Chapter 15

14 min

That evening, at eight-thirty, exquisitely dressed and wearing a large button-hole of Parma violets, Dorian Gray was ushered into Lady Narborough’s drawing-room by bowing servants. His forehead was throbbing with maddened nerves, and he felt wildly excited, but his manner as he bent over his hostess’s hand was as easy and graceful as ever. Perhaps one never seems so much at one’s ease as when one has to play a part. Certainly no one looking at Dorian Gray that night could have believed that he had passed through a tragedy as horrible as any tragedy of our age. Those finely shaped fingers could never have clutched a knife for sin, nor those smiling lips have cried out on God and goodness. He himself could not help wondering at the calm of his demeanour, and for a moment felt keenly the terrible pleasure of a double life.

That evening at eight-thirty, Dorian Gray arrived at Lady Narborough’s drawing room. He was exquisitely dressed and wore a large bunch of Parma violets in his buttonhole. Bowing servants showed him in. His forehead throbbed with frayed nerves, and he felt wildly excited. But as he bent over his hostess’s hand, his manner was as relaxed and graceful as ever. Perhaps people never seem more at ease than when they have to play a part. Certainly, no one who saw Dorian Gray that night could have believed he had lived through a tragedy as horrible as any of our age. Those finely shaped fingers could never have gripped a knife for a sinful purpose. Nor could those smiling lips have cried out against God and goodness. Dorian himself could not help wondering at how calmly he behaved. For a moment, he felt intensely the terrible pleasure of a double life.

It was a small party, got up rather in a hurry by Lady Narborough, who was a very clever woman with what Lord Henry used to describe as the remains of really remarkable ugliness. She had proved an excellent wife to one of our most tedious ambassadors, and having buried her husband properly in a marble mausoleum, which she had herself designed, and married off her daughters to some rich, rather elderly men, she devoted herself now to the pleasures of French fiction, French cookery, and French esprit when she could get it.

Lady Narborough had arranged the small party rather hurriedly. She was a very clever woman with what Lord Henry called the remains of truly remarkable ugliness. She had been an excellent wife to one of our most tedious ambassadors. She had buried her husband properly in a marble mausoleum she had designed herself. She had also married off her daughters to some rich, rather elderly men. Now she devoted herself to the pleasures of French fiction, French cooking, and French esprit whenever she could find it.

Dorian was one of her especial favourites, and she always told him that she was extremely glad she had not met him in early life. “I know, my dear, I should have fallen madly in love with you,” she used to say, “and thrown my bonnet right over the mills for your sake. It is most fortunate that you were not thought of at the time. As it was, our bonnets were so unbecoming, and the mills were so occupied in trying to raise the wind, that I never had even a flirtation with anybody. However, that was all Narborough’s fault. He was dreadfully short-sighted, and there is no pleasure in taking in a husband who never sees anything.”

Dorian was one of her special favourites. She always told him how glad she was that she had not met him earlier in life. “I know, my dear, I would have fallen madly in love with you,” she used to say. “I would have thrown my bonnet over the mills for you, along with my respectability. It is very lucky you had not yet been thought of back then. As it was, our bonnets were so unflattering, and the mills were so busy trying to raise the wind, or money, that I never even flirted with anyone. But that was all Narborough’s fault. He was terribly short-sighted, and there is no pleasure in deceiving a husband who never notices anything.”

Her guests this evening were rather tedious. The fact was, as she explained to Dorian, behind a very shabby fan, one of her married daughters had come up quite suddenly to stay with her, and, to make matters worse, had actually brought her husband with her. “I think it is most unkind of her, my dear,” she whispered. “Of course I go and stay with them every summer after I come from Homburg, but then an old woman like me must have fresh air sometimes, and besides, I really wake them up. You don’t know what an existence they lead down there. It is pure unadulterated country life. They get up early, because they have so much to do, and go to bed early, because they have so little to think about. There has not been a scandal in the neighbourhood since the time of Queen Elizabeth, and consequently they all fall asleep after dinner. You shan’t sit next either of them. You shall sit by me and amuse me.”

Her guests that evening were rather boring. She explained the problem to Dorian from behind a very shabby fan. One of her married daughters had suddenly come to stay and, to make matters worse, had actually brought her husband. “I think that’s very unkind of her, my dear,” she whispered. “Of course, I stay with them every summer after I return from Homburg. But an old woman like me needs fresh air sometimes, and besides, I really liven them up. You don’t know what a life they lead down there. It’s pure, unadulterated country life. They get up early because they have so much to do. They go to bed early because they have so little to think about. There hasn’t been a scandal in the neighborhood since Queen Elizabeth’s time. So they all fall asleep after dinner. You won’t sit next to either of them. You’ll sit next to me and amuse me.”

Dorian murmured a graceful compliment and looked round the room. Yes: it was certainly a tedious party. Two of the people he had never seen before, and the others consisted of Ernest Harrowden, one of those middle-aged mediocrities so common in London clubs who have no enemies, but are thoroughly disliked by their friends; Lady Ruxton, an overdressed woman of forty-seven, with a hooked nose, who was always trying to get herself compromised, but was so peculiarly plain that to her great disappointment no one would ever believe anything against her; Mrs. Erlynne, a pushing nobody, with a delightful lisp and Venetian-red hair; Lady Alice Chapman, his hostess’s daughter, a dowdy dull girl, with one of those characteristic British faces that, once seen, are never remembered; and her husband, a red-cheeked, white-whiskered creature who, like so many of his class, was under the impression that inordinate joviality can atone for an entire lack of ideas.

Dorian murmured a gracious compliment and looked around the room. Yes, it was certainly a tedious party. He had never seen two of the guests before. The others included Ernest Harrowden, one of those middle-aged nobodies so common in London clubs. Men like him have no enemies, but their friends thoroughly dislike them. There was also Lady Ruxton, an overdressed woman of forty-seven with a hooked nose. She was always trying to involve herself in a scandal. But she was so unusually plain that, to her great disappointment, no one would believe anything bad about her. Mrs. Erlynne was a pushy nobody with a delightful lisp and Venetian-red hair. Lady Alice Chapman, his hostess’s daughter, was a drab, dull girl. She had one of those distinctly British faces that are forgotten as soon as they are seen. Her husband was a red-cheeked creature with white whiskers. Like so many of his class, he thought excessive cheerfulness could make up for a complete lack of ideas.

He was rather sorry he had come, till Lady Narborough, looking at the great ormolu gilt clock that sprawled in gaudy curves on the mauve-draped mantelshelf, exclaimed: “How horrid of Henry Wotton to be so late! I sent round to him this morning on chance and he promised faithfully not to disappoint me.”

He was rather sorry he had come. Then Lady Narborough looked at the large gilded clock on the mantel, draped in mauve. The clock sprawled in gaudy curves. She exclaimed: “How awful of Henry Wotton to be so late! I sent him a message this morning on the chance that he might come. He promised faithfully not to disappoint me.”

It was some consolation that Harry was to be there, and when the door opened and he heard his slow musical voice lending charm to some insincere apology, he ceased to feel bored.

It was some comfort that Harry would be there. When the door opened, he heard Harry's slow, musical voice lending charm to an insincere apology. He was no longer bored.

But at dinner he could not eat anything. Plate after plate went away untasted. Lady Narborough kept scolding him for what she called “an insult to poor Adolphe, who invented the menu specially for you,” and now and then Lord Henry looked across at him, wondering at his silence and abstracted manner. From time to time the butler filled his glass with champagne. He drank eagerly, and his thirst seemed to increase.

But at dinner he could not eat anything. Plate after plate was taken away untouched. Lady Narborough kept scolding him for what she called “an insult to poor Adolphe, who created the menu especially for you.” Now and then Lord Henry looked across at him, wondering why he was so quiet and distracted. From time to time the butler filled his glass with champagne. He drank eagerly, and his thirst seemed to grow.

“Dorian,” said Lord Henry at last, as the chaud-froid was being handed round, “what is the matter with you to-night? You are quite out of sorts.”

“Dorian,” Lord Henry said at last, as the chaud-froid was being passed around, “what’s wrong with you tonight? You seem quite out of sorts.”

“I believe he is in love,” cried Lady Narborough, “and that he is afraid to tell me for fear I should be jealous. He is quite right. I certainly should.”

“I think he’s in love,” cried Lady Narborough, “and he’s afraid to tell me because I might be jealous. He’s quite right. I certainly would be.”

“Dear Lady Narborough,” murmured Dorian, smiling, “I have not been in love for a whole week—not, in fact, since Madame de Ferrol left town.”

“Dear Lady Narborough,” Dorian murmured with a smile, “I haven’t been in love for a whole week. In fact, not since Madame de Ferrol left town.”

“How you men can fall in love with that woman!” exclaimed the old lady. “I really cannot understand it.”

“How can you men fall in love with that woman!” exclaimed the old lady. “I really don’t understand it.”

“It is simply because she remembers you when you were a little girl, Lady Narborough,” said Lord Henry. “She is the one link between us and your short frocks.”

“It’s simply because she remembers you as a little girl, Lady Narborough,” said Lord Henry. “She’s our only link to the days when you wore little girls’ dresses.”

“She does not remember my short frocks at all, Lord Henry. But I remember her very well at Vienna thirty years ago, and how décolletée she was then.”

“She doesn’t remember my childhood dresses at all, Lord Henry. But I remember her very well in Vienna thirty years ago, and how low-cut her dress was then.”

“She is still décolletée,” he answered, taking an olive in his long fingers; “and when she is in a very smart gown she looks like an édition de luxe of a bad French novel. She is really wonderful, and full of surprises. Her capacity for family affection is extraordinary. When her third husband died, her hair turned quite gold from grief.”

“She still wears low-cut dresses,” he replied, picking up an olive with his long fingers. “And when she wears a very elegant dress, she looks like a luxury edition of a bad French novel. She is truly wonderful and full of surprises. Her capacity for family affection is extraordinary. When her third husband died, her hair turned completely gold from grief.”

“How can you, Harry!” cried Dorian.

“How could you, Harry!” cried Dorian.

“It is a most romantic explanation,” laughed the hostess. “But her third husband, Lord Henry! You don’t mean to say Ferrol is the fourth?”

“That’s a very romantic explanation,” the hostess said with a laugh. “But her third husband, Lord Henry! You don’t mean Ferrol is her fourth?”

“Certainly, Lady Narborough.”

“Of course, Lady Narborough.”

“I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Well, ask Mr. Gray. He is one of her most intimate friends.”

“Well, ask Mr. Gray. He is one of her closest friends.”

“Is it true, Mr. Gray?”

“She assures me so, Lady Narborough,” said Dorian. “I asked her whether, like Marguerite de Navarre, she had their hearts embalmed and hung at her girdle. She told me she didn’t, because none of them had had any hearts at all.”

“She assures me that’s true, Lady Narborough,” said Dorian. “I asked if she had their hearts embalmed and hung from her belt, like Marguerite de Navarre. She said she didn’t, because none of them had hearts at all.”

“Four husbands! Upon my word that is trop de zêle.”

“Four husbands! Honestly, that is too much enthusiasm.”

“Trop d’audace, I tell her,” said Dorian.

“Too bold, I tell her,” said Dorian.

“Oh! she is audacious enough for anything, my dear. And what is Ferrol like? I don’t know him.”

“Oh! She’s bold enough to do anything, my dear. And what’s Ferrol like? I don’t know him.”

“The husbands of very beautiful women belong to the criminal classes,” said Lord Henry, sipping his wine.

“The husbands of very beautiful women are criminals,” said Lord Henry, sipping his wine.

Lady Narborough hit him with her fan. “Lord Henry, I am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked.”

Lady Narborough hit him with her fan. “Lord Henry, I’m not at all surprised that everyone says you’re extremely wicked.”

“But what world says that?” asked Lord Henry, elevating his eyebrows. “It can only be the next world. This world and I are on excellent terms.”

“But what world says that?” asked Lord Henry, raising his eyebrows. “It can only be the next world. This world and I get along very well.”

“Everybody I know says you are very wicked,” cried the old lady, shaking her head.

“Everyone I know says you are very wicked,” the old lady exclaimed, shaking her head.

Lord Henry looked serious for some moments. “It is perfectly monstrous,” he said, at last, “the way people go about nowadays saying things against one behind one’s back that are absolutely and entirely true.”

Lord Henry looked serious for a few moments. “It’s absolutely outrageous,” he said at last. “People nowadays say things about you behind your back that are completely and entirely true.”

“Isn’t he incorrigible?” cried Dorian, leaning forward in his chair.

“Isn’t he impossible?” cried Dorian, leaning forward in his chair.

“I hope so,” said his hostess, laughing. “But really, if you all worship Madame de Ferrol in this ridiculous way, I shall have to marry again so as to be in the fashion.”

“I hope so,” said his hostess, laughing. “But really, if you all worship Madame de Ferrol so ridiculously, I’ll have to marry again to keep up with fashion.”

“You will never marry again, Lady Narborough,” broke in Lord Henry. “You were far too happy. When a woman marries again, it is because she detested her first husband. When a man marries again, it is because he adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs.”

“You’ll never marry again, Lady Narborough,” Lord Henry interrupted. “You were much too happy. When a woman marries again, it’s because she hated her first husband. When a man marries again, it’s because he adored his first wife. Women try their luck. Men risk theirs.”

“Narborough wasn’t perfect,” cried the old lady.

“Narborough wasn’t perfect,” exclaimed the old lady.

“If he had been, you would not have loved him, my dear lady,” was the rejoinder. “Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our intellects. You will never ask me to dinner again after saying this, I am afraid, Lady Narborough, but it is quite true.”

“If he had been, you would not have loved him, my dear lady,” he replied. “Women love us for our flaws. If we have enough flaws, they will forgive us everything, even our intelligence. I’m afraid you’ll never invite me to dinner again after I’ve said this, Lady Narborough. But it’s quite true.”

“Of course it is true, Lord Henry. If we women did not love you for your defects, where would you all be? Not one of you would ever be married. You would be a set of unfortunate bachelors. Not, however, that that would alter you much. Nowadays all the married men live like bachelors, and all the bachelors like married men.”

“Of course it’s true, Lord Henry. If we women didn’t love you for your flaws, where would you all be? Not one of you would ever be married. You would all be unfortunate bachelors. But being bachelors wouldn’t change you much. These days, all married men live like bachelors, and all bachelors live like married men.”

“Fin de siêcle,” murmured Lord Henry.

“End of the century,” whispered Lord Henry.

“Fin du globe,” answered his hostess.

“The end of the world,” said his hostess.

“I wish it were fin du globe,” said Dorian with a sigh. “Life is a great disappointment.”

“I wish it were the end of the world,” Dorian said with a sigh. “Life is a great disappointment.”

“Ah, my dear,” cried Lady Narborough, putting on her gloves, “don’t tell me that you have exhausted life. When a man says that one knows that life has exhausted him. Lord Henry is very wicked, and I sometimes wish that I had been; but you are made to be good—you look so good. I must find you a nice wife. Lord Henry, don’t you think that Mr. Gray should get married?”

“Ah, my dear,” cried Lady Narborough, putting on her gloves, “don’t tell me you’ve exhausted everything life has to offer. When a man says that, you know life has exhausted him. Lord Henry is very wicked, and I sometimes wish I had been too. But you’re meant to be good. You look so good. I must find you a nice wife. Lord Henry, don’t you think Mr. Gray should get married?”

“I am always telling him so, Lady Narborough,” said Lord Henry with a bow.

“I’m always telling him that, Lady Narborough,” said Lord Henry, bowing.

“Well, we must look out for a suitable match for him. I shall go through Debrett carefully to-night and draw out a list of all the eligible young ladies.”

“Well, we must find him a suitable match. Tonight, I’ll carefully look through Debrett and make a list of all the eligible young women.”

“With their ages, Lady Narborough?” asked Dorian.

“With their ages, Lady Narborough?” Dorian asked.

“Of course, with their ages, slightly edited. But nothing must be done in a hurry. I want it to be what The Morning Post calls a suitable alliance, and I want you both to be happy.”

“Of course, with their ages slightly adjusted. But nothing should be rushed. I want it to be what The Morning Post calls a suitable match. And I want you both to be happy.”

“What nonsense people talk about happy marriages!” exclaimed Lord Henry. “A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not love her.”

“What nonsense people say about happy marriages!” exclaimed Lord Henry. “A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he doesn't love her.”

“Ah! what a cynic you are!” cried the old lady, pushing back her chair and nodding to Lady Ruxton. “You must come and dine with me soon again. You are really an admirable tonic, much better than what Sir Andrew prescribes for me. You must tell me what people you would like to meet, though. I want it to be a delightful gathering.”

“Oh, what a cynic you are!” cried the old lady, pushing back her chair and nodding to Lady Ruxton. “You must come to dinner again soon. You really are an excellent tonic, much better than anything Sir Andrew prescribes for me. But you must tell me whom you would like to meet. I want the gathering to be delightful.”

“I like men who have a future and women who have a past,” he answered. “Or do you think that would make it a petticoat party?”

“I like men who have a future and women who have a past,” he replied. “Or do you think that would make it a party with mostly women?”

“I fear so,” she said, laughing, as she stood up. “A thousand pardons, my dear Lady Ruxton,” she added, “I didn’t see you hadn’t finished your cigarette.”

“I’m afraid so,” she said, laughing as she stood up. “I’m so sorry, Lady Ruxton,” she added. “I didn’t notice you hadn’t finished your cigarette.”

“Never mind, Lady Narborough. I smoke a great deal too much. I am going to limit myself, for the future.”

“Never mind, Lady Narborough. I smoke far too much. I’m going to cut back from now on.”

“Pray don’t, Lady Ruxton,” said Lord Henry. “Moderation is a fatal thing. Enough is as bad as a meal. More than enough is as good as a feast.”

“Please don’t, Lady Ruxton,” said Lord Henry. “Moderation is a deadly thing. Enough is as bad as a meal. More than enough is as good as a feast.”

Lady Ruxton glanced at him curiously. “You must come and explain that to me some afternoon, Lord Henry. It sounds a fascinating theory,” she murmured, as she swept out of the room.

Lady Ruxton looked at him curiously. “You must come and explain that to me one afternoon, Lord Henry. It sounds like a fascinating theory,” she said softly as she swept out of the room.

“Now, mind you don’t stay too long over your politics and scandal,” cried Lady Narborough from the door. “If you do, we are sure to squabble upstairs.”

“Now, make sure you don’t spend too long talking about politics and scandal,” called Lady Narborough from the door. “If you do, we’re sure to start arguing upstairs.”

The men laughed, and Mr. Chapman got up solemnly from the foot of the table and came up to the top. Dorian Gray changed his seat and went and sat by Lord Henry. Mr. Chapman began to talk in a loud voice about the situation in the House of Commons. He guffawed at his adversaries. The word doctrinaire—word full of terror to the British mind—reappeared from time to time between his explosions. An alliterative prefix served as an ornament of oratory. He hoisted the Union Jack on the pinnacles of thought. The inherited stupidity of the race—sound English common sense he jovially termed it—was shown to be the proper bulwark for society.

The men laughed, and Mr. Chapman rose solemnly from the foot of the table and moved to the head. Dorian Gray changed seats and sat beside Lord Henry. Mr. Chapman began speaking loudly about the situation in the House of Commons. He laughed loudly at his opponents. From time to time, the word doctrinaire appeared between his outbursts. The word struck terror into the British mind. He dressed up his speech with an alliterative prefix. He planted the Union Jack on the highest peaks of thought. He showed that the inherited stupidity of the race was society's proper defense. He cheerfully called it sound English common sense.

A smile curved Lord Henry’s lips, and he turned round and looked at Dorian.

Lord Henry smiled, then turned and looked at Dorian.

“Are you better, my dear fellow?” he asked. “You seemed rather out of sorts at dinner.”

“Are you feeling better, my friend?” he asked. “You seemed a little unwell at dinner.”

“I am quite well, Harry. I am tired. That is all.”

“I’m quite well, Harry. I’m tired. That’s all.”

“You were charming last night. The little duchess is quite devoted to you. She tells me she is going down to Selby.”

“You were charming last night. The little duchess is quite fond of you. She tells me she’s going to Selby.”

“She has promised to come on the twentieth.”

“She promised to come on the twentieth.”

“Is Monmouth to be there, too?”

“Will Monmouth be there, too?”

“Oh, yes, Harry.”

“He bores me dreadfully, almost as much as he bores her. She is very clever, too clever for a woman. She lacks the indefinable charm of weakness. It is the feet of clay that make the gold of the image precious. Her feet are very pretty, but they are not feet of clay. White porcelain feet, if you like. They have been through the fire, and what fire does not destroy, it hardens. She has had experiences.”

“He bores me terribly, almost as much as he bores her. She is very clever, too clever for a woman. She lacks that hard-to-define charm of weakness. It is the clay feet that make a golden statue precious. Her feet are very pretty, but they are not made of clay. You could say they are made of white porcelain. They have been through the fire, and whatever fire does not destroy, it hardens. She has had experiences.”

“How long has she been married?” asked Dorian.

“An eternity, she tells me. I believe, according to the peerage, it is ten years, but ten years with Monmouth must have been like eternity, with time thrown in. Who else is coming?”

“An eternity, she tells me. I believe the peerage says it is ten years. But ten years with Monmouth must have felt like eternity, with time thrown in. Who else is coming?”

“Oh, the Willoughbys, Lord Rugby and his wife, our hostess, Geoffrey Clouston, the usual set. I have asked Lord Grotrian.”

“Oh, the Willoughbys, Lord Rugby and his wife, our hostess, Geoffrey Clouston, the usual crowd. I’ve invited Lord Grotrian.”

“I like him,” said Lord Henry. “A great many people don’t, but I find him charming. He atones for being occasionally somewhat overdressed by being always absolutely over-educated. He is a very modern type.”

“I like him,” said Lord Henry. “A lot of people don’t, but I find him charming. He makes up for sometimes being a little overdressed by always being completely overeducated. He is a very modern type.”

“I don’t know if he will be able to come, Harry. He may have to go to Monte Carlo with his father.”

“I don’t know if he can come, Harry. He may have to go to Monte Carlo with his father.”

“Ah! what a nuisance people’s people are! Try and make him come. By the way, Dorian, you ran off very early last night. You left before eleven. What did you do afterwards? Did you go straight home?”

“Oh, what a nuisance people’s families are! Try to get him to come. By the way, Dorian, you left very early last night, before eleven. What did you do afterwards? Did you go straight home?”

Dorian glanced at him hurriedly and frowned.

Dorian quickly glanced at him and frowned.

“No, Harry,” he said at last, “I did not get home till nearly three.”

“No, Harry,” he said at last, “I didn't get home until almost three.”

“Did you go to the club?”

“Yes,” he answered. Then he bit his lip. “No, I don’t mean that. I didn’t go to the club. I walked about. I forget what I did.... How inquisitive you are, Harry! You always want to know what one has been doing. I always want to forget what I have been doing. I came in at half-past two, if you wish to know the exact time. I had left my latch-key at home, and my servant had to let me in. If you want any corroborative evidence on the subject, you can ask him.”

“Yes,” he answered. Then he bit his lip. “No, I don’t mean that. I didn’t go to the club. I walked around. I forget what I did.... You’re so curious, Harry! You always want to know what people have been doing. I always want to forget what I’ve been doing. I came home at two thirty, if you want to know the exact time. I had left my key at home, and my servant had to let me in. If you want someone to confirm it, you can ask him.”

Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. “My dear fellow, as if I cared! Let us go up to the drawing-room. No sherry, thank you, Mr. Chapman. Something has happened to you, Dorian. Tell me what it is. You are not yourself to-night.”

Lord Henry shrugged. “My dear fellow, as if I cared! Let’s go upstairs to the drawing room. No sherry, thank you, Mr. Chapman. Something has happened to you, Dorian. Tell me what happened. You’re not yourself tonight.”

“Don’t mind me, Harry. I am irritable, and out of temper. I shall come round and see you to-morrow, or next day. Make my excuses to Lady Narborough. I shan’t go upstairs. I shall go home. I must go home.”

“Don’t mind me, Harry. I’m irritable and in a bad mood. I’ll come and see you tomorrow or the next day. Please apologize to Lady Narborough for me. I won’t go upstairs. I’m going home. I must go home.”

“All right, Dorian. I dare say I shall see you to-morrow at tea-time. The duchess is coming.”

“All right, Dorian. I expect I’ll see you tomorrow at tea time. The duchess is coming.”

“I will try to be there, Harry,” he said, leaving the room. As he drove back to his own house, he was conscious that the sense of terror he thought he had strangled had come back to him. Lord Henry’s casual questioning had made him lose his nerve for the moment, and he wanted his nerve still. Things that were dangerous had to be destroyed. He winced. He hated the idea of even touching them.

“I’ll try to be there, Harry,” he said as he left the room. As he drove home, he realized that the terror he thought he had crushed had returned. Lord Henry’s casual questions had made him lose his nerve for a moment, and he still needed it. Dangerous things had to be destroyed. He winced. He hated the idea of even touching them.

Yet it had to be done. He realized that, and when he had locked the door of his library, he opened the secret press into which he had thrust Basil Hallward’s coat and bag. A huge fire was blazing. He piled another log on it. The smell of the singeing clothes and burning leather was horrible. It took him three-quarters of an hour to consume everything. At the end he felt faint and sick, and having lit some Algerian pastilles in a pierced copper brazier, he bathed his hands and forehead with a cool musk-scented vinegar.

Yet it had to be done. He knew that. After locking the library door, he opened the secret cupboard where he had hidden Basil Hallward’s coat and bag. A huge fire was blazing. He put another log on it. The smell of the scorching clothes and burning leather was horrible. It took him forty-five minutes to burn everything. By the end, he felt faint and sick. He lit some Algerian pastilles in a perforated copper brazier, then bathed his hands and forehead with cool, musk-scented vinegar.

Suddenly he started. His eyes grew strangely bright, and he gnawed nervously at his underlip. Between two of the windows stood a large Florentine cabinet, made out of ebony and inlaid with ivory and blue lapis. He watched it as though it were a thing that could fascinate and make afraid, as though it held something that he longed for and yet almost loathed. His breath quickened. A mad craving came over him. He lit a cigarette and then threw it away. His eyelids drooped till the long fringed lashes almost touched his cheek. But he still watched the cabinet. At last he got up from the sofa on which he had been lying, went over to it, and having unlocked it, touched some hidden spring. A triangular drawer passed slowly out. His fingers moved instinctively towards it, dipped in, and closed on something. It was a small Chinese box of black and gold-dust lacquer, elaborately wrought, the sides patterned with curved waves, and the silken cords hung with round crystals and tasselled in plaited metal threads. He opened it. Inside was a green paste, waxy in lustre, the odour curiously heavy and persistent.

Suddenly, he started. His eyes grew strangely bright, and he nervously bit his lower lip. Between two windows stood a large Florentine cabinet, made of ebony and inlaid with ivory and blue lapis. He watched it as if it could fascinate and frighten him, as if it held something he longed for and yet almost hated. His breathing quickened. A wild craving came over him. He lit a cigarette, then threw it away. His eyelids drooped until his long lashes almost touched his cheek. But he still watched the cabinet. At last he got up from the sofa where he had been lying and went over to the cabinet. He unlocked it and touched a hidden spring. A triangular drawer slowly slid out. His fingers moved instinctively toward it, reached inside, and closed around something. It was a small Chinese box of black lacquer with gold dust, decorated with great care. Curved waves patterned its sides, and its silk cords were hung with round crystals and tassels of braided metal thread. He opened it. Inside was a green paste with a waxy shine and a strangely heavy, lingering smell.

He hesitated for some moments, with a strangely immobile smile upon his face. Then shivering, though the atmosphere of the room was terribly hot, he drew himself up and glanced at the clock. It was twenty minutes to twelve. He put the box back, shutting the cabinet doors as he did so, and went into his bedroom.

He hesitated for a few moments, a strangely motionless smile on his face. Then he shivered, though the room was terribly hot. He straightened up and glanced at the clock. It was twenty minutes to twelve. He put the box back, closed the cabinet doors, and went into his bedroom.

As midnight was striking bronze blows upon the dusky air, Dorian Gray, dressed commonly, and with a muffler wrapped round his throat, crept quietly out of his house. In Bond Street he found a hansom with a good horse. He hailed it and in a low voice gave the driver an address.

As midnight struck bronze blows into the dark air, Dorian Gray slipped quietly out of his house. He wore ordinary clothes and had a scarf wrapped around his neck. In Bond Street, he found a horse-drawn cab with a good horse. He hailed it and quietly gave the driver an address.

The man shook his head. “It is too far for me,” he muttered.

The man shook his head. “It’s too far for me,” he muttered.

“Here is a sovereign for you,” said Dorian. “You shall have another if you drive fast.”

“Here’s a gold coin for you,” said Dorian. “You’ll get another if you drive fast.”

“All right, sir,” answered the man, “you will be there in an hour,” and after his fare had got in he turned his horse round and drove rapidly towards the river.

“All right, sir,” the man replied. “You’ll be there in an hour.” After his passenger got in, he turned his horse around and drove quickly toward the river.