Lady Windermere's Fan Read Free Page A

of that desk. I might find out by that. I
WILL find out.
(Opens drawer.)
No, it is some hideous mistake.
(Rises and goes C.)
Some silly scandal! He loves ME! He loves
ME! But why should I not look? I am his wife, I have a right to
look!
(Returns to bureau, takes out book and examines it page by
page, smiles and gives a sigh of relief.)
I knew it! there is not
a word of truth in this stupid story.
(Puts book back in dranver.
As the does so, starts and takes out another book.)
A second book-
-private—locked!
(Tries to open it, but fails. Sees paper knife
on bureau, and with it cuts cover from book. Begins to start at
the first page.)
'Mrs. Erlynne—600 pounds—Mrs. Erlynne—700
pounds—Mrs. Erlynne—400 pounds.' Oh! it is true! It is true!
How horrible!
(Throws book on floor.)
(Enter LORD WINDERMERE C.)
    LORD WINDERMERE. Well, dear, has the fan been sent home yet?
(Going R.C. Sees book.)
Margaret, you have cut open my bank book.
You have no right to do such a thing!
    LADY WINDERMERE. You think it wrong that you are found out, don't
you?
    LORD WINDERMERE. I think it wrong that a wife should spy on her
husband.
    LADY WINDERMERE. I did not spy on you. I never knew of this
woman's existence till half an hour ago. Some one who pitied me
was kind enough to tell me what every one in London knows already—
your daily visits to Curzon Street, your mad infatuation, the
monstrous sums of money you squander on this infamous woman!
(Crossing L.)
    LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret! don't talk like that of Mrs. Erlynne,
you don't know how unjust it is!
    LADY WINDERMERE.
(Turning to him.)
You are very jealous of Mrs.
Erlynne's honour. I wish you had been as jealous of mine.
    LORD WINDERMERE. Your honour is untouched, Margaret. You don't
think for a moment that—
(Puts book back into desk.)
    LADY WINDERMERE. I think that you spend your money strangely.
That is all. Oh, don't imagine I mind about the money. As far as
I am concerned, you may squander everything we have. But what I DO
mind is that you who have loved me, you who have taught me to love
you, should pass from the love that is given to the love that is
bought. Oh, it's horrible!
(Sits on sofa.)
And it is I who feel
degraded! YOU don't feel anything. I feel stained, utterly
stained. You can't realise how hideous the last six months seems
to me now—every kiss you have given me is tainted in my memory.
    LORD WINDERMERE.
(Crossing to her.)
Don't say that, Margaret. I
never loved any one in the whole world but you.
    LADY WINDERMERE.
(Rises.)
Who is this woman, then? Why do you
take a house for her?
    LORD WINDERMERE. I did not take a house for her.
    LADY WINDERMERE. You gave her the money to do it, which is the
same thing.
    LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, as far as I have known Mrs. Erlynne -
    LADY WINDERMERE. Is there a Mr. Erlynne—or is he a myth?
    LORD WINDERMERE. Her husband died many years ago. She is alone in
the world.
    LADY WINDERMERE. No relations?
(A pause.)
    LORD WINDERMERE. None.
    LADY WINDERMERE. Rather curious, isn't it?
(L.)
    LORD WINDERMERE.
(L.C.)
Margaret, I was saying to you—and I beg
you to listen to me—that as far as I have known Mrs. Erlynne, she
has conducted herself well. If years ago -
    LADY WINDERMERE. Oh!
(Crossing R.C.)
I don't want details about
her life!
    LORD WINDERMERE.
(C.)
I am not going to give you any details
about her life. I tell you simply this—Mrs. Erlynne was once
honoured, loved, respected. She was well born, she had position—
she lost everything—threw it away, if you like. That makes it all
the more bitter. Misfortunes one can endure—they come from
outside, they are accidents. But to suffer for one's own faults—
ah!—there is the sting of life. It was twenty years ago, too.
She was little more than a girl then. She had been a wife for even
less time than you have.
    LADY WINDERMERE. I am not interested in her—and—you should not
mention this woman and me in the same breath. It is an error of
taste.
(Sitting R. at desk.)
    LORD