Lady Windermere's Fan (6 page)

(Enter MRS. ERLYNNE L.)

MRS. ERLYNNE. Lady Windermere!
(LADY WINDERMERE starts and looks
up. Then recoils in contempt.)
Thank Heaven I am in time. You
must go back to your husband's house immediately.

LADY WINDERMERE. Must?

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(Authoritatively.)
Yes, you must! There is not a
second to be lost. Lord Darlington may return at any moment.

LADY WINDERMERE. Don't come near me!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Oh! You are on the brink of ruin, you are on the
brink of a hideous precipice. You must leave this place at once,
my carriage is waiting at the corner of the street. You must come
with me and drive straight home.

(LADY WINDERMERE throws off her cloak and flings it on the sofa.)

What are you doing?

LADY WINDERMERE. Mrs. Erlynne—if you had not come here, I would
have gone back. But now that I see you, I feel that nothing in the
whole world would induce me to live under the same roof as Lord
Windermere. You fill me with horror. There is something about you
that stirs the wildest—rage within me. And I know why you are
here. My husband sent you to lure me back that I might serve as a
blind to whatever relations exist between you and him.

MRS. ERLYNNE. Oh! You don't think that—you can't.

LADY WINDERMERE. Go back to my husband, Mrs. Erlynne. He belongs
to you and not to me. I suppose he is afraid of a scandal. Men
are such cowards. They outrage every law of the world, and are
afraid of the world's tongue. But he had better prepare himself.
He shall have a scandal. He shall have the worst scandal there has
been in London for years. He shall see his name in every vile
paper, mine on every hideous placard.

MRS. ERLYNNE. No—no -

LADY WINDERMERE. Yes! he shall. Had he come himself, I admit I
would have gone back to the life of degradation you and he had
prepared for me—I was going back—but to stay himself at home, and
to send you as his messenger—oh! it was infamous—infamous.

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(C.)
Lady Windermere, you wrong me horribly—you
wrong your husband horribly. He doesn't know you are here—he
thinks you are safe in your own house. He thinks you are asleep in
your own room. He never read the mad letter you wrote to him!

LADY WINDERMERE.
(R.)
Never read it!

MRS. ERLYNNE. No—he knows nothing about it.

LADY WINDERMERE. How simple you think me!
(Going to her.)
You
are lying to me!

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(Restraining herself.)
I am not. I am telling you
the truth.

LADY WINDERMERE. If my husband didn't read my letter, how is it
that you are here? Who told you I had left the house you were
shameless enough to enter? Who told you where I had gone to? My
husband told you, and sent you to decoy me back.
(Crosses L.)

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(R.C.)
Your husband has never seen the letter. I—
saw it, I opened it. I—read it.

LADY WINDERMERE.
(Turning to her.)
You opened a letter of mine to
my husband? You wouldn't dare!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Dare! Oh! to save you from the abyss into which you
are falling, there is nothing in the world I would not dare,
nothing in the whole world. Here is the letter. Your husband has
never read it. He never shall read it.
(Going to fireplace.)
It
should never have been written.
(Tears it and throws it into the
fire.)

LADY WINDERMERE.
(With infinite contempt in her voice and look.)
How do I know that that was my letter after all? You seem to think
the commonest device can take me in!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Oh! why do you disbelieve everything I tell you?
What object do you think I have in coming here, except to save you
from utter ruin, to save you from the consequence of a hideous
mistake? That letter that is burnt now WAS your letter. I swear
it to you!

LADY WINDERMERE.
(Slowly.)
You took good care to burn it before I
had examined it. I cannot trust you. You, whose whole life is a
lie, could you speak the truth about anything?
(Sits down.)

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(Hurriedly.)
Think as you like about me—say what
you choose against me, but go back, go back to the husband you
love.

LADY WINDERMERE.
(Sullenly.)
I do NOT love him!

MRS. ERLYNNE. You do, and you know that he loves you.

LADY WINDERMERE. He does not understand what love is. He
understands it as little as you do—but I see what you want. It
would be a great advantage for you to get me back. Dear Heaven!
what a life I would have then! Living at the mercy of a woman who
has neither mercy nor pity in her, a woman whom it is an infamy to
meet, a degradation to know, a vile woman, a woman who comes
between husband and wife!

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(With a gesture of despair.)
Lady Windermere, Lady
Windermere, don't say such terrible things. You don't know how
terrible they are, how terrible and how unjust. Listen, you must
listen! Only go back to your husband, and I promise you never to
communicate with him again on any pretext—never to see him—never
to have anything to do with his life or yours. The money that he
gave me, he gave me not through love, but through hatred, not in
worship, but in contempt. The hold I have over him -

LADY WINDERMERE.
(Rising.)
Ah! you admit you have a hold!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Yes, and I will tell you what it is. It is his love
for you, Lady Windermere.

LADY WINDERMERE. You expect me to believe that?

MRS. ERLYNNE. You must believe it! It is true. It is his love
for you that has made him submit to—oh! call it what you like,
tyranny, threats, anything you choose. But it is his love for you.
His desire to spare you—shame, yes, shame and disgrace.

LADY WINDERMERE. What do you mean? You are insolent! What have I
to do with you?

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(Humbly.)
Nothing. I know it—but I tell you that
your husband loves you—that you may never meet with such love
again in your whole life—that such love you will never meet—and
that if you throw it away, the day may come when you will starve
for love and it will not be given to you, beg for love and it will
be denied you—Oh! Arthur loves you!

LADY WINDERMERE. Arthur? And you tell me there is nothing between
you?

MRS. ERLYNNE. Lady Windermere, before Heaven your husband is
guiltless of all offence towards you! And I—I tell you that had
it ever occurred to me that such a monstrous suspicion would have
entered your mind, I would have died rather than have crossed your
life or his—oh! died, gladly died!
(Moves away to sofa R.)

LADY WINDERMERE. You talk as if you had a heart. Women like you
have no hearts. Heart is not in you. You are bought and sold.
(Sits L.C.)

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(Starts, with a gesture of pain. Then restrains
herself, and comes over to where LADY WINDERMERE is sitting. As
she speaks, she stretches out her hands towards her, but does not
dare to touch her.)
Believe what you choose about me. I am not
worth a moment's sorrow. But don't spoil your beautiful young life
on my account! You don't know what may be in store for you, unless
you leave this house at once. You don't know what it is to fall
into the pit, to be despised, mocked, abandoned, sneered at—to be
an outcast! to find the door shut against one, to have to creep in
by hideous byways, afraid every moment lest the mask should be
stripped from one's face, and all the while to hear the laughter,
the horrible laughter of the world, a thing more tragic than all
the tears the world has ever shed. You don't know what it is. One
pays for one's sin, and then one pays again, and all one's life one
pays. You must never know that.—As for me, if suffering be an
expiation, then at this moment I have expiated all my faults,
whatever they have been; for to-night you have made a heart in one
who had it not, made it and broken it.—But let that pass. I may
have wrecked my own life, but I will not let you wreck yours. You-
-why, you are a mere girl, you would be lost. You haven't got the
kind of brains that enables a woman to get back. You have neither
the wit nor the courage. You couldn't stand dishonour! No! Go
back, Lady Windermere, to the husband who loves you, whom you love.
You have a child, Lady Windermere. Go back to that child who even
now, in pain or in joy, may be calling to you.
(LADY WINDERMERE
rises.)
God gave you that child. He will require from you that
you make his life fine, that you watch over him. What answer will
you make to God if his life is ruined through you? Back to your
house, Lady Windermere—your husband loves you! He has never
swerved for a moment from the love he bears you. But even if he
had a thousand loves, you must stay with your child. If he was
harsh to you, you must stay with your child. If he ill-treated
you, you must stay with your child. If he abandoned you, your
place is with your child.

(LADY WINDERMERE bursts into tears and buries her face in her
hands.)

(Rushing to her.)
Lady Windermere!

LADY WINDERMERE.
(Holding out her hands to her, helplessly, as a
child might do.)
Take me home. Take me home.

MRS. ERLYNNE.
(Is about to embrace her. Then restrains herself.
There is a look of wonderful joy in her face.)
Come! Where is
your cloak?
(Getting it from sofa.)
Here. Put it on. Come at
once!

(They go to the door.)

LADY WINDERMERE. Stop! Don't you hear voices?

MRS. ERLYNNE. No, no! There was no one!

LADY WINDERMERE. Yes, there is! Listen! Oh! that is my husband's
voice! He is coming in! Save me! Oh, it's some plot! You have
sent for him.

(Voices outside.)

MRS. ERLYNNE. Silence! I'm here to save you, if I can. But I
fear it is too late! There!
(Points to the curtain across the
window.)
The first chance you have, slip out, if you ever get a
chance!

LADY WINDERMERE. But you?

MRS. ERLYNNE. Oh! never mind me. I'll face them.

(LADY WINDERMERE hides herself behind the curtain.)

LORD AUGUSTUS.
(Outside.)
Nonsense, dear Windermere, you must not
leave me!

MRS. ERLYNNE. Lord Augustus! Then it is I who am lost!
(Hesitates for a moment, then looks round and sees door R., and
exits through it.)

(Enter LORD DARLINGTON, MR. DUMBY, LORD WINDERMERE, LORD AUGUSTUS
LORTON, and MR. CECIL GRAHAM.)

DUMBY. What a nuisance their turning us out of the club at this
hour! It's only two o'clock.
(Sinks into a chair.)
The lively
part of the evening is only just beginning.
(Yawns and closes his
eyes.)

LORD WINDERMERE. It is very good of you, Lord Darlington, allowing
Augustus to force our company on you, but I'm afraid I can't stay
long.

LORD DARLINGTON. Really! I am so sorry! You'll take a cigar,
won't you?

LORD WINDERMERE. Thanks!
(Sits down.)

LORD AUGUSTUS.
(To LORD WINDERMERE.)
My dear boy, you must not
dream of going. I have a great deal to talk to you about, of
demmed importance, too.
(Sits down with him at L. table.)

CECIL GRAHAM. Oh! We all know what that is! Tuppy can't talk
about anything but Mrs. Erlynne.

LORD WINDERMERE. Well, that is no business of yours, is it, Cecil?

CECIL GRAHAM. None! That is why it interests me. My own business
always bores me to death. I prefer other people's.

LORD DARLINGTON. Have something to drink, you fellows. Cecil,
you'll have a whisky and soda?

CECIL GRAHAM. Thanks.
(Goes to table with LORD DARLINGTON.)
Mrs.
Erlynne looked very handsome to-night, didn't she?

LORD DARLINGTON. I am not one of her admirers.

CECIL GRAHAM. I usen't to be, but I am now. Why! she actually
made me introduce her to poor dear Aunt Caroline. I believe she is
going to lunch there.

LORD DARLINGTON.
(In Purple.)
No?

CECIL GRAHAM. She is, really.

LORD DARLINGTON. Excuse me, you fellows. I'm going away to-
morrow. And I have to write a few letters.
(Goes to writing table
and sits down.)

DUMBY. Clever woman, Mrs. Erlynne.

CECIL GRAHAM. Hallo, Dumby! I thought you were asleep.

DUMBY. I am, I usually am!

LORD AUGUSTUS. A very clever woman. Knows perfectly well what a
demmed fool I am—knows it as well as I do myself.

(CECIL GRAHAM comes towards him laughing.)

Ah, you may laugh, my boy, but it is a great thing to come across a
woman who thoroughly understands one.

DUMBY. It is an awfully dangerous thing. They always end by
marrying one.

CECIL GRAHAM. But I thought, Tuppy, you were never going to see
her again! Yes! you told me so yesterday evening at the club. You
said you'd heard -

(Whispering to him.)

LORD AUGUSTUS. Oh, she's explained that.

CECIL GRAHAM. And the Wiesbaden affair?

LORD AUGUSTUS. She's explained that too.

DUMBY. And her income, Tuppy? Has she explained that?

LORD AUGUSTUS.
(In a very serious voice.)
She's going to explain
that to-morrow.

(CECIL GRAHAM goes back to C. table.)

DUMBY. Awfully commercial, women nowadays. Our grandmothers threw
their caps over the mills, of course, but, by Jove, their
granddaughters only throw their caps over mills that can raise the
wind for them.

LORD AUGUSTUS. You want to make her out a wicked woman. She is
not!

CECIL GRAHAM. Oh! Wicked women bother one. Good women bore one.
That is the only difference between them.