[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.
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