All language subtitles for Rudolph_Cartier__An_Ideal_Husband_(BBC.1969).ENG

Have you got
my second buttonhole, Phipps?

- Yes, my lord.
- It's rather a distinguished thing, Phipps.

I'm the only person in London
of the smallest importance

- who wears a buttonhole.
- Yes, my lord, I have observed that.

You see, Phipps,
fashion is what one wears oneself.

What is unfashionable
is what other people wear.

- Yes, my lord.
- Other people are quite dreadful.

- The only possible society is oneself.
- Yes, my lord.

To be in love with oneself, Phipps,
is the beginning of a lifelong romance.

Yes, my lord.

I don't think I like this second
buttonhole. It makes me look a little old.

Makes me look
almost in the prime of life, eh, Phipps?

I observe no alteration
in your lordship's appearance.

- You don't?
- No, but I will speak to the florist.

She had a loss in her family lately.

It's an extraordinary thing
about the lower class in England,

they're always losing their relations.

Yes, my lord. They are extremely
fortunate in that respect.

I have been summoned to
one of Lady Chiltern's political parties,

where the bad politics are drowned
by even worse string quartets.

My commiserations, my lord.

Still, Miss Mabel, Sir Robert's sister,
might be there.

So she might, Phipps.

That is a small consolation.

Lord Caversham.

Dr and Mrs Andrew MacFarlane.

Good evening, Lady Chiltern.

Miss Chiltern. Has my good-for-nothing
young son been here?

No, Lord Caversham,
I don't think he's arrived yet.

Oh, thank you.

Why do you call him
"good-for-nothing"?

- Because he leads such an idle life.
- How can you say such a thing?

Lord Goring rides at
ten o'clock in the morning,

he goes to the opera three times a week,

changes his clothes
at least five times a day,

and dines out every night of the season.

You don't call that "leading an idle life"?

You're a very charming young lady.

Thank you very much, Lord Caversham.
Do come to us more often.

The Earl of Kettering
and Lady Kettering.

My dear, I never go anywhere,
I'm sick of London society.

I wouldn't mind being
introduced to my own tailor,

he votes on the right side.

But I object strongly to being
sent to dinner with my wife's milliner.

- I never could stand her bonnets.
- His Grace, the Duke of Sutton.

I love London society.
I think it's immensely improved.

It's composed of beautiful idiots
and brilliant lunatics.

Just what society should be.

And which is my son?
A beautiful idiot or the other thing?

I have been obliged, for the moment,
to put your son into a class by himself.

- He's developing charmingly.
- Into what?

Lady Basildon, Mrs Marchmont.

I hope to let you know
very soon, Lord Caversham.

- Lady Markby, Mrs Keith.
- Thank you, dear.

The right honourable James Stephens
and Mrs Stephens.

Good evening, dear Gertrude,

how very kind of you to allow me
to bring my friend, Mrs Cheveley.

Two such charming women
should know each other.

But Miss Cheveley and I
have met before.

I did not know
that she had married a second time.

Everybody marries as often
as they can nowadays.

It's most fashionable.
Dear duchess... how's the duke?

Brain still weak, I suppose?

But have we really met before,
Lady Chiltern?

I don't remember where
but I've been out of England for so long.

We were at school together,
Mrs Cheveley.

Indeed... I'd forgotten
all about my school days.

I have a vague impression
they were detestable.

I'm not surprised.

I'm quite looking forward to meeting
your clever husband.

Since he's been at the foreign office,
he's much talked of in Vienna.

I hardly think that you and my husband
will have much in common.

The Vicomte de Nanjac.

Ch�re madame, quelle surprise.
I have not seen you since Berlin.

Not since Berlin, five years ago.

You are looking younger
and more beautiful than ever.

- How do you manage it?
- By making it a rule

only to talk to charming people
like yourself.

- Madame, you flatter me.
- Mr and Mrs Harvey.

- Good evening, Lady Markby.
- Sir Robert.

I hope you've brought Sir John
with you?

I brought someone
much more charming than my husband.

Sir John's temper, since he's taken
seriously to politics, is quite unbearable.

And now that the House of Commons
is trying to be useful,

- it's doing a great deal of harm.
- I do hope not, Lady Markby.

At any rate, we do our best
to waste the public time, don't we?

But who is this charming person
that you've brought with you?

Her name is Mrs Cheveley.

One of the Dorsetshire Cheveleys,
I suppose.

I really don't know.
Families are so mixed nowadays.

Everybody turns out
to be somebody else.

Cheveley... I seem to know the name.

Yes, she's just arrived from Vienna.

Yes, I think I know whom you mean.

She goes everywhere there.

And she has such pleasant scandals
about her friends. Let me introduce you.

My dear, Sir Robert Chiltern
is dying to know you.

Everyone is dying to know
the brilliant Mrs Cheveley.

Our attach�s at Vienna write to us
about nothing else.

Thank you, Sir Robert.

An acquaintance that begins
with a compliment

is bound to turn into a real friendship.

It starts in the right manner.

- I find I know Lady Chiltern already.
- Really?

She's just reminded me
we were at school together.

I remember it perfectly now, she
always got the "good conduct" prize.

I have a distinct recollection of her
always getting the "good conduct" prize.

What prizes did you get, Mrs Cheveley?

My prizes came a little later in life.

I don't think any of them
were for good conduct. I forget.

I'm sure they were
for something charming.

I don't know that women
are always rewarded for being charming.

I think they're usually punished for it.

I fear I can hardly agree with you.
But do sit down.

Now, tell me, what makes you leave your
brilliant Vienna for our gloomy London?

Or perhaps the question is indiscreet.

Questions are never indiscreet.
Answers sometimes are.

At any rate,
may I know if it is politics or pleasure?

Oh, politics are my only pleasure.

You see nowadays,
it's not fashionable to flirt until one is 40,

or to be romantic until one is 45.

So we poor women who are...
under 40, or say that we are,

have nothing left to us
but politics or philanthropy.

I prefer politics.
I think they're more becoming.

A political life is a noble career.

Sometimes.
And sometimes it's a clever game.

And sometimes it's a great nuisance.

Which do you find it?

I? A combination of all three.

But you have not yet told me what
makes you honour London so suddenly?

- Our season is almost over.
- I don't care for your London season.

It's too matrimonial.

People are either hunting for husbands
or hiding from them. No, I...

I wanted to meet you...

Oh?

...and to ask you to do something for me.

I do hope it is not a little thing.
I find little things so very difficult to do.

No, I don't think it's quite a little thing.

Do tell me what it is.

Oh, later on.

Now, may I walk through
your beautiful house?

I hear your pictures are charming.
Poor Baron Arnheim...

you remember the baron?

He used to tell me that
you had some wonderful Corots.

His Excellency,
the Chilean ambassador.

Did you, er, know Baron Arnheim well?

Intimately. Did you?

- At one time, yes.
- Wonderful man, wasn't he?

He was very remarkable in many ways.

I always thought it such a pity
that he never wrote his memoirs.

They would have been most interesting.

Lord Goring.

Good evening, my dear Arthur.

Mrs Cheveley,
allow me to introduce to you

Lord Goring, the idlest man in London.

I have met Lord Goring before.

I didn't think you would remember.

My memory is under admirable control.

And are you still a bachelor?

- I believe so.
- How very romantic.

I'm not at all romantic,
I'm not old enough,

I leave romance to my seniors.
Are you staying in London long?

That depends partly on the weather,
partly on the cooking,

and partly on Sir Robert.

You're not going to plunge us
into a European war, I hope?

There's no danger at present.

Brigadier Sir George Green
and Lady Green.

- You're very late.
- Have you missed me?

- Awfully.
- I wish I had stayed away longer.

- I love being missed.
- How selfish.

Yes, I am selfish.

You always tell me of your bad qualities.

I've only told you half of them yet,
Miss Mabel.

- Are the others bad?
- Quite dreadful.

When I think of them at night,
I go to sleep at once.

I delight in bad qualities. I wouldn't
have you part with one of them.

How nice of you.
I want to ask you a question.

Who brought Mrs Cheveley?

I think Lady Markby brought her.
Why do you ask?

- I haven't seen her for years.
- What an absurd reason.

- All reasons are absurd.
- What sort of woman is she?

Hmm... She's a genius in the daytime,
and a beauty at night.

- I dislike her already.
- That shows your admirable good taste.

Mademoiselle, may I have the pleasure
of escorting you to the music room?

Delighted, Vicomte. Quite delighted.

- Aren't you coming to the music room?
- Not if there's any music.

The music is in German.
You wouldn't understand it.

Well, sir... What are you doing here?
Wasting your life as usual?

I can't make out how
you put up with London society.

The whole thing's gone to the dogs.

A lot of nobodies talking about nothing.

I love talking about nothing, Father.
It's all I know anything about.

Ah, Lady Basildon and Mrs Marchmont.

Are you here? I had no idea
you would come to a political party.

I adore them. They're the only place left
to us where nobody talks politics.

I see Lord Goring
is in the camp of the enemy.

I saw him talking to that Mrs Cheveley
when he came in.

Handsome woman, Mrs Cheveley.

Please, don't praise
other women in our presence.

You might wait for us to do that.

- I did wait.
- We are not going to praise her.

I hear she went to the opera on Monday
and told Tommy Trafford at supper,

that London society was entirely
made up of dowdies and dandies.

She's quite right, of course.

The men are all dowdies
and the ladies are all dandies.

Do you think that is really what
Mrs Cheveley meant?

Of course, a very sensible remark
of Mrs Cheveley to make.

Why are you talking about
Mrs Cheveley?

Everyone is talking about her.

Lord Goring says... What did you say
about Mrs Cheveley? Yes, I remember...

"A genius in daytime
and a beauty at night. "

What a horrid combination.

So terribly unnatural.

I like looking at geniuses
and listening to beautiful people.

How very morbid of you,
Mrs Marchmont.

Is it morbid to have a desire for food?
I have a desire for food.

- Will you give me some supper?
- With pleasure. Excusez-moi.

How horrid you've been.
You haven't talked to me tonight.

You ran off with a French child diplomat.

You might have followed.
Pursuit would be polite.

- I don't think I like you this evening.
- I like you immensely.

I wish you'd show it
in a more marked way.

Are you going to any of our country
houses before you leave England?

I can't stand your
English country house parties.

In England, people actually try
to be brilliant at breakfast.

Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.

No, my stay in England
really depends on you, Sir Robert.

- Seriously?
- Quite seriously.

I want to talk to you about...

the Argentine canal company, in fact.

What a tedious, practical subject
for you to talk about, Mrs Cheveley.

I like tedious, practical subjects.

but not tedious, practical people.
There's a difference.

I know that you're interested
in international canal schemes.

You were Lord Radley's secretary,
weren't you,

when the government bought
the Suez Canal shares?

Yes, but the Suez Canal
was a great and splendid undertaking.

It gave us direct route to India.
It had imperial value.

This Argentine scheme is
a commonplace stock exchange swindle.

A speculation, Sir Robert.

A brilliant, a daring speculation.

Believe me, Mrs Cheveley, it is a swindle.

Let us call things by their proper names.
It makes matters simpler.

We have all the information
about it at the Foreign Office.

In fact, I sent out a special commission
to inquire into the matter... privately.

They report...
that the works have hardly begun,

and as for the money already invested,

nobody seems to know
what has become of it.

I hope you've not invested in it.

I'm sure you're far too clever
to have done that.

I have invested very largely in it.

Who could have advised you
to do such a foolish thing?

Your old friend... and mine.

- Who?
- Baron Arnheim.

Ah, yes. I seem to remember
hearing at the time of his death

that he'd been mixed up
in the whole affair.

It was his last romance.
His last but one, to do him justice.

But you've not yet seen my Corots.
They're upstairs in the music room.

Corots seem to go with music,
don't they? May I show them to you?

I'm not in the mood, tonight.
I want to talk business.

Oh. I fear I have no advice to give you,
Mrs Cheveley,

except to interest yourself
in something less dangerous.

The success of the canal depends,
of course, on the attitude of England.

And I am going to lay
the report of the commissioners

before the House tomorrow night.

That you must not do.

In your own interests, Sir Robert,
to say nothing of mine,

you must not do that.

Oh, my. My own interest?

My dear Mrs Cheveley,
what do you mean?

Well, I will be quite frank with you.

I want you to withdraw the report that
you were going to lay before the House.

On the grounds that in your opinion,

the commissioners were prejudiced
or misinformed, or something.

And then I want you to say a few words

to the effect that the government
is going to reconsider the question,

and that in your opinion,
the canal, if completed,

would be of great international value.

You know the sort of thing ministers say
in cases of this kind.

A few ordinary platitudes will do.

Mrs Cheveley, you cannot be serious
in making me such a proposition.

- I am quite serious.
- Allow me to believe that you are not.

But I am. And if you do what I ask,
I will pay you very handsomely.

- Pay me?
- Yes.

I'm afraid I don't understand
what you mean.

Oh, how disappointing.

I came all the way from Vienna

in order that you should
thoroughly understand me.

I fear I don't.

Sir Robert, you are a man of the world.
You have your price, I suppose?

If you will allow me,
I will call your carriage for you.

Mrs Cheveley, you seem not to realise
that you are talking to a man...

To a man who laid
the foundation of his fortune

by selling to a stock exchange
speculator a cabinet secret.

What do you mean?

I mean that I know the origin
of your wealth and your career.

And I've got your letter, too.

What letter?

The letter you wrote to Baron Arnheim,
when you were Lord Radley's secretary,

telling the baron
to buy Suez Canal shares.

A letter written three days
before the government

announced its own purchase.

It is not true.

You thought the letter
had been destroyed?

How foolish of you.
It's in my possession.

The affair to which you allude
was no more than... a speculation.

The House of Commons
had not passed the bill.

- It might have been rejected.
- It was a swindle, Sir Robert.

Let us call things by their proper names.
It makes everything simpler.

And now... I am going
to sell you that letter.

And the price that I ask is your public
support of the Argentine scheme.

You made your fortune out of one canal,

you must help me and my friends
make ours out of another.

I cannot do what you ask.

You mean you cannot help doing it.

It's not for you to make terms
but for you to accept them.

- Supposing you refuse...
- What then?

What then? My dear Sir Robert,
you will be ruined, of course.

Scandals used to lend charm,
or at least interest, to a man.

But nowadays, they crush him.
And this is...

a very nasty scandal.
You could never survive it.

You'll be hounded out of public office.

Oh, and besides, why should you
sacrifice your whole future,

rather than deal diplomatically
with your enemy?

And for the moment, I am your enemy.
I admit it.

Years ago,
you did a clever, unscrupulous thing.

It was a great success.

You owe to it your fortune
and your position.

Now you've got to pay for it.

- What you ask is impossible.
- You must make it possible.

You know what
your English newspapers are like.

Think of the delight they'd have
in dragging you down.

You want me to withdraw the report,

and make a speech stating that I believe
there are possibilities in the scheme?

Those are my terms.

I will give you any sum
of money you want.

My dear Sir Robert,

even you are not rich enough
to buy back your past.

- I will not do what you ask. I will not!
- You must.

If you do not...

Wait, wait a moment.
What did you propose?

You said that you would...
give me back my letter, didn't you?

Yes, that is agreed. I will be in the ladies'
gallery tomorrow at half past eleven.

If, by that time, and you will have had
plenty of opportunity,

you have made a speech
in the terms that I wish,

I will hand you back your letter
with the prettiest thanks and the best...

or the most suitable compliment
I can think of.

I intend to deal quite fairly with you.

You must let me have time
to consider your proposal.

No, you must settle now.
I have to telegraph Vienna tonight.

What brought you into my life?!

Circumstances.

Don't go.

I consent.

The report shall be withdrawn.

I will arrange for questions
to be put to me on the subject.

Thank you. I knew we should come
to an amicable agreement.

I understood your nature from the first.

And now you can get me my carriage.

Englishmen always get romantic
after a meal. That bores me dreadfully.

Dear Mrs Cheveley,
I hope you've enjoyed yourself.

Sir Robert is most entertaining,
is he not?

Most entertaining.
I've enjoyed my talk with him immensely.

He's had an interesting
and brilliant career.

Also he's married a most admirable wife.

Oh, dear, I am too old myself to bother
about setting a good example

but I always admire people who do.

Now I must go, dear.
Shall I call for you tomorrow?

- Thank you.
- Good night, my dear.

- Good night, dear Gertrude.
- Good night, dear.

May I, Lady Markby?

You have a charming house,
Lady Chiltern.

I've spent a delightful evening.

It was so interesting
getting to know your husband.

Why did you wish to meet my husband,
Mrs Cheveley?

I wanted to interest him
in the Argentine canal scheme

of which I dare say you've heard.

I found him most susceptible...
susceptible to reason, I mean.

I convinced him in ten minutes.

He's making a speech in the House
tomorrow in favour of the scheme.

We must go to the ladies' gallery
and hear him.

- It'll be a great occasion.
- There must be some mistake.

That scheme could never
have my husband's support.

I assure you it's settled. And now, I don't
regret my tedious journey from Vienna.

But, of course, for the next 24 hours,
the whole thing must be a dead secret.

A secret? Between whom?

Between your husband and myself.

Your carriage is here.

Thank you. Good evening, Lady Chiltern.

Good night, Lord Goring.

I am at Claridge's.
Do you think you might leave a card?

- If you wish, Mrs Cheveley.
- Don't look so solemn about it.

I may be obliged to leave a card on you.

Sir Robert,
will you take me to my carriage?

Now that we have both
the same interests at heart,

we shall be the best of friends.

- What a horrid woman.
- Miss Mabel, you should go to bed.

Lord Goring!

My father told me to go to bed
half an hour ago.

I always pass on advice.
It's the only thing to do with it.

- It's never the slightest use to oneself.
- Lord Goring!

You're always ordering me out of
the room. It's most courageous of you.

Especially since
I don't intend to go to bed for hours.

- What's this?
- I wonder who dropped it.

What a beautiful brooch!

- It is a bracelet.
- It isn't a bracelet. It's a brooch.

It can be used as a bracelet.

- Whoosh!
- What are you doing?

I'm going to make rather
a strange request to you.

Oh, pray do.
I've been waiting for it all evening.

Don't tell anyone
that I've taken charge of this bracelet.

And if anyone should claim it,
let me know at once.

That is a strange request.

You see,
I gave it to someone many years ago.

- You did?
- Yes.

Then I shall certainly bid you good night.

- Good night, Gertrude.
- Good night, my dear.

Did you see whom Lady Markby
brought?

Yes, what did she come here for?

Apparently to try and lure Robert
to uphold some fraudulent scheme.

I fancy she came to grief
if she tried to lure Robert into her coils.

It is extraordinary what mistakes
clever women make.

I don't call women of that kind clever.

- I call them stupid.
- Same thing, often.

- Good night, Lady Chiltern.
- Good night.

Dear Arthur, you're not leaving?
Do stop a little.

- I want to talk to you.
- I'm afraid I can't.

I promised I'd pop in to the Hartlocks'.

I believe they have got
a mauve Hungarian band

that plays mauve Hungarian music.
I'll see you tomorrow, goodbye.

How beautiful you look tonight,
Gertrude.

Help me undo my dress.

Robert... It isn't true, is it?

You're not going to lend your support
to this... this Argentine speculation?

Who told you that I intended to do so?

That woman...
Mrs Cheveley as she calls herself.

She seemed to taunt me with it.

Robert, I know this woman.

We were at school together. I despised
her. She was sent away for being a thief.

Mrs Cheveley may have
changed since then.

No one should be judged
entirely by their past.

One's past is what one is. It is the only
way people should be judged.

- That is a hard saying, Gertrude.
- It is a true saying, Robert.

What did she mean by boasting that
she had got you to lend your support,

to a thing that I have heard you describe
as a most dishonest scheme?

I was mistaken in the view I took,
that's all. We all may make mistakes.

But, Robert, you told me yesterday

that you had had the report
from the commission

and that it condemned the whole thing.

I have reason to believe it was
prejudiced. Or at any rate, misinformed.

Robert, are you telling me
the whole truth?

Why do you ask such a question?

Why do you not answer it?

Gertrude, truth is a very complex thing
and politics a very complex business.

There are wheels within wheels.

One may be under obligations
to people that one must pay.

Sooner or later in the political life
one has to compromise. Everyone does.

Compromise? Robert, you?

It is necessary. Vitally necessary.

It can never be necessary
to do what is not honourable.

Gertrude!

Robert, to the world, as to myself,
you have been an ideal always.

We women worship when we love.
Don't kill my love for you.

Don't kill that.

Is there in your life
any secret disgrace or dishonour?

Tell me. Tell me at once that...

- That what?
- That our lives may drift apart.

Drift apart?

It would be better for us both.

Gertrude!

There is nothing in my past life
that you might not know.

Oh, I was sure of it, Robert.

But why did you say
those dreadful things?

Things so unlike your real self.

Let us talk no more of the matter.

You will write to Mrs Cheveley
and tell her

that you cannot support this scheme?

If you have given her any promise
then you must take it back.

- Now, this moment.
- But it's so late.

That makes no matter. Write here.

She must know at once
that she has been mistaken in you.

That you are not a man
to do anything base or underhand.

Write, that you...

that you decline to support
this scheme of hers

as you hold it to be... dishonest.

Yes, write the word "dishonest".

She knows what that word means.

Yes, that will do. Now, the envelope.

Have this letter sent at once
to Claridge's hotel. There is no answer.

Oh, Robert, I feel tonight
that I have saved you from something.

You have brought into the political life
of our time a nobler atmosphere.

I know it. And for that I love you, Robert.

Oh.

Love me always, Gertrude.

- Love me always.
- I will always love you.

Because you will always
be worthy of my love.

We needs must love the highest
when we see it.

My dear Robert, it's a very awkward
business. Very awkward, indeed.

But you should have told
your wife the whole thing.

No man should have
a secret from his own wife.

- She invariably finds it out.
- Arthur, I couldn't tell my wife.

I would have lost the love
of the one woman in the world I worship.

She would have turned from me
in horror and contempt.

After all, whom did I wrong
by what I did?

- No one.
- Except yourself, Robert.

Arthur, I was 22 at the time. Do you
think it fair that a man's whole career

should be ruined for a fault
done in his boyhood almost?

Life is never fair. And perhaps for
most of us, it is just as well that it is not.

I had the double misfortune
of being well-born and poor.

Every man of ambition has to fight
his century with its own weapons.

The god of this century is wealth.
At all costs, one must have wealth.

You could have succeeded without it.

I wanted my success when I was young.
I couldn't wait.

How could you sell yourself for money?

I bought success at a great price.
That is all.

But what first made you
think of doing such a thing?

Baron Arnheim.

Damned scoundrel!

No, no...

a man of culture, charm, and distinction.

One of the most intellectual men
I have ever met.

I prefer a gentlemanly fool any day.

There's far more to be said for stupidity
than people imagine.

But how did he do it?

One night after dinner, at Lord Radley's,

the baron began talking about success
in modern life.

In that wonderfully fascinating,
quiet voice of his,

he expounded to us
the most terrible of all philosophies...

the philosophy of power.

Luxury, he said, was only a background.

And power - power over other men,
power over the world...

was the supreme pleasure,
the joy one never tired of

and only the rich possessed it.

I think he saw the effect
that he produced on me

for he said that if ever I could give him
any private information of real value,

he would make me a very rich man.

I was dazed at the prospect
he held out to me.

Six weeks later, certain private
documents passed through my hands.

- State documents?
- Yes.

Oh, my dear Robert. I had no idea
that you could be so weak!

Weak?!

Do you really think it is weakness
that yields to temptation?

There are terrible temptations
that require a terrible strength to yield to.

I had that strength.

I sat down and wrote Baron Arnheim
the letter that this woman now holds.

He made three-quarters of a million
over the transaction.

- And you?
- I received from the baron �110,000.

You were worth more, Robert.

In five years, I had trebled my fortune.
Everything I touched turned to success.

I remember reading somewhere

that when the gods wish to punish us,
they answer our prayers.

Did you never suffer any regret
for what you had done?

No!

But I have paid conscience money
since then.

I had the wild hope that I might...
disarm destiny.

The sum that Baron Arnheim paid me
I have distributed in public charities

twice over since then.

Public charities! My dear Robert,

- what a lot of harm you have done.
- Don't talk like that.

Forget what I say.

I will do everything I can to help.
You know that.

Thank you, Arthur.

What is to be done?

The English are very fond of a man
who admits that he's in the wrong.

It's one of the best things in them.

However, a confession
in your case would not do.

The money, if you will allow me
to say so, is awkward.

You must begin by telling your wife
the whole thing.

I couldn't do it.

And now this Mrs Cheveley,
how can I defend myself against her?

- You knew her before, Arthur?
- Yes.

- Well?
- So little that I got engaged to her.

Why was it broken off?

I forget. At least it doesn't matter.

She was confoundedly fond of money.
Have you tried her with money?

I offered her any sum she wanted.
She refused.

The marvellous gospel of gold
breaks down sometime.

Robert, you must fight her.

- But how?
- I haven't the slightest idea.

But every person has some weak point.

I shall send a telegram... a cipher
telegram to the embassy in Vienna,

to enquire if anything
is known against her.

It is always worthwhile
asking a question.

Though it is not always
worthwhile answering one.

She must have had some curious hold
over Baron Arnheim.

- I wonder what it was.
- Yes, I wonder.

- Is Mr Trafford in his room?
- Yes, Sir Robert.

Tell him to have this sent off
in cipher at once.

There's not a moment to be lost.

Yes, Sir Robert.

- Good afternoon, Lord Goring.
- Good afternoon, where have you been?

I've just come from
the Woman's Liberal Association,

where, Robert, your name
was received with loud applause.

Now I've come in to have my tea.
You will wait for tea?

- For a little.
- I'm just going to take my hat off.

No, please don't! It is so pretty.

It is one of the prettiest hats
that I have ever seen.

I hope the Woman's Liberal Association
greeted it with loud applause.

We have much more
important work to do

than look at each other's bonnets,
Lord Goring.

You've been a good friend to me, Arthur.

You've enabled me to tell you the truth.
That is something.

The truth is something
I always get rid of as quickly as possible.

This truth... has always stifled me.

- I'll see you soon again?
- Certainly, whenever you like.

- You're not going, Robert?
- I have some letters to write, dear.

- You work too hard. You look tired.
- It's nothing.

Do sit down. I'm so glad you've called.
I want to talk to you about...

Well, not about bonnets,

or the Woman's Liberal Association.

You want to talk to me about...

- Mrs Cheveley.
- Yes, you've guessed it.

After you left last night, I found out
that what she had said was really true.

I made Robert write her a letter
at once withdrawing his promise.

So he gave me to understand.

To have kept it would have been
the first stain

on a career which has been stainless.

Robert must be above reproach.
He's not like other men.

He cannot afford to
do what other men do.

Don't you agree with me?
You're Robert's greatest friend.

No one except myself
knows him better than you do.

He has no secrets from me
and I don't think he has any from you.

He certainly has no secrets from me.
At least, I don't think so.

Er... Lady Chiltern,
I have often thought that, perhaps,

that you were just a little too unbending
in your views on life.

I think sometimes
you don't make sufficient allowances.

Now supposing, for instance,
that any public man, my father,

or Lord Merton, or Robert, say,

had years ago written some
foolish letter to someone...

What sort of foolish letter?

One gravely compromising
one's position.

I am only taking an imaginary case.

Robert is as incapable of doing a foolish
thing as he is of doing a wrong thing.

No one is incapable
of doing a foolish thing.

Lady Chiltern, if ever you are in trouble,

trust me absolutely,
and I will do everything that I can to help.

If you want me, ask for my assistance

- and you shall have it.
- Lord Goring, you're talking seriously.

I've never heard you talk like that before.

You must excuse me. I promise you
that I will never let it occur again.

But I like you to be serious!

Gertrude, don't say such dreadful things
to Lord Goring.

Seriousness would be
very unbecoming to him.

Good afternoon, Lord Goring.
Pray, be as trivial as you can.

I'm afraid I'm out of practice
this afternoon.

And I was on the point of leaving.

Just when I've come in?
What dreadful manners.

- I'm sure you were badly brought up.
- I was.

- I wish I'd brought you up.
- I'm so sorry that you didn't.

- It's too late now, I suppose.
- I'm not so sure.

- Will you ride tomorrow?
- Yes, at ten.

- Don't forget.
- Of course, I won't.

Lady Chiltern, there is no list of your
guests in the Morning Post of today.

It has been crowded out
by the county council

or the Lambeth Conference
or something equally boring.

Could I have a list?
I have a reason for asking.

- Mr Trafford can give you one.
- Thank you.

Tommy Trafford is the most
useful person in London.

- And who is the most ornamental?
- I am.

How clever of you to guess it.

Goodbye, Lady Chiltern. You will
remember what I said, won't you?

Yes, but I don't know why you said it.

I hardly know myself.
Goodbye, Miss Mabel.

Gertrude, I wish you would talk
to Tommy Trafford.

What has poor Mr Trafford done
this time?

Robert says he's the best secretary
he ever had.

Tommy's proposed to me again.

Yes, really!
Tommy does nothing but propose to me.

He proposed this morning
in broad daylight,

in front of that dreadful statue
of Achilles.

The things that go on in front
of that work of art are appalling.

The police should interfere.

If he proposed at the top of his voice,
I wouldn't mind.

That might have some effect
on the public.

But he does it in this horrid,
confidential way, like a doctor.

I wish, Gertrude, you would talk to him.

Tell him once a week is quite often
enough to propose to anyone

and it should be done in a manner
that attracts some attention.

Dear Mabel, don't talk like that.

Robert thinks very highly of Mr Trafford.

He believes he has
a brilliant future before him.

I wouldn't marry a man
with a future before him for anything.

- Mabel.
- I know you married a man with a future.

But you see my brother's a genius,

and you have
a noble, self-sacrificing character.

I've got to go round now
to Lady Basildon's.

Remember we're giving
a charity performance?

I've got to act the triumph of something.
I only hope it's the triumph of me.

The only triumph I'm really
interested in at the moment.

Gertrude, do you know
who is coming to see you?

That dreadful Mrs Cheveley
in a lovely gown. Did you ask her?

Mrs Cheveley, coming to see me?
Impossible.

She's crossing the hall as large as life...
and not nearly so natural.

You need not wait, Mabel.
Lady Basildon is expecting you.

I've got to stand on my head
for charity, haven't I?

Lady Markby, Mrs Cheveley.

Dear Gertrude.

We just called to know if Mrs Cheveley's
diamond brooch had been found.

Here?

I missed it when I got back to Claridge's.
I thought I might have dropped it here.

I've heard nothing
but I'll ring for the butler.

Don't trouble him.

I dare say I lost it at the opera
before we came here.

The fact is we all scrabble and jostle
so much these days,

I wonder we have anything left on us
by the end of the evening.

What sort or brooch was it
that you've lost, Mrs Cheveley?

A diamond snake brooch with rubies,
rather large rubies.

Has a ruby and diamond brooch been
found in any of the rooms, Mason?

No, my lady.

It's of no consequence, Lady Chiltern.

I am so sorry to put you
to any inconvenience.

It has been of no inconvenience.
That will do, Mason. You can bring tea.

I must say it's most annoying
to lose anything.

I remember once at Bath, years ago,

losing in the pump room a handsome
bracelet my husband had given me.

I don't think
he's given me anything since.

- Some tea, Mrs Cheveley?
- Thank you.

- Some tea, Lady Markby?
- No, thank you, dear.

I've promised to make another call.
I will leave Mrs Cheveley in your charge

- and call back for her later.
- Certainly, dear.

I'd be glad of some conversation
with Mrs Cheveley.

Why, thank you, Lady Chiltern.
Nothing would give me greater pleasure.

No doubt you have happy memories of
your school days to talk over together.

Goodbye, dear.
Shall I see you at Lady Bonner's tonight?

I'm told she's discovered
a wonderful new genius.

He does nothing at all, I believe,
and that's a great comfort, is it not?

Wonderful woman, Lady Markby.

She talks more and says less
than anyone I've ever met.

She was made to be a public speaker.

Mrs Cheveley, I think it right
to tell you quite frankly

that had I known who you really were

I should not have invited you
to my house last night.

- Really?
- I could not have done so.

I see, Gertrude, that after all these years,
you've not changed a bit.

- I never change.
- Then life has taught you nothing.

It has taught me that when a person
has once been guilty

of a dishonest and dishonourable action,
they may be guilty of it a second time,

and should be shunned.

Would you apply
that rule to everyone?

Yes, to everyone. Without exception.

Then I am very sorry for you, Gertrude.

So you see now I'm sure
that for many reasons

any further acquaintance between us
during your stay in London

is quite impossible.

Do you know, Gertrude,

I don't mind your
talking morality to me a bit.

Morality is merely an attitude we adopt
towards people we personally dislike.

You dislike me. I'm quite aware of that.

And I've always detested you.

And yet, I've come here today
to do you a service.

Like the service you wished
to render my husband last night?

Thank heavens, I saved him from that.

So you made him write that insolent
letter to break his promise?

- Yes.
- Then, you must make him keep it.

I will give you until
tomorrow morning, no more.

If by then, your husband doesn't bind
himself to help in this great scheme...

- This fraudulent speculation.
- Call it what you choose.

I hold your husband
in the palm of my hand.

If you're wise,
you'll make him do what I say.

You are impertinent! What has my
husband to do with a woman like you?

Oh... In this world, like meets like.

It's because your husband is himself
fraudulent and dishonest

that we pair so well together.

Between you and him there are chasms.

He and I are closer than friends -
we're enemies linked together.

The same sin binds us.

How dare you class yourself
with my husband! Leave my house.

Your house?

A house everything in which
was paid for by fraud.

Ask him what the origin of his fortune is.

Get him to tell you how he sold
to a stockbroker, a cabinet secret.

Learn from him to what
you owe your position.

It's not true. Robert, it's not true?

Look at him. Can he deny it?

Go!

Go at once.

I've not finished with you.
With either of you.

I shall give you until tomorrow at noon.

If by then, you don't do
what I bid you to do,

then the whole world shall know
the origin of Robert Chiltern.

Show Mrs Cheveley out.

You sold a cabinet secret for money?

You started your life with fraud?

What this woman says is... quite true.

- But Gertrude...
- Don't come near me! Don't touch me!

- Gertrude...
- Don't speak! Say nothing!

Oh, how I worshipped you.

You were to me something
apart from common life,

a thing pure, noble, honest without stain.

The world seemed to me
a finer place because you were in it.

And now... Oh, when I think
I made a man like you my ideal.

- The ideal of my life.
- Hmph!

There was your mistake.

Why... can't you women love us,
faults and all?

It is not the perfect
but the imperfect who have need of love.

It is when we are wounded
by our own hands

that love should come to cure us,
else what use is love?

You made your false idol of me.

And I had not the courage to come down
and show you my wounds,

tell you my weaknesses.

I was afraid that I might lose your love.
As I have lost it now.

And so... last night
you ruined my life for me.

What this woman asked of me was
nothing compared to what she offered -

she offered security, peace, stability.

The sin of my youth
that I had thought was buried

rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible.

I could have killed it forever
but you prevented me. No one but you!

And now, what is there before me
but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame?

The mockery of the world!

Let women make no more ideals of men!

Or they will... ruin other lives
as completely as you -

who I have so wildly loved -
have ruined mine!

- Any letters for me, Phipps?
- Three, my lord.

- I want my cab round at once, please.
- Yes, my lord.

Phipps, when did this letter arrive?

By hand,
after your lordship went to the club.

That will do, Phipps.

Lady Chiltern's writing,
on Lady Chiltern's pink note paper.

"I want you.

"I trust you.

"I am coming to you. Gertrude. "

Oh, poor woman.
She's found out everything.

Good evening, Phipps.

Lord Caversham!

Why will parents always appear
at the wrong moment?

It must be some extraordinary
mistake in nature.

My dear Father, delighted to see you!

- Take my coat off.
- Is it worthwhile?

Of course, it's worthwhile. Take it off.

Now, which is
the most comfortable chair?

That one, Father. That is the one I use
when I have visitors.

Thank you. There's, er, no draught
in this room, I hope?

Of course, Father, there's no draught!

- I want to have a serious conversation.
- But, Father, it is after seven.

My doctor says that I must not have
a serious conversation after seven.

- It makes me talk in my sleep.
- Talk in your sleep?

What does that matter?
You're not married.

No, Father, I'm not married.

That is what I've come
to talk to you about.

- Yes, I was afraid of that.
- It's high time you were married.

- You're 34 years of age.
- But I only admit to 32.

31 and a half when I have
a really good buttonhole.

You're 34, I tell you.

And there is a draught in this room,
which makes your conduct worse.

Why did you tell me there's no draught?

I can feel a draught.
I can feel it distinctly.

You're right, Father. A dreadful draught.

I will see you tomorrow
and we can discuss this.

No, no, I came here with...

Came here with a very definite purpose
and I intend to...

I intend to see it through.
Now put down my coat.

Let us go into the smoking room.
Your sneezes are quite heartrending.

I suppose I still have
the right to sneeze when I choose?

Quite so.
I was only expressing sympathy.

Do you always really understand
what you're saying?

Yes, if I listen attentively.

"If you listen attentively. "
You conceited young puppy.

Ah, Phipps...

There is a lady coming to see me
tonight on particular business.

When she arrives,
show her into the drawing room.

- Yes, my lord.
- No one else is to be admitted.

- I understand, my lord.
- It is of great importance.

Yes, my lord.

That will be the lady.

Well, sir?
Am I to wait attendance on you, sir?

Father, do excuse me one moment.
Remember, Phipps - into that room.

- Yes, my lord.
- Father...

Is Lord Goring not here?
I was told he was at home.

His lordship is engaged at present
with Lord Caversham, madam.

How very filial.

His lordship told me to ask you, madam,

if you would be so kind
as to wait in the drawing room.

- His lordship will see you there.
- Lord Goring expects me?

- Yes, madam.
- Are you quite sure?

His lordship told me that if a lady called,

I was to ask her to wait
in the drawing room.

His lordship's instructions
on the subject were very precise.

How thoughtful.
To expect the unexpected

shows a thoroughly modern intellect.

Oh, how dreary a bachelor's
drawing room always looks.

I must alter all this.
Oh, no, I don't care for that lamp.

It's far too glaring. Light some candles.

- Certainly, madam.
- I hope they have becoming shades.

We have had no complaints
about them, madam. As yet.

"I want you. I trust you.

"I am coming to you. Gertrude... "?

"I want you...
I trust you. I am coming to you. "

The candles in the drawing room are lit,
as you directed.

Thank you.

My dear Father, if I am to get married

surely, I may be allowed to choose
the time, the place and the person.

- Particularly, the person.
- That is for me.

You would probably
make a very poor choice.

It is I who must be consulted, not you.

There is property at stake.
It's not a question of affection.

Affection comes later on in married life.

In married life, affection comes when
people thoroughly dislike each other.

Certainly... I mean, certainly not!

You are talking very foolishly tonight.

I say marriage is a matter
for common sense.

So my mother tells me.

My dear Arthur, what a piece of luck.
Your servant said you were not at home.

The fact is I am very busy this evening.
I asked that no one should be admitted.

Even my father had
a comparatively cold reception.

He's been complaining of a draught.

And not without reason, sir!
Good evening.

Oh... Arthur, you must be at home to me.

You're my best friend... perhaps
by tomorrow you'll be my only friend.

- My wife has discovered everything.
- I guessed as much.

- Really, how?
- Merely by the expression on your face.

- Who told her?
- Mrs Cheveley, herself.

I would to God I had died
before I had been so tempted.

Have you heard from Vienna
about your wire?

- Yes, I got a telegram tonight.
- Well?

Nothing is known against her.

On the contrary,
she occupies a high position in society.

It is an open secret that Baron Arnheim
left her the greater portion of his fortune.

- Apart from that, I could learn nothing.
- So she isn't a spy then?

Spies are of no use nowadays.
The newspapers do their work instead.

Arthur, I'm parched with thirst.

May I ring for something?
Some hock and seltzer?

- Certainly, allow me.
- Thanks.

Arthur, I don't know what to do.

- I can trust you absolutely, can't I?
- My dear Robert, of course.

Ah, Phipps,
some hock and seltzer, please.

Yes, my lord.

Will you forgive me
while I give my servant some directions?

When that woman arrives,
I am not at home to anyone, understand?

But the lady is in the drawing room,
my lord.

You told me to show her in there.

- You did quite right.
- Thank you.

Arthur, tell me what I should do. My life
seems to have crumbled about me.

Robert, you love your wife, don't you?

I love her more
than anything else in the world.

I used to think ambition the great thing.
It's not.

Love is the great thing.
There is nothing but love.

And I love her.

But she's found me out.
She's found me out.

But has she never committed
some indiscretion,

that she should not forgive your sin?

My wife? Never! She doesn't know
what weakness or temptation is.

Your wife will forgive you, Robert.

Maybe at this moment she is forgiving
you. Why should she not forgive?

God grant it.

Thank you, Phipps.

- Hock and seltzer, sir.
- Thank you.

- Robert, did you come in your carriage?
- No. I walked from the club.

- Sir Robert will take my cab, Phipps.
- Yes, my lord.

You will forgive me if I send you away?

You must let me stay for five minutes.

I... I have made up my mind what
I'm going to do in the House tonight.

The debate on the Argentine canal
is to begin at eleven.

- What was that?
- Nothing.

I heard something in the next room.
Someone's listening.

- No, there's no one there.
- There is someone there.

There are lights in the room.

- What does this mean?
- You are unnerved.

There is nobody in that room.

- Do you give me your word?
- Yes.

- Your word of honour?
- Yes.

- Let me see for myself.
- No. No!

If there is no one there
why should I not look?

I tell you there is nobody in that room.

- That is enough.
- It is not enough!

For God's sake, there is somebody
in that room, you must not see.

- I thought so.
- I forbid you to enter!

I will know who it is.

What explanation have you
for the presence of that woman here?

I swear to you, that woman is guiltless
and stainless of all offences toward you.

- She is a vile, infamous thing!
- Don't say such a thing.

She came here for you. She loves you.

What have I to do
with her intrigues with you?

Let her remain your mistress.
You are well suited to each other.

Robert, before heaven, it is not true!

Let me pass.

You have sworn enough
upon your "word of honour".

- Good evening, Lord Goring.
- Mrs Cheveley?

Good heavens. What are you doing
in my drawing room?

Merely listening.

I have a passion
for listening through keyholes.

One hears such
wonderful things through them.

Isn't that like tempting Providence?

Surely Providence
can resist temptation by this time.

I am glad you have called. I am going
to give you some good advice.

Oh, pray, don't. Never give a woman
anything she can't wear in the evening.

I see that you are still as wilful as ever.

Far more. I've greatly improved.
I've had more experience.

Too much experience is a dangerous
thing. Oh, pray, have a cigarette.

Half the pretty women in London
are smoking cigarettes.

But I prefer the other half.

Thank you. I never smoke.
My dressmaker wouldn't like it.

A woman's first duty in life
is to her dressmaker, isn't it?

What her second duty is...
no one has ever yet discovered.

You have come to sell me
Robert Chiltern's letter.

To offer it to you on condition.
How did you guess that?

Because you haven't mentioned
the subject. Have you got it with you?

Oh, no.
A well-made dress has no pockets.

What is your price for it?

How absurdly English you are.

The English always think a chequebook
can answer every problem in life.

My dear Arthur. I have very much more
money than you have,

and just as much as Robert Chiltern
has managed to get hold of.

Money is not what I want.

What do you want, Mrs Cheveley?

Why don't you call me Laura?

- I don't like the name.
- You used to adore it.

Yes. That's why.

Arthur...

- You loved me once.
- Yes.

And you asked me to be your wife.

That was the natural result
of my loving you.

And you threw me over,
because you saw... or said you saw...

poor Lord Mortlake trying
to have a violent flirtation with me

in the conservatory.

I am under the impression
that was settled with my lawyer,

on certain terms dictated by yourself.

- I was poor and you were rich.
- Quite so.

- That is why you pretended to love me.
- You were silly.

Lord Mortlake was never
more to me than amusement.

- I loved you, Arthur.
- My dear Mrs Cheveley,

you are far too clever
to know anything about love.

But I did love you... And you loved me.

I suppose when a man
has once loved a woman,

he'll do anything for her
except continue to love her.

Yes.

Except that.

Well?

I am tired of living abroad.

I want to come back to London.

I want to have a charming house.
I want to have a salon.

If one could only teach
the English how to talk

and the Irish how to listen,
society here would be civilised.

Besides, I have arrived
at the romantic stage.

When I saw you last night
at the Chilterns',

I realised that you were the only person
that I have ever cared for.

If I've ever cared for anyone, Arthur.

And so, on the morning of the day
that you marry me,

I will give you Robert Chiltern's letter.

That is my offer.

I'll give it you now,
if you promise to marry me.

Now?

Tomorrow.

Are you quite serious?

Yes, quite serious.

I would make you a very bad husband.

I don't mind bad husbands. I have
had two. They amuse me immensely.

No, you mean
you amuse yourself immensely.

- You know about my married life?
- No, but I can read it like a book.

- What book?
- The book of numbers.

Do you think it charming to be so rude
to a woman in your own house?

In the case of really fascinating women
sex is a challenge, not a defence.

I suppose that's meant as a compliment.

My dear Arthur, women
are never disarmed by compliments.

Men always are.
That is the difference between the sexes.

Women are never disarmed by anything
as far as I know them.

And so you will allow
your dearest friend, Robert Chiltern,

to be ruined rather than marry someone
who still has...

considerable attractions left?

Is that how you men
stand up for each other?

It is infinitely preferable to the war
you women wage against each other.

I only wage war against one woman -
Gertrude Chiltern.

I hate her now more than ever.

Because you have brought
a tragedy into her life?

There is only one real tragedy
in a woman's life.

The fact that her past is always her lover

and her future invariably her husband.

But Lady Chiltern knows nothing of
the kind of life to which you are alluding.

Well, Arthur...

I take it that this romantic interview
is at an end?

You admit it was romantic, don't you?

For the privilege of being your wife...

I was ready to surrender a great prize.

The climax of my diplomatic career.

You decline. Very well.

If Robert Chiltern will not uphold my
scheme, then I expose him. Voil� tout.

You must not.
That would be vile, horrible, infamous!

Don't use big words. They mean so little.

It's a commercial transaction.

If he won't pay me my price,
he must pay the world a greater price.

There's no more to be said. I must go.

Goodbye.

- Won't you shake hands?
- With you? No.

You went to the house of one of the
most noble gentlewomen in the world

to degrade her husband in her eyes,
to try and kill her love for him.

That I cannot forgive.

Arthur... you're unjust to me.

I didn't go to taunt Gertrude.

I called with Lady Markby
to see if an ornament,

a jewel, I had lost last night,
had been found at the Chilterns'.

A diamond snake brooch with rubies?

Yes. How did you know?

Because it is found.

I found it myself.

And I foolishly forgot to tell the butler
anything about it as I was leaving.

- This is the brooch?
- Yes, I'm so glad to have it back.

It was... a present.

- Won't you wear it?
- Why, certainly...

if you will pin it on.

Why do you put it on as a bra...

I never knew it could be worn
as a bracelet.

- Didn't you?
- No, but it looks very well as a bracelet.

- Much better than when I saw it last.
- And when did you see it last?

About ten years ago on my cousin,
Lady Berkshire, from whom you stole it.

- Wha... What do you mean?
- You stole that from my cousin,

to whom I gave it when she was married.
I recognised it last night.

I was determined to say nothing
until I found the thief.

- It's not true.
- Of course it's true.

"Thief" is written all over your face.

I shall deny the whole affair.

I shall say I have never seen this thing,
that it was never in my possession.

The drawback of stealing something

is that one never knows how
wonderful the thing that one steals is.

You cannot get the bracelet off.
You do not know where the spring is.

It is difficult to find. I gave the jeweller
the most particular instructions.

Oh, you brute!

- You coward!
- Don't use big words.

They mean so little.

What... What are you going to do?

I am going to ring for my servant.

He's a marvellous servant,
always comes the moment one rings.

And I am going to ask him
to fetch the police.

The police? What for?

Tomorrow the Berkshires will prosecute
you. That is what the police are for.

No, don't do it.

I'll... I'll do anything you want.

I'll do anything in the world you want.

Give me Robert Chiltern's letter.

No, I must have time to think.

- Give me Robert Chiltern's letter.
- I don't have it with me.

You're lying. Give it to me at once.

This is it?

For so well-dressed a woman,

you do have moments of
the most admirable common sense.

- And now, will you get my cloak?
- With pleasure.

Thank you.

I promise I will never try
to harm Robert Chiltern again.

Fortunately, you don't have the chance.

Even if I had the chance, I wouldn't do it.

On the contrary,
I'm going to render him a great service.

I am charmed to hear it.
Why this is a reformation.

I can't bear to see so upright
a gentleman,

so honourable an English gentleman,
so shamefully deceived.

And so?

I find that Gertrude Chiltern's
dying speech and confession

- has somehow strayed into my pocket.
- What do you mean?

I'm going to send Robert Chiltern the
love letter his wife wrote to you tonight.

Love letter?

"I want you.

"I trust you.

"I am coming to you. Gertrude. "

Give me that letter at once.

You're not leaving this room
till I've got it!

Lord Goring merely rang
so that you should show me out.

Good night, Lord Goring.

Well, sir, what are you doing here?

Wasting your time as usual?

My dear Father, when one pays a visit,

it is for the purpose of wasting
other people's time.

Have you been thinking over
what I spoke to you about?

- I've been thinking of nothing else.
- Are you engaged yet?

Not yet.

But I hope to be before lunchtime.

You can have until dinnertime if it
would be of more convenience to you.

Thank you
but I'd rather get engaged before lunch.

I never know
when you're being serious or not.

- Neither do I.
- Have you read The Times today?

The leading article
on Sir Robert Chiltern's career?

Good heavens, no. What does it say?

What should it say?
Everything complimentary.

Chiltern's speech
on the Argentine canal scheme

was one of the finest pieces of oratory

that's ever been delivered
in the House since Canning.

I have never heard of Canning.
and never wanted to.

But did Robert uphold the scheme?

Uphold it? How little you know him.

He denounced it roundly, and the whole
system of modern political finance.

Now wait a minute. Here we are.

"Sir Robert Chiltern,

"the most rising of our young statesmen,

"a brilliant orator, unblemished career,

"his well-known integrity of character,

"represents all that is best
in English public life. "

Yes, they'll never say that of you, sir.

I certainly hope not, Father.

But I'm glad about Robert.
It shows he's got pluck.

He has more than pluck, he has genius.

I prefer pluck. It's not so common
nowadays as genius is.

I wish you'd go into parliament.

My dear Father!

Only people who look dull
ever get into the House.

And only people who are dull
ever succeed there. Hmm?

Why don't you try to do
something useful in life?

Why don't you propose to this...
pretty Miss Chiltern?

Don't suppose there's the slightest
chance of her accepting you.

- You don't deserve her.
- Oh, dear Father.

If we married the women we deserved
we would have a very bad time of it.

- Oh, Miss Chiltern.
- How do you do, Lord Caversham?

I hope Lady Caversham is quite well?

- Lady Caversham is as usual.
- Good morning, Miss Mabel...

And Lady Caversham's bonnets.
Are they at all better?

They've had a serious relapse,
sorry to say.

- Good morning!
- I hope an operation is not necessary.

Miss Mabel! Good morning.

Oh... Are you here? You understand
after breaking your appointment,

I am never going to speak to you again.

Do you think you could make your son
behave a little better, occasionally?

- Just as a change?
- I'm sorry, Miss Chiltern,

I have no influence
over my son whatever.

I wish I had.
If I had, I know what I'd make him do.

Now, I really must bid you good morning.

I only dropped in to congratulate
Sir Robert on his speech.

You're leaving me alone
with Lord Goring at such an early hour?

I'm afraid I can't take him with me
to Downing Street.

It's not the prime minister's day
for seeing the unemployed.

People who don't keep appointments
in the park are horrid.

- Detestable!
- I am glad you admit it.

I wish you wouldn't look
so pleased about it.

I can't help it.
I always feel pleased when I'm with you.

- Then it's my duty to remain with you.
- Of course it is.

My duty is a thing I never do
on principle. It depresses me.

So... I'm afraid I must leave you.

Oh, Miss Mabel... Mab... Please don't!

I have something rather
particular to say to you.

Is it a proposal?

Yes.

Well, yes, I'm bound to confess that it is.

I am so glad.
That makes my second today.

Your second today? What conceited ass
has been impertinent enough

to propose to you
before I have proposed to you?!

Tommy Trafford, of course.
It's one of Tommy's days for proposing.

He always proposes on Tuesdays
and Thursdays during the season.

- You didn't accept?
- I never accept Tommy.

That is why he goes on proposing.

Oh, bother Tommy Trafford.
He's a stupid little ass.

- I love you.
- I know.

I wish you might have
mentioned it sooner.

I've given you heaps of opportunities.

Miss Mabel, please be serious.

That's what a man says to a girl
before he's married to her.

- He never says it afterwards.
- Mabel, I told you I love you.

Can't you love me just a little in return?

Oh, you... Silly Arthur.

If you knew anything about anything,
which you don't,

you'd know that I adore you.

Everybody knows it except you.
It's a public scandal the way I adore you.

I've been going around for six months

telling the whole of society
that I adore you.

I wonder you consent to have
anything to do with me.

I have no character left at all.

Oh, my dear. And I was so
awfully afraid of being refused.

You've never been refused yet
by anybody, have you?

I can't imagine anyone refusing you.

My dear, you know,
I'm not nearly good enough for you.

Oh, I am so glad. I was afraid you were.

And I'm...

I'm a little over 30.

Dear, you look weeks younger than that.

How sweet of you to say so.

And I feel bound to confess that...
I am, frankly, terribly extravagant.

So am I, Arthur, so we're sure to agree.

I must go and tell Gertrude.

Really? Will you tell her
that I want to talk to her?

I've been waiting
to speak to her or Robert all morning.

Do you mean you didn't come here
expressly to propose to me?

No.

That was a flash of genius.

- Your first.
- My last.

I'm delighted to hear it. Now don't stir -
I'll be back in five minutes.

Don't fall into any temptations
whilst I'm away.

My dear Mabel,
while you are away there are none.

It makes me horribly dependent on you.

Good morning, my dear.
How pretty you're looking.

How pale you're looking.
It's most becoming.

- Good morning, Lord Goring.
- Good morning, Lady Chiltern.

I'll be in the conservatory

- under the second tree on the left.
- Second on the left.

Lady Chiltern, I have a certain amount
of very good news for you.

Last night, Mrs Cheveley
came to see me in my house

and gave me up Robert's letter.
And I have burnt it. Robert is safe.

Safe!

Oh, I'm so glad of that.

What a good friend
you are to him... to us.

There is only one person now
that could be said to be in any danger.

- Who is that?
- Yourself.

I? In danger? What do you mean?

Yesterday you wrote me a very beautiful,
womanly letter, asking me for my help.

You wrote to me as one
of your oldest friends,

one of your husband's oldest friends.

Mrs Cheveley stole that letter
from my rooms.

What use is it to her?
Why should she not have it?

Lady Chiltern,
I will be perfectly frank with you.

Mrs Cheveley puts a certain...
construction on that letter

and proposes to send it
to your husband.

What construction could she put on it?

Oh, not that? Not that!

If I... in trouble... wanting your help.

Trusting you, propose to come to you...

Oh, are there women
as horrible as that?

- Let us tell Robert everything.
- That I wrote to you in those terms?

- It's better he knows the truth.
- I couldn't.

- May I do it?
- No.

- Lady Chiltern, you are wrong.
- The letter must be intercepted.

But how? I dare not ask
the servants to bring me his letters.

- Do his secretaries open his letters?
- Yes.

- Who is with him, Tommy Trafford?
- Yes.

- Tommy would do anything for you.
- I think so.

You would be able to recognise the letter
without reading it?

- On pink paper?
- I suppose so.

- Is he in the house now?
- Yes.

I will ask him to stop a letter
from reaching Sir Robert on pink paper!

He has it already.

"I want you. I trust you.
I am coming to you. Gertrude. "

Oh, my love, is this true?

If so, then it was for me to come to you.

This letter of yours, Gertrude,

makes me realise nothing
the world may do can hurt me now.

You want me?

Yes.

- You trust me?
- Yes.

Oh.

Why did you not add that you loved me?

Because I loved you.

Oh, Gertrude! You don't know what I feel.

When Trafford passed me
your letter across the table

he'd opened it by mistake, and I read it.

I didn't care what disgrace or ruin
were in store for me,

I only thought you loved me still.

There is no disgrace in store for you.
Nor any public shame.

Mrs Cheveley has handed
over to Lord Goring

the document that was in her possession
and he has destroyed it.

Are you sure, Gertrude?

Yes, Lord Goring has just told me.

So that's what was happening last night.

Then, I'm... safe.

Oh, for two days I've lived in terror
but now I'm safe.

- Arthur destroyed the letter?
- He burnt it.

I wish I'd seen that.

How many men would love to see
their past burning to ashes before them?

- Is Arthur still here?
- He's in the conservatory.

I'm so glad I made that speech
in the House.

I made it thinking that public disgrace
might be the result

but it has not been so.

- Public honour has been the result.
- Yes, I think so.

I fear so, almost.

For I suppose,
although I am safe from detection,

although all proof against me
has been destroyed, I suppose...

I should retire from public life.

Oh, yes, Robert, you should do that.

It is your duty to do that.

- It is much to surrender.
- No, it will be much to gain.

And you? Would you be happy
living somewhere alone with me?

Abroad perhaps?
Or in the country, away from public life?

- You would have no regrets?
- None, Robert.

And your ambition for me?
You used to be ambitious for me.

Oh, my ambition. I have none now
but that we two may love each other.

Let us talk no more about ambition.

Lord Goring, I don't think
your conversation is at all improving.

- Oh, my darling.
- What does this mean?

It means that this charming,
foolish young lady

has been clever enough to accept me.

Congratulations, Arthur.

Arthur! My best wishes to you both.

I'm sure you'll make an ideal husband.

An ideal husband?
I don't think I'd like that at all.

Sounds like something
out of the next world.

What do you want him to be then, dear?

Well, he can be what he chooses.
All I want to be is...

is to be a real wife to him.

Luncheon is on the table, my lady.