 Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde. Fourth Act. Scene, same as in Act One. Lying on sofa. How can I tell him? I can't tell him. It would kill me. I wonder what happened after I escaped from that horrible room. Perhaps she told them the true reason of her being there, and the real meaning of that fatal fan of mine. Oh, if he knows, how can I look him in the face again? He would never forgive me. Touch his bell. How securely one thinks one lives, out of reach of temptation, sin, folly. And then suddenly, oh, life is terrible. It rules us. We do not rule it. Enter Rosalie, right. Did your ladyship ring for me? Yes. Have you found out at what time Lord Windermere came in last night? His lordship did not come in till five o'clock. Five o'clock? He knocked at my door this morning, didn't he? Yes, my lady, at half past nine. I told him your ladyship was not awake yet. Did he say anything? Something about your ladyship's fan. I didn't quite catch what his lordship said. Has the fan been lost, my lady? I can't find it, and Parker says it was not left in any of the rooms. He has looked in all of them, and on the terrace as well. It doesn't matter. Tell Parker not to trouble. That will do. Exit Rosalie. Rising. She's sure to tell him. A fancier person doing a wonderful act of self-sacrifice, doing it spontaneously, recklessly, nobly, and afterwards finding out that it cost too much. Why should she hesitate between her ruin and mine? How strange. I would have publicly disgraced her in my own house. She accepts public disgrace in the house of another to save me. There is a bitter irony in things. A bitter irony in the way we talk of good and bad women. Oh, what a lesson. And what a pity that in life we only get our lessons when they are of no use to us. For even if she doesn't tell, I must. Oh, the shame of it. The shame of it. To tell is to live through it all again. Actions are the first tragedy in life. Words are the second. Words are perhaps the worst. Words are merciless. Oh. Starts as Lord Windermere enters. Kisses her. Margaret, how pale you look. I slept very badly. Sitting on sofa with her. I am so sorry. I came in dreadfully late and didn't like to wake you. You are crying, dear. Yes, I am crying. For I have something to tell you, Arthur. My dear child, you are not well. You've been doing too much. Let us go away to the country. You'll be all right at Selby. The season is nearly over. There is no use staying on. Poor darling. We'll go away today, if you like. Risers. We can easily catch the 340. I'll send a wire to Fanon. Crosses and sits down at table to write a telegram. Yes, let us go away today. No, I can't go today, Arthur. There is someone I must see before I leave town. Someone who has been kind to me. Rising and leaning over sofa. Kind to you? Far more than that. Risers and goes to him. I will tell you, Arthur, but only love me. Love me as you used to love me. Used to? You are not thinking of that wretched woman who came here last night. Coming round and sitting right of her. You still don't imagine. No, you couldn't. I don't. I know now I was wrong and foolish. It was very good of you to receive her last night, but you are never to see her again. Why do you say that? Holding her hand. Margaret, I thought Mrs. Erlin was a woman more sinned against than sinning, as the phrase goes. I thought she wanted to be good, to get back into a place that she had lost by a moment's folly, to lead again a decent life. I believed what she told me. I was mistaken in her. She is bad. As bad as a woman can be. Arthur, Arthur, don't talk so bitterly about any woman. I don't think now that people can be divided into the good and bad, as though they were two separate races or creations. What are called good women may have terrible things in them. Mad moods of recklessness, assertion, jealousy, sin. Bad women, as they are termed, may have in them sorrow, repentance, pity, sacrifice. And I don't think Mrs. Erlin a bad woman. I know she is not. My dear child, the woman's impossible. No matter what harm she tries to do us, you must never see her again. She is inadmissible anywhere. But I want to see her. I want her to come here. Never! She came here once as your guest. She must come now as mine. That is but fair. She should never have come here. Rising. It is too late, Arthur, to say that now. Moves away. Rising. Margaret, if you knew where Mrs. Erlin went last night after she left this house, you would not sit in the same room with her. It was absolutely shameless, the whole thing. Arthur, I can't bear it any longer. I must tell you. Last night. Ends at Parker with a tray on which lie Lady Windermere's fan and a card. Mrs. Erlin has called to return your ladyship's fan, which she took away by mistake last night. Mrs. Erlin has written a message on the card. Oh, ask Mrs. Erlin to be kind enough to come up. Reads card. Say I shall be very glad to see her. Exit Parker. She wants to see me, Arthur. Takes card and looks at it. Margaret, I beg you not to. Let me see her first at any rate. She's a very dangerous woman. She's the most dangerous woman I know. You don't realize what you're doing. It is right that I should see her. My child, you may be on the brink of a great sorrow. Don't go to meet it. It is absolutely necessary that I should see her before you do. Why should it be necessary? Enter Parker. Mrs. Erlin. Enter Mrs. Erlin. Exit Parker. How do you do, Lady Windermere? To Lord Windermere. How do you do? Do you know, Lady Windermere, I am so sorry about your fan. I can't imagine how I made such a silly mistake. Most stupid of me. And as I was driving your direction, I thought I would take the opportunity of returning your property in person, with many apologies for my carelessness, and of bidding you goodbye. Goodbye? Moves towards sofa with Mrs. Erlin, and sits down beside her. Are you going away then, Mrs. Erlin? Yes, I am going to live abroad again. The English climate doesn't suit me. My heart is affected here, and that I don't like. I prefer living in the south. London is too full of fogs and— and serious people, Lord Windermere. Whether the fogs produce the serious people, or whether the serious people produce the fogs, I don't know. But the whole thing rather gets on my nerves, and— so I'm leaving this afternoon by the club train. This afternoon? But I wanted so much to come and see you. How kind of you. But I am afraid I have to go. Shall I never see you again, Mrs. Erlin? I am afraid not. Our lives lie too far apart. But there is a little thing I would like you to do for me. I want a photograph of you, Lady Windermere. Would you give me one? You don't know how gratified I should be. Oh, with pleasure. There is one on that table. I'll show it to you. Goes across to the table. Coming up to Mrs. Erlin and speaking in a low voice. It is monstrous you're intruding yourself here after your conduct last night. With an amused smile. My dear Windermere, manners before morals. Returning. I'm afraid it is very flattering. I am not so pretty as that. Showing photograph. You are much prettier. But haven't you got one of yourself with your little boy? I have. Would you prefer one of those? Yes. I'll go and get it for you if you'll excuse me for a moment. I have one upstairs. So sorry, Lady Windermere, to give you so much trouble. Moves the door. Right. No trouble at all, Mrs. Erlin. Thanks so much. Exit Lady Windermere, right. You seem rather out of temper this morning, Windermere. Why should you be? Margaret and I get uncharmingly together. I can't bear to see you with her. Besides, you have not told me the truth, Mrs. Erlin. I have not told her the truth, you mean. Standing centre. I sometimes wish you had. You should have been spared, then, the misery, the anxiety, the annoyance of the last six months. But rather than my wife should know that the mother whom she was taught to consider as dead, the mother whom she mourned as dead, is living, a divorced woman, going about under an assumed name, a bad woman praying upon life, as I know you now to be. Rather than that, I was ready to supply you with money to pay bill after bill, extravagance after extravagance, to risk what occurred yesterday, the first quarrel I have ever had with my wife. You don't understand what that means to me. How could you? I tell you that the only bitter words that ever came from those sweet lips of hers were on your account, and I hate to see you next to her. You sully the innocence that is in her. Moves, left centre. And then I used to think that with all your faults you were frank and honest. You are not. Why do you say that? Let me get you an invitation to my wife's ball. For my daughter's ball? Yes. You came and within an hour of your leaving the house you are found in a man's rooms. You are disgraced before everyone. Goes upstage, centre. Yes. Turning round on her. Therefore I have a right to look upon you as what you are, a worthless vicious woman. I have the right to tell you never to enter this house, never to attempt to come near my wife. My daughter, you mean? You have no right to claim her as your daughter. You left her. Abandon her when she was but a child in the cradle. Abandon her for your lover who abandoned you in turn. Rising. Do you count that to his credit, Lord Windmere, or to mine? To his, now that I know you. Take care. You had better be careful. Oh, I am not going to mince words for you. I know you thoroughly. Looks vividly at him. I question that. I do know you. For twenty years of your life you lived without your child, without a thought of your child. One day you read in the papers that she has married a rich man. That's all your hideous chance. You knew that to spare her the ignominy of learning that a woman like you was her mother, I would endure anything. You began your blackmailing. Shrugging her shoulders. Don't use ugly words, Windmere. They are vulgar. I saw my chance at his true and took it. Yes, you took it. And spoiled it all last night by being found out. With a strange smile. You are quite right. I spoiled it all last night. As for your blunder in taking my wife's van from here and then leaving it about in Darwin's rooms, it is unpardonable. I can't bear the sight of it now. I shall never let my wife use it again. That thing is soiled for me. You should have kept it and not brought it back. I think I shall keep it. Goes up. It's extremely pretty. Takes up fan. I shall ask Margaret to give it to me. I hope my wife will give it to you. Oh, I'm sure she will have no objection. I wish that at the same time she would give you a miniature she kisses every night before she prays. It's the miniature of a young innocent looking girl with beautiful dark hair. Ah, yes, I remember. How long ago that seems. Goes to sofa and sits down. It was done before I was married. Dark hair and an innocent expression were the fashion then, Windermere. What do you mean by coming here this morning? What is your object? Crossing left centre and sitting. To bid goodbye to my dear daughter, of course. Lord Windermere bites his underlip in anger. Mrs. Erlen looks at him and her voice and manner become serious. In her accents, as she talks, there is a note of deep tragedy. For a moment she reveals herself. Oh, don't imagine I am going to have a pathetic scene with her, weep on her neck and to tell her who I am and all that kind of thing. I have no ambition to play the part of a mother. Only once in my life have I known a mother's feelings. That was last night. They were terrible. They made me suffer. They made me suffer too much. For twenty years, as you say, I have lived childless. I want to live childless still. Hiding her feelings with a trivial laugh. Besides, my dear Windermere, how on earth could I pose as a mother with a grown-up daughter? Margaret is twenty-one, and I have never admitted that I am more than twenty-nine, or thirty at the most. Twenty-nine, when there are pink shades, thirty when there are not. So you see what difficulties it would involve? No. As far as I am concerned, let your wife cherish the memory of this dead, stainless mother. Why should I interfere with her illusions? I find it hard enough to keep my own. I lost one illusion last night. I thought I had no heart. I find I have. And a heart doesn't suit me, Windermere. Somehow it doesn't go with modern dress. It makes one look old. Takes up hand-mirror from table, and looks into it. And it spoils one's career at critical moments. You fill me with horror, with absolute horror. Rising. I suppose, Windermere, you would like me to retire into a convent, or become a hospital nurse or something of that kind, as people do in silly modern novels. That is stupid of you, Arthur. In real life we don't do such things. Not as long as we have any good looks left at any rate. No. What consoles one nowadays is not repentance, but pleasure. Repentance is quite out of date. And, besides, if a woman really repents, she has to go to a bad dressmaker, otherwise no one believes in her. And nothing in the world would induce me to do that. No. I am going to pass entirely out of your two lives. My coming into them has been a mistake. I discovered that last night. A fatal mistake. Smiling. Almost fatal. I am sorry now, I did not tell my wife the whole thing at once. I regret my bad actions. You regret your good ones. That is the difference between us. I don't trust you. I will tell my wife. It's better for her to know and from me. It will cause her infinite pain. It will humiliate her terribly, but it's right that she should know. You propose to tell her? I am going to tell her. Going up to him. If you do, I will make my name so infamous that it will mar every moment of her life. It will ruin her and make her wretched. If you dare to tell her there is no depth of degradation I will not sink to. No pit of shame I will not enter. You shall not tell her. I forbid you. Why? If I said to you that I cared for her. Perhaps loved her even. You would sneer at me, wouldn't you? I should feel it was not true. A mother's love means devotion, unselfishness, sacrifice. What could you know of such things? You were right. What could I know of such things? Don't let us talk any more about it. As for telling my daughter who I am, that I do not allow. It is my secret. It is not yours. If I make up my mind to tell her—and I think I will—I shall tell her before I leave the house. If not, I shall never tell her. Then let me beg of you to leave our house at once. I will make your excuses to Margaret. Enter Lady Windermere right. She goes over to Mrs. Erlen with the photograph in her hand. Lord Windermere moves to back of Sofa and anxiously watches Mrs. Erlen as the scene progresses. I am so sorry Mrs. Erlen to have kept you waiting. I couldn't find the photograph anywhere. At last I discovered it in my husband's dressing room. He had stolen it. Takes the photograph from her and looks at it. I am not surprised. It is charming. Goes over to Sofa with Lady Windermere and sits down beside her, looks again at the photograph. And so that is your little boy. What is he called? Gerard, after my dear father. Laying the photograph down. Really? Yes. If it had been a girl I would have called it after my mother. My mother had the same name as myself. Margaret. My name is Margaret too. Indeed. Yes. You are devoted to your mother's memory Lady Windermere. Your husband tells me. We all have ideals in life. At least we all should have. Mine is my mother. Ideals are dangerous things. Realities are better. They wound, but they're better. Shaking her head. If I lost my ideals I should lose everything. Everything? Yes. Did your father often speak to you of your mother? No. It gave him too much pain. He told me how my mother had died a few months after I was born. His eyes filled with tears as he spoke. Then he begged me never to mention her name to him again. It made him suffer even to hear it. My father. My father really died of a broken heart. His was the most ruined life I know. Rising. I am afraid I must go now, Lady Windermere. Rising. Oh, no, don't. I think I had better. My carriage must have come back by this time. I sent it to Lady Jedberg's with a note. Arthur, would you mind seeing if Mrs. Erlen's carriage has come back? Pray don't trouble, Lord Windermere. Yes, Arthur. Do go, please. Lord Windermere hesitated for a moment and looks at Mrs. Erlen. She remains quite impassive. He leaves the room. To Mrs. Erlen. Oh, what am I to say to you? You saved me last night. Goes towards her. Hush, don't speak of it. I must speak of it. I can't let you think I am going to accept the sacrifice. I am not. It is too great. I am going to tell my husband everything. It is my duty. It is not your duty. At least you have duties to others besides him. You say you owe me something. I owe you everything. Then pay your debt by silence. That is the only way in which it can be paid. Don't spoil the one good thing I have done in my life by telling it to anyone. Promise me that what passed last night will remain a secret between us. You must not bring misery into your husband's life. Why spoil his love? You must not spoil it. Love is easily killed. Oh, how easily love is killed. Pledge me your word, Lady Windermere, that you will never tell him. I insist upon it. With bowed head. It is your will, not mine. Yes, it is my will. And never forget your child. I like to think of you as a mother. I like you to think of yourself as one. Looking up. I always will now. Only once in my life I have forgotten my own mother. That was last night. Oh, if I had remembered her I should not have been so foolish, so wicked. With a slight shudder. Hush! Last night is quite over. Enter, Lord Windermere. Your carriage has not come back yet, Mrs. Irlyn. It makes no matter. I'll take a handsome. There is nothing in the world so respectable as a good Shroesery and Talbot. And now, dear Lady Windermere, I am afraid it really is good-bye. Moves up centre. Oh, I remember. You'll think me absurd, but do you know I've taken a great fancy to this fan that I was silly enough to run away with last night from your ball? Now, I wonder, would you give it to me? Lord Windermere says you may. I know it is his present. Oh, certainly. If it will give you any pleasure. But it has my name on it. It has Margaret on it. But we have the same Christian name. Oh, I forgot. Of course do have it. What a wonderful chance our names being the same. Quite wonderful. Thanks. It will always remind me of you. Shakes hands with her. Enter, Parker. Lord Augustus, Lorden. Mrs. Irlyn's carriage has come. Enter, Lord Augustus. Good morning, dear boy. Good morning, Lady Windermere. Seize, Mrs. Irlyn. Mrs. Irlyn? How do you do, Lord Augustus? Are you quite well this morning? Quite well. Thank you, Mrs. Irlyn. You don't look at all well, Lord Augustus. You stop up too late. It is so bad for you. You really should take more care of yourself. Goodbye, Lord Windermere. Goes towards door with a bow to Lord Augustus. Suddenly smiles and looks back at him. Lord Augustus, won't you see me to my carriage? You might carry the fan. Allow me. No, I want Lord Augustus. I have a special message for the dear Duchess. Won't you carry the fan, Lord Augustus? If you really desire it, Mrs. Irlyn. Of course I do. You'll carry it so gracefully. You would carry off anything gracefully, dear Lord Augustus. When she reaches the door, she looks back for a moment at Lady Windermere. Their eyes meet. Then she turns and exits centre, followed by Lord Augustus. You will never speak against Mrs. Irlyn again, Arthur, will you? She is better than one thought her. She is better than I am. Smiling as he strokes her hair. Child, you and she belong to different worlds. Into your world evil has never entered. Don't say that, Arthur. There is the same world for all of us, and good and evil, sin and innocence go through it hand in hand. To shut one's eyes to half of life that one may live securely is as though one blinded oneself that one might walk with more safety in a land of pit and precipice. Moves down with her. Darling, why do you say that? Sits on sofa. Because I, who had shut my eyes to life, came to the brink, and one who had separated us. We were never separated. We never must be again. Oh, Arthur, don't love me less, and I will trust you more. I will trust you absolutely. Let us go to Selby. In the rose garden at Selby the roses are white and red. Enter Lord Augustus centre. Arthur, she has explained everything. Lady Windermere looks horribly frightened at this. Lord Windermere starts. Lord Augustus takes Windermere by the arm and brings him to front of stage. He talks rapidly and in a low voice. Lady Windermere stands watching them in terror. My dear fellow, she had explained every damned thing. We all wronged her immensely. It was entirely for my sake she went to Darlington's rooms, called first at the club. Fact is, wanted to put me out of suspense. And being told I had gone, followed, naturally frightened when she heard a lot of us coming in. Retired to another room. I assure you, most gratifying to me, the whole thing. We all behaved brutally to her. She is just the woman for me. Suits me down to the ground. All the conditions she makes are that we live entirely out of England. A very good thing, too. Damned clubs, damned climate, damned cooks, damned everything. Sick of it all. Has Mrs. Erlin advancing towards her with a low bow? Yes, Lady Windermere. Mrs. Erlin has done me the honour of accepting my hand. Well, you are certainly marrying a very clever woman. Taking your husband's hand. Ah, you are marrying a very good woman. Curtain. End of Act 4. End of Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde. This recording is in the public domain.