“You would not be a drone in the hive always?”
“As far as I can see, sir, we who call ourselves
lords generally are drones.”
“I deny it,” said the Earl, becoming quite
energetic as he defended his order. “I
deny it utterly. I know no class of men who do
work more useful or more honest. Am I a drone?
Have I been so from my youth upwards? I have
always worked, either in the one House or in the other,
and those of my fellows with whom I have been most
intimate have worked also. The same career is
open to you.”
“You mean politics?”
“Of course I mean politics.”
“I don’t care for politics. I see
no difference in parties.”
“But you should care for politics, and you should
see a difference in parties. It is your duty
to do so. My wish is that you should go into
Parliament.”
“I can’t do that, sir.”
“And why not?”
“In the first place, sir, you have not got a
seat to offer me.
You have managed matters among you in such a way that
poor little
Loughton has been swallowed up. If I were to
canvass the electors of
Smotherem, I don’t think that many would look
very sweet on me.”
“There is the county, Oswald.”
“And whom am I to turn out? I should spend
four or five thousand pounds, and have nothing but
vexation in return for it. I had rather not begin
that game, and indeed I am too old for Parliament.
I did not take it up early enough to believe in it.”
All this made the Earl very angry, and from these
things they went on to worse things. When questioned
again as to the future, Lord Chiltern scowled, and
at last declared that it was his idea to live abroad
in the summer for his wife’s recreation, and
somewhere down in the shires during the winter for
his own. He would admit of no purpose higher
than recreation, and when his father again talked to
him of a nobleman’s duty, he said that he knew
of no other special duty than that of not exceeding
his income. Then his father made a longer speech
than before, and at the end of it Lord Chiltern simply
wished him good night. “It’s getting
late, and I’ve promised to see Violet before
I go to bed. Good-bye.” Then he was
off, and Lord Brentford was left there, standing with
his back to the fire.
After that Lord Chiltern had a discussion with Violet,
which lasted nearly half the night; and during the
discussion she told him more than once that he was
wrong. “Such as I am you must take me, or
leave me,” he said, in anger. “Nay;
there is no choice now,” she answered.
“I have taken you, and I will stick by you,—whether
you are right or wrong. But when I think you
wrong, I shall say so.” He swore to her
as he pressed her to his heart that she was the finest,
grandest, sweetest woman that ever the world had produced.
But still there was present on his palate, when he
left her, the bitter taste of her reprimand.
