Oscar Wilde

An Ideal Husband Oscar Wilde

The octagon room at Sir Robert Chiltern's house in Grosvenor Square.[The room is brilliantly lighted and full of guests. At the top of the staircase stands LADYCHILTERN, a woman of grave Greek beauty, about twenty-seven years of age. She receives theguests as they come up. Over the well of the staircase hangs a great chandelier with waxlights, which illumine a large eighteenth-century French tapestry-representing the Triumphof Love, from a design by Boucher-that is stretched on the staircase wall. On the right is theentrance to the music-room. The sound of a string quartette is faintly heard. The entrance onthe left leads to other reception-rooms. MRS. MARCHMONT and LADY BASILDON, two very prettywomen, are seated together on a Louis Seize sofa. They are types of exquisite fragility. Theiraffectation of manner has a delicate charm. Watteau would have loved to paint them.]MRS. MARCHMONT. Going on to the Hartlocks' to-night, Margaret?LADY BASILDON. I suppose so. Are you?MRS. MARCHMONT. Yes. Horribly tedious parties they give, don't they?LADY BASILDON. Horribly tedious! Never know why I go. Never know why I go anywhere. MRS. MARCHMONT. I come here to be educated. LADY BASILDON. Ah! I hate being educated!MRS. MARCHMONT. So do I. It puts one almost on a level with the commercial classes, doesn'tit? But dear Gertrude Chiltern is always telling me that I should have some serious purposein life. So I come here to try to find one. LADY BASILDON. [Looking round through her lorgnette.] I don't see anybody here to-nightwhom one could possibly call a serious purpose. The man who took me in to dinner talkedto me about his wife the whole time. MRS. MARCHMONT. How very trivial of him!LADY BASILDON. Terribly trivial! What did your man talk about?MRS. MARCHMONT. About myself. LADY BASILDON. [Languidly.] And were you interested?MRS. MARCHMONT. [Shaking her head.] Not in the smallest degree.4LADY BASILDON. What martyrs we are, dear Margaret!MRS. MARCHMONT. [Rising.] And how well it becomes us, Olivia![They rise and go towards the music-room. The VICOMTE DE NANJAC, a young attaché known forhis neckties and his Anglomania, approaches with a low bow, and enters into conversation.]MASON. [Announcing guests from the top of the staircase.] Mr. and Lady Jane Barford. LordCaversham.