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you and my husband, Mrs. Cheveley! [Moves away.]

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! chere Madame, queue surprise! I have not
seen you since Berlin!

MRS. CHEVELEY. Not since Berlin, Vicomte. Five years ago!

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. And you are younger and more beautiful than ever.
How do you manage it?

MRS. CHEVELEY. By making it a rule only to talk to perfectly
charming people like yourself.

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Ah! you flatter me. You butter me, as they say
here.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Do they say that here? How dreadful of them!

VICOMTE DE NANJAC. Yes, they have a wonderful language. It should
be more widely known.

[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN enters. A man of forty, but looking somewhat
younger. Clean-shaven, with finely-cut features, dark-haired and
dark-eyed. A personality of mark. Not popular - few personalities
are. But intensely admired by the few, and deeply respected by the
many. The note of his manner is that of perfect distinction, with a
slight touch of pride. One feels that he is conscious of the success
he has made in life. A nervous temperament, with a tired look. The
firmly-chiselled mouth and chin contrast strikingly with the romantic
expression in the deep-set eyes. The variance is suggestive of an
almost complete separation of passion and intellect, as though
thought and emotion were each isolated in its own sphere through some
violence of will-power. There is nervousness in the nostrils, and in
the pale, thin, pointed hands. It would be inaccurate to call him
picturesque. Picturesqueness cannot survive the House of Commons.
But Vandyck would have liked to have painted his head.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Good evening, Lady Markby! I hope you have
brought Sir John with you?

LADY MARKBY. Oh! I have brought a much more charming person than
Sir John. Sir John's temper since he has taken seriously to politics
has become quite unbearable. Really, now that the House of Commons
is trying to become useful, it does a great deal of harm.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I 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 you have been kind enough to bring to us?

LADY MARKBY. Her name is Mrs. Cheveley! One of the Dorsetshire
Cheveleys, I suppose. But I really don't know. Families are so
mixed nowadays. Indeed, as a rule, everybody turns out to be
somebody else.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Mrs. Cheveley? I seem to know the name.

LADY MARKBY. She has just arrived from Vienna.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! yes. I think I know whom you mean.

LADY MARKBY. Oh! she goes everywhere there, and has such pleasant
scandals about all her friends. I really must go to Vienna next
winter. I hope there is a good chef at the Embassy.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. If there is not, the Ambassador will certainly
have to be recalled. Pray point out Mrs.

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