Mrs Cheveley That you must not do. In your own interests, Sir Robert, to say nothing of mine, you must not do that.

Sir Robert Chiltern (looking at her in wonder) In my own interests? My dear Mrs Cheveley, what do you mean? (Sits down beside her)

Mrs Cheveley Sir Robert, I will be quite frank with you. I want you to withdraw the report that you had intended to lay before the House,° on the ground that you have reasons to believe that the Commissioners have been prejudiced or misinformed, or something. Then I want you to say a few words to the effect that the Government is going to reconsider the question, and that you have reason to believe that the Canal, if completed, will be of great international value. You know the sort of things ministers say in cases of this kind. A few ordinary platitudes will do. In modern life nothing produces such an effect as a good platitude. It makes the whole world kin.° Will you do that for me?

Sir Robert Chiltern Mrs Cheveley, you cannot be serious in making me such a proposition!

Mrs Cheveley I am quite serious.

Sir Robert Chiltern (coldly) Pray allow me to believe that you are not!

Mrs Cheveley (speaking with great deliberation and emphasis) Ah! but I am. And if you do what I ask you, I… will pay you very handsomely!

Sir Robert Chiltern Pay me!

Mrs Cheveley Yes.

Sir Robert Chiltern I am afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean.

Mrs Cheveley (leaning back on the sofa and looking at him) How very disappointing! And I have come all the way from Vienna in order that you should thoroughly understand me.

Sir Robert Chiltern I fear I don’t.

Mrs Cheveley (in her most nonchalant manner) My dear Sir Robert, you are a man of the world, and you have your price, I suppose. Everybody has nowadays. The drawback is that most people are so dreadfully expensive. I know I am. I hope you will be more reasonable in your terms.

Sir Robert Chiltern (rises indignantly) If you will allow me, I will call your carriage° for you. You have lived so long abroad, Mrs Cheveley, that you seem to be unable to realize that you are talking to an English gentleman.

Mrs Cheveley (detains him by touching his arm with her fan, and keeping it there while she is talking) I realize that I am talking to a man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling to a Stock Exchange speculator a Cabinet secret.

Sir Robert Chiltern (biting his lip) What do you mean?

Mrs Cheveley (rising and facing him) I mean that I know the real origin of your wealth and your career, and I have got your letter, too.

Sir Robert Chiltern What letter?

Mrs Cheveley (contemptuously) 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.