MRS. CHEVELEY. My worst? I have not yet finished with you, with either of you. I give you both till to-morrow at noon. If by then you don’t do what I bid you to do, the whole world shall know the origin of Robert Chiltern. [SIR ROBERT CHILTERN _strikes the bell_. _Enter_ MASON.] SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Show Mrs. Cheveley out. [MRS. CHEVELEY _starts_; _then bows with somewhat exaggerated politeness to_ LADY CHILTERN, _who makes no sign of response_. _As she passes by_ SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, _who is standing close to the door_, _she pauses for a moment and looks him straight in the face_. _She then goes out_, _followed by the servant_, _who closes the door after him_. _The husband and wife are left alone_. LADY CHILTERN _stands like some one in a dreadful dream_. _Then she turns round and looks at her husband_. _She looks at him with strange eyes_, _as though she were seeing him for the first time_.] LADY CHILTERN. You sold a Cabinet secret for money! You began your life with fraud! You built up your career on dishonour! Oh, tell me it is not true! Lie to me! Lie to me! Tell me it is not true! SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What this woman said is quite true. But, Gertrude, listen to me. You don’t realise how I was tempted. Let me tell you the whole thing. [_Goes towards her_.] LADY CHILTERN. Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. I feel as if you had soiled me for ever. Oh! what a mask you have been wearing all these years! A horrible painted mask! You sold yourself for money. Oh! a common thief were better. You put yourself up to sale to the highest bidder! You were bought in the market. You lied to the whole world. And yet you will not lie to me. SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [_Rushing towards her_.] Gertrude! Gertrude! LADY CHILTERN. [_Thrusting him back with outstretched hands_.] No, don’t speak! Say nothing! Your voice wakes terrible memories—memories of things that made me love you—memories of words that made me love you—memories that now are horrible to me. And 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 finer because you were in it, and goodness more real because you lived. And now—oh, when I think that I made of a man like you my ideal! the ideal of my life!