The Sphinx Without a Secret (Wilde)
Concise Summary
Paris, approximately late 19th century. Sitting outside a café, the Narrator encountered an old college friend, Lord Gerald Murchison.
Gerald revealed his mysterious romance with Lady Alroy, whose secretive behavior intrigued and tormented him. Visiting her discreet lodgings secretly, she denied deceit.
'Lord Murchison, there is nothing to tell you.' - 'You went to meet some one,' I cried; 'this is your mystery.' She grew dreadfully white, and said, 'I went to meet no one,' - 'Can't you tell the truth?' I exclaimed. 'I have told it,' she replied.
Heartbroken by suspicion and mystery, Gerald left. Soon after, Lady Alroy died suddenly. Gerald discovered Lady Alroy rented rooms simply to enjoy secrecy, concluding she was merely a sphinx without a real secret.
Detailed Summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Meeting an Old Friend with a Mystery
One afternoon, the narrator was sitting outside the Cafe de la Paix in Paris, observing the contrasts of Parisian life, when he heard someone call his name. Turning around, he saw Lord Murchison, an old college friend he had not seen in nearly ten years. They greeted each other warmly, reminiscing about their Oxford days when they had been great friends.
The narrator noticed that Lord Murchison seemed changed—anxious and puzzled, as if troubled by something. When asked if he was married, Murchison replied that he did not understand women well enough for marriage.
'I cannot love where I cannot trust,' he replied. 'I believe you have a mystery in your life, Gerald,' I exclaimed; 'tell me about it.'
They decided to go for a drive, choosing a dark-green carriage, and headed toward the Madeleine. Lord Murchison suggested they dine at a restaurant in the Bois, where he would share his story.
The Woman in the Photograph
Before beginning his tale, Lord Murchison took a small morocco case from his pocket and handed it to the narrator. Inside was a photograph of a woman—tall, slight, and picturesque with large vague eyes and loosened hair. She was wrapped in rich furs and had the appearance of a clairvoyante.
When Lord Murchison asked if the face seemed truthful, the narrator studied it carefully.
I examined it carefully. It seemed to me the face of some one who had a secret, but whether that secret was good or evil I could not say. Its beauty was a beauty moulded out of many mysteries - the beauty, in face, which is psychological, not plastic.
The narrator described her as "the Gioconda in sables," but Lord Murchison postponed further explanation until after dinner. When they had their coffee and cigarettes, he began his story.
The Enigmatic Lady Alroy
Lord Murchison recounted how one evening in Bond Street, he had noticed a yellow brougham with a fascinating woman inside—the same woman from the photograph. He became obsessed with finding her again, searching carriages in the Row for days without success. About a week later, he was dining at Madame de Rastail's home when Lady Alroy was announced. To his delight, he was seated next to her at dinner.
When he mentioned seeing her in Bond Street, Lady Alroy grew pale and asked him to lower his voice, fearing they might be overheard. Throughout dinner, she spoke little and seemed constantly afraid. Despite this—or perhaps because of it—Lord Murchison fell passionately in love with her and was intrigued by the mystery surrounding her.
He arranged to visit her the next day, but when he arrived at her Park Lane home, the butler informed him she had just gone out. After several days without response to his letter, he finally received a note inviting him to visit on Sunday, with an unusual postscript.
'Please do not write to me here again; I will explain when I see you.' On Sunday she received me, and was perfectly charming; but when I was going away she begged of me, if I ever had occasion to write to her again, to address my letter to 'Mrs. Knox.'
Lady Alroy explained that she could not receive letters at her own house. Throughout the season, Lord Murchison saw her frequently, but the air of mystery never dissipated. He grew tired of the secrecy surrounding their relationship and decided to propose marriage.
I was infatuated with her: in spite of the mystery, I thought then - in consequence of it, I see now. No; it was the woman herself I loved. The mystery troubled me, maddened me. Why did chance put me in its track?
The Secret Apartment
On the day Lord Murchison planned to propose, he had lunch with his uncle in Regent's Park. Taking a shortcut through some shabby streets on his way to Piccadilly, he unexpectedly saw Lady Alroy walking quickly ahead of him. She was heavily veiled and entered a house using a latch-key. Convinced he had discovered her secret, he examined the house, which appeared to be a lodging house. Finding her handkerchief on the doorstep, he picked it up but decided against spying on her further.
When he visited Lady Alroy at six o'clock as planned, she claimed not to have left home all day. Lord Murchison confronted her with the handkerchief, saying he had found it in Cumnor Street. She looked terrified but made no attempt to take it or explain herself. When he pressed her about what she was doing there, she insisted there was nothing to tell and denied meeting anyone.
Their argument escalated, with Lord Murchison accusing her of lying and Lady Alroy maintaining her innocence. Furious and heartbroken, he stormed out. She wrote to him the next day, but he returned her letter unopened and left for Norway with his friend Alan Colville.
After a month, Lord Murchison returned to England and learned from the Morning Post that Lady Alroy had died. She had caught a chill at the Opera and died of congestion of the lungs five days later. Devastated, he isolated himself from everyone.
I shut myself up and saw no one. I had loved her so much, I had loved her so madly. Good God! how I had loved that woman!
Still tormented by doubt, Lord Murchison eventually went to Cumnor Street to investigate. He knocked on the door of the house where he had seen Lady Alroy enter, and a respectable-looking woman answered.
The Truth Behind the Mystery
When Lord Murchison inquired about rooms to let, the landlady explained that the drawing rooms were supposedly rented but she hadn't seen the lady tenant for three months and rent was owing. He showed her the photograph, and she confirmed it was indeed her tenant, whom she described as her best lodger, paying three guineas a week merely to sit in the drawing rooms occasionally.
'She simply sat in the drawing-room, sir, reading books, and sometimes had tea,' the woman answered. I did not know what to say, so I have her a sovereign and went away. Now, what do you think it all meant?
The landlady insisted that Lady Alroy always came alone and never met anyone there. Confused by this revelation, Lord Murchison asked the narrator what he thought it all meant, and whether he believed the landlady was telling the truth.
The narrator assured him that the landlady was indeed truthful. When Lord Murchison asked why Lady Alroy would go to such a place, the narrator offered his explanation.
'My dear Gerald,' I answered, 'Lady Alroy was simply a woman with a mania for mystery. She took these rooms for the pleasure of going there with her veil down, and imagining she was a heroine. She had a passion for secrecy, but she herself was merely a Sphinx without a secret.'
Lord Murchison seemed uncertain about this explanation. He took out the morocco case again, opened it, and looked at Lady Alroy's photograph, wondering if the narrator's assessment could be true.