, they’re always at the window doing fancy work, and making ugly things for the poor, which I think so useful of them in these dreadful socialistic days, and this terrible woman has taken a house in Curzon Street, right opposite them – such a respectable street, too! I don’t know what we’re coming to! And they tell me that Windermere goes there four and five times a week – they see him. They can’t help it – and although they never talk scandal, they – well, of course – they remark on it to every one. And the worst of it all is that I have been told that this woman has got a great deal of money out of somebody, for it seems that she came to London six months ago without anything at all to speak of, and now she has this charming house in Mayfair, drives her ponies in the Park every afternoon and all – well, all – since she had known poor dear Windermere.
LADY WINDERMERE: Oh, I can’t believe it!
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: But it’s quite true, my dear. The whole of London knows it. That is why I felt it was better to come and talk to you, and advise you to take Windermere away at once to Homburg or to Aix, where he’ll have something to amuse him, and where you can watch him all day long. I assure you, my dear, that on several occasions after I was first married, I had to pretend to be very ill, and was obliged to drink the most unpleasant mineral waters, merely to get Berwick out of town. He was so extremely susceptible. Though I am bound to say he never gave away any large sums of money to anybody. He is far too high-principled for that!
LADY WINDERMERE (interrupting): Duchess, Duchess, it’s impossible! (Rising and crossing stage to C.): We are only married two years. Our child is but six months old. (Sits in chair R. of L. table.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Ah, the dear pretty baby! How is the little darling? Is it a boy or a girl? I hope a girl – ah, no, I remember it’s a boy! I’m so sorry. Boys are so wicked. My boy is excessively immoral. You wouldn’t believe at what hours he comes home. And he’s only left Oxford a few months – I really don’t know what they teach them there.
LADY WINDERMERE: Are all men bad?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Oh, all of them, my dear, all of them, without any exception. And they never grow any better. Men become old, but they never become good.
LADY WINDERMERE: Windermere and I married for love.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: Yes, we begin like that. It was only Berwick’s brutal and incessant threats of suicide that made me accept him at all, and before the year was out, he was running after all kinds of petticoats, every colour, every shape, every material. In fact, before the honeymoon was over, I caught him winking at my maid, a most pretty, respectable girl. I dismissed her at once without a character. No, I remember I passed her on to my sister; poor dear Sir George is so short-sighted, I thought it wouldn’t matter. But it did, though – it was most unfortunate. (Rises.) And now, my dear child, I must go, as we are dining out. And mind you don’t take this little aberration of Windermere’s too much to heart. Just take him abroad, and he’ll come back to you all right.
LADY WINDERMERE: Come back to me? (C.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK: (L.C.): Yes, dear, these wicked women get our husbands away from us, but they always come back, slightly damaged, of course. And don’t make scenes, men hate them!
LADY WINDERMERE: It is very kind of you, Duchess, to come and tell 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