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At Lady Windermere's

It was Lady Windermere's last party before the spring holidays. There were many more guests in Bentinck House – her London home – than usual. There were important men from the government in their best suits. All the beautiful women were wearing their most expensive dresses, and at the end of the biggest, longest room stood Princess Sophia of Carlsr ü he, a short, heavy little lady with small black eyes and big rings on her fingers. She spoke loudly in bad French and laughed at everything that people said to her.

It was a wonderful party. There were so many different and interesting people there. Sweet ladies from old families talked with angry young men. A number of rich old artists stood on the stairs and talked together like poor art students. It was one of Lady Windermere's best nights.

Lady Windermere looked very fine with her clear white neck, her large blue eyes, like the bluest of spring flowers, and her gold hair. It was a strong gold colour, not cheap yellow, but the rich gold of sunlight.

As a young woman Lady Windermere had a number of romantic adventures, which made people think that she was interesting. She married three times, but because she only had one lover through all those years, the world soon stopped telling terrible stories about her. She was now forty, had no children, and enjoyed pleasing herself, which is the secret of staying young.

She was pleased when Princess Sophia stayed for hours. When the Princess left at half past eleven, Lady Windermere began talking to her old friend the Duchess of Paisley.

'Where is my palmist ?' she asked suddenly.

'Your palmist?' cried the Duchess, nearly jumping out of her seat.

'Yes, I can't live without him at the moment.'

'You are always so unusual,' said the Duchess, trying to remember what a palmist was, and hoping that it wasn't like a manicurist .

'He looks at my hand twice a week,' went on Lady Windermere.

'Oh dear!' said the Duchess to herself. 'He really is like a manicurist after all. How terrible to ask an uninteresting guest to a party like this! I hope he isn't English.'

'He says that I have an interesting hand,' replied Lady Windermere, 'and that it's a good thing that my thumb isn't any shorter, because a very short thumb means that you look on the dark side of life and prefer to leave the world behind and to be alone.'

The Duchess felt happier at once. She understood that a palmist was someone special. 'Ah, I see. And can he see the future in your hand too?' she asked.

'Of course,' answered Lady Windermere. 'Both the good and the bad things. I think he prefers the bad. Next year, for example, I am in great danger on the ground and at sea, so I am going to live in a large balloon and pull up my lunch every day in a little lunch box. It is all in my hand, you know. I think everyone should visit a palmist once a month. That way they will know what they shouldn't do. Of course they'll still do it, but it's nice to hear about bad things before they happen. Now can somebody find Mr Podgers or do I have to look for him myself?'

Lord Arthur Savile, a tall young man, stood listening to their conversation with a smile on his face. He was thinking of Sybil Merton, the woman he wanted to marry. Turning to Lady Windermere, he said, 'I'll go and find Mr Podgers for you. But what is he like?'

'Well, he isn't unusual or romantic-looking. He's a short fat man with a large bald head and gold glasses. He looks like a family doctor, I'm afraid. People are very strange these days. They never look like what they are. I had a famous murderer here last year and he looked just like a nice old vicar and told funny stories all evening. Ah, there you are, Mr Podgers. Now, I want you to read the Duchess of Paisley's hand. Duchess, you must take off your glove . No, not your left hand, dear, the other one.'

'Oh, Lady Windermere. Are you sure this is all right?' said the Duchess, pulling off an old white glove.

'Of course not, nothing interesting ever is,' replied Lady Windermere, 'but that's how the world goes. Mr Podgers, this is the Duchess of Paisley. Duchess, this is Mr Podgers. And if you say that her mountain of the moon is bigger than mine I shall stop coming to you.'

'I am sure there's nothing like that in my hand,' said the Duchess.

'You are right,' said Mr Podgers, looking at the little fat hand with its short, square fingers. 'You have a very small mountain of the moon. But you have a very long life line and will live happily for many years to come. Your head line is not really very strong, but your heart line — '

'Oh, tell us about her romantic adventures, Mr Podgers.'

'I'm afraid, Lady Windermere, that there isn't anything to tell. I see her feeling the same as she always has and staying with her husband.'

The Duchess looked pleased. 'Go on, Mr Podgers,' she said.

'You are very careful about spending money, I see,' he said, and Lady Windermere began to laugh loudly.

'Well, Mr Podgers, I think that you have read the Duchess's hand beautifully,' she said. 'And now you must read some other hands, too.'

So Mr Podgers read a number of other people's hands. After only a short time some guests were afraid and didn't want him even to look at their hands. But Lord Arthur Savile was interested in hearing about his future.

'Will Mr Podgers read my hand?' he asked Lady Windermere.

'Of course. But I must tell you that Sybil is coming to lunch with me tomorrow. So if Mr Podgers learns that you get angry easily or are going to be ill in later life, or have a wife in Bayswater, I shall tell her everything.'

'I'm not afraid,' answered Lord Arthur. 'Sybil knows me as well as I know her. That is why she's marrying me.'

But when Mr Podgers saw Lord Arthur's hand his face went yellow, he said nothing, his bald head shook, and his fat fingers went cold.

Lord Arthur felt afraid. 'I am waiting, Mr Podgers,' he said.

'We are all waiting,' cried Lady Windermere.

Mr Podgers dropped Lord Arthur's right hand and looked carefully at his left one. His face went white. At last he looked up and pushed the corners of his mouth into a smile. 'It is the hand of a fine young man...' he said.

'Yes, we know that already,' said Lady Windermere. 'The question is: will he make a fine husband?'

'All fine young men do that, Lady Windermere... let me see... He will go on a journey soon...'

'A holiday with his new wife, of course.'

'And someone in his family will die.'

'Not his sister, I hope?' cried Lady Windermere.

'No, no,' said Mr Podgers. 'Someone not as near to him as that.'

'Oh dear! So I have nothing important to tell Sybil when she comes tomorrow.' said Lady Windermere. 'Oh well, time for supper then. Are you coming, Duchess?'

'Yes, my dear,' said the Duchess, moving slowly to the door, 'I'm tired, but I must say I have enjoyed myself, and your manicurist – palmist – was most interesting.'

Lord Arthur stood by the fire. Some guests left and some stayed. His sister walked past him to the supper table with Lord Plymdale, and Lord Arthur looked even more unhappy. He felt that something terrible was waiting in the future for him. He nearly cried to think that anything could possibly come between him and Sybil Merton. b8T95UgPpbi7H+0c4FeqwcWy8SFVoFrKXWINzgdwwUXPjKeqILlY2JNcENi2MmiF