English
Thatevening,ateight-thirty,exquisitelydressedandwearingalargebutton-holeofParmaviolets,DorianGraywasusheredintoLadyNarborough’sdrawing-roombybowingservants.
Hisforeheadwasthrobbingwithmaddenednerves,andhefeltwildlyexcited,buthismannerashebentoverhishostess’shandwasaseasyandgracefulasever.
Perhapsoneneverseemssomuchatone’seaseaswhenonehastoplayapart.
CertainlynoonelookingatDorianGraythatnightcouldhavebelievedthathehadpassedthroughatragedyashorribleasanytragedyofourage.
Thosefinelyshapedfingerscouldneverhaveclutchedaknifeforsin,northosesmilinglipshavecriedoutonGodandgoodness.
Hehimselfcouldnothelpwonderingatthecalmofhisdemeanour,andforamomentfeltkeenlytheterriblepleasureofadoublelife.
Itwasasmallparty,gotupratherinahurrybyLadyNarborough,whowasaverycleverwomanwithwhatLordHenryusedtodescribeastheremainsofreallyremarkableugliness.
Shehadprovedanexcellentwifetooneofourmosttediousambassadors,andhavingburiedherhusbandproperlyinamarblemausoleum,whichshehadherselfdesigned,andmarriedoffherdaughterstosomerich,ratherelderlymen,shedevotedherselfnowtothepleasuresofFrenchfiction,Frenchcookery,andFrenchespritwhenshecouldgetit.
Dorianwasoneofherespecialfavourites,andshealwaystoldhimthatshewasextremelygladshehadnotmethiminearlylife.
“Iknow,mydear,Ishouldhavefallenmadlyinlovewithyou,”sheusedtosay,“andthrownmybonnetrightoverthemillsforyoursake.
Itismostfortunatethatyouwerenotthoughtofatthetime.
Asitwas,ourbonnetsweresounbecoming,andthemillsweresooccupiedintryingtoraisethewind,thatIneverhadevenaflirtationwithanybody.
However,thatwasallNarborough’sfault.
Hewasdreadfullyshort-sighted,andthereisnopleasureintakinginahusbandwhoneverseesanything.”
Hergueststhiseveningwererathertedious.
Thefactwas,assheexplainedtoDorian,behindaveryshabbyfan,oneofhermarrieddaughtershadcomeupquitesuddenlytostaywithher,and,tomakemattersworse,hadactuallybroughtherhusbandwithher.
“Ithinkitismostunkindofher,mydear,”shewhispered.
“OfcourseIgoandstaywiththemeverysummerafterIcomefromHomburg,butthenanoldwomanlikememusthavefreshairsometimes,andbesides,Ireallywakethemup.
Youdon’tknowwhatanexistencetheyleaddownthere.Itispureunadulteratedcountrylife.
Theygetupearly,becausetheyhavesomuchtodo,andgotobedearly,becausetheyhavesolittletothinkabout.
TherehasnotbeenascandalintheneighbourhoodsincethetimeofQueenElizabeth,andconsequentlytheyallfallasleepafterdinner.Youshan’tsitnexteitherofthem.Youshallsitbymeandamuseme.”
Dorianmurmuredagracefulcomplimentandlookedroundtheroom.Yes:itwascertainlyatediousparty.
Twoofthepeoplehehadneverseenbefore,andtheothersconsistedofErnestHarrowden,oneofthosemiddle-agedmediocritiessocommoninLondonclubswhohavenoenemies,butarethoroughlydislikedbytheirfriends;LadyRuxton,anoverdressedwomanofforty-seven,withahookednose,whowasalwaystryingtogetherselfcompromised,butwassopeculiarlyplainthattohergreatdisappointmentnoonewouldeverbelieveanythingagainsther;Mrs.Erlynne,apushingnobody,withadelightfullispandVenetian-redhair;LadyAliceChapman,hishostess’sdaughter,adowdydullgirl,withoneofthosecharacteristicBritishfacesthat,onceseen,areneverremembered;andherhusband,ared-cheeked,white-whiskeredcreaturewho,likesomanyofhisclass,wasundertheimpressionthatinordinatejovialitycanatoneforanentirelackofideas.
Hewasrathersorryhehadcome,tillLadyNarborough,lookingatthegreatormolugiltclockthatsprawledingaudycurvesonthemauve-drapedmantelshelf,exclaimed:“HowhorridofHenryWottontobesolate!
Isentroundtohimthismorningonchanceandhepromisedfaithfullynottodisappointme.”
ItwassomeconsolationthatHarrywastobethere,andwhenthedooropenedandheheardhisslowmusicalvoicelendingcharmtosomeinsincereapology,heceasedtofeelbored.
Butatdinnerhecouldnoteatanything.Plateafterplatewentawayuntasted.
LadyNarboroughkeptscoldinghimforwhatshecalled“aninsulttopoorAdolphe,whoinventedthemenuspeciallyforyou,”andnowandthenLordHenrylookedacrossathim,wonderingathissilenceandabstractedmanner.
Fromtimetotimethebutlerfilledhisglasswithchampagne.
Hedrankeagerly,andhisthirstseemedtoincrease.
“Dorian,”saidLordHenryatlast,asthechaud-froidwasbeinghandedround,“whatisthematterwithyouto-night?Youarequiteoutofsorts.”
“Ibelieveheisinlove,”criedLadyNarborough,“andthatheisafraidtotellmeforfearIshouldbejealous.Heisquiteright.Icertainlyshould.”
“DearLadyNarborough,”murmuredDorian,smiling,“Ihavenotbeeninloveforawholeweek—not,infact,sinceMadamedeFerrollefttown.”
“Howyoumencanfallinlovewiththatwoman!”exclaimedtheoldlady.“Ireallycannotunderstandit.”
“Itissimplybecausesheremembersyouwhenyouwerealittlegirl,LadyNarborough,”saidLordHenry.“Sheistheonelinkbetweenusandyourshortfrocks.”
“Shedoesnotremembermyshortfrocksatall,LordHenry.ButIrememberherverywellatViennathirtyyearsago,andhowdecolleteeshewasthen.”
“Sheisstilldecolletee,”heanswered,takinganoliveinhislongfingers;“andwhensheisinaverysmartgownshelookslikeaneditiondeluxeofabadFrenchnovel.
Sheisreallywonderful,andfullofsurprises.
Hercapacityforfamilyaffectionisextraordinary.
Whenherthirdhusbanddied,herhairturnedquitegoldfromgrief.”
“Howcanyou,Harry!”criedDorian.
“Itisamostromanticexplanation,”laughedthehostess.“Butherthirdhusband,LordHenry!Youdon’tmeantosayFerrolisthefourth?”
“Certainly,LadyNarborough.”
“Idon’tbelieveawordofit.”
“Well,askMr.Gray.Heisoneofhermostintimatefriends.”
“Isittrue,Mr.Gray?”
“Sheassuresmeso,LadyNarborough,”saidDorian.
“Iaskedherwhether,likeMargueritedeNavarre,shehadtheirheartsembalmedandhungathergirdle.
Shetoldmeshedidn’t,becausenoneofthemhadhadanyheartsatall.”
“Fourhusbands!Uponmywordthatistropdezele.”
“Tropd’audace,Itellher,”saidDorian.
“Oh!sheisaudaciousenoughforanything,mydear.AndwhatisFerrollike?Idon’tknowhim.”
“Thehusbandsofverybeautifulwomenbelongtothecriminalclasses,”saidLordHenry,sippinghiswine.
LadyNarboroughhithimwithherfan.“LordHenry,Iamnotatallsurprisedthattheworldsaysthatyouareextremelywicked.”
“Butwhatworldsaysthat?”askedLordHenry,elevatinghiseyebrows.“Itcanonlybethenextworld.ThisworldandIareonexcellentterms.”
“EverybodyIknowsaysyouareverywicked,”criedtheoldlady,shakingherhead.
LordHenrylookedseriousforsomemoments.
“Itisperfectlymonstrous,”hesaid,atlast,“thewaypeoplegoaboutnowadayssayingthingsagainstonebehindone’sbackthatareabsolutelyandentirelytrue.”
“Isn’theincorrigible?”criedDorian,leaningforwardinhischair.
“Ihopeso,”saidhishostess,laughing.“Butreally,ifyouallworshipMadamedeFerrolinthisridiculousway,Ishallhavetomarryagainsoastobeinthefashion.”
“Youwillnevermarryagain,LadyNarborough,”brokeinLordHenry.“Youwerefartoohappy.
Whenawomanmarriesagain,itisbecauseshedetestedherfirsthusband.
Whenamanmarriesagain,itisbecauseheadoredhisfirstwife.Womentrytheirluck;menrisktheirs.”
“Narboroughwasn’tperfect,”criedtheoldlady.
“Ifhehadbeen,youwouldnothavelovedhim,mydearlady,”wastherejoinder.“Womenloveusforourdefects.
Ifwehaveenoughofthem,theywillforgiveuseverything,evenourintellects.
Youwillneveraskmetodinneragainaftersayingthis,Iamafraid,LadyNarborough,butitisquitetrue.”
“Ofcourseitistrue,LordHenry.Ifwewomendidnotloveyouforyourdefects,wherewouldyouallbe?Notoneofyouwouldeverbemarried.
Youwouldbeasetofunfortunatebachelors.
Not,however,thatthatwouldalteryoumuch.
Nowadaysallthemarriedmenlivelikebachelors,andallthebachelorslikemarriedmen.”
“Findesiecle,”murmuredLordHenry.
“Finduglobe,”answeredhishostess.
“Iwishitwerefinduglobe,”saidDorianwithasigh.“Lifeisagreatdisappointment.”
“Ah,mydear,”criedLadyNarborough,puttingonhergloves,“don’ttellmethatyouhaveexhaustedlife.
Whenamansaysthatoneknowsthatlifehasexhaustedhim.
LordHenryisverywicked,andIsometimeswishthatIhadbeen;butyouaremadetobegood—youlooksogood.Imustfindyouanicewife.
LordHenry,don’tyouthinkthatMr.Grayshouldgetmarried?”
“Iamalwaystellinghimso,LadyNarborough,”saidLordHenrywithabow.
“Well,wemustlookoutforasuitablematchforhim.IshallgothroughDebrettcarefullyto-nightanddrawoutalistofalltheeligibleyoungladies.”
“Withtheirages,LadyNarborough?”askedDorian.
“Ofcourse,withtheirages,slightlyedited.Butnothingmustbedoneinahurry.IwantittobewhatTheMorningPostcallsasuitablealliance,andIwantyoubothtobehappy.”
“Whatnonsensepeopletalkabouthappymarriages!”exclaimedLordHenry.“Amancanbehappywithanywoman,aslongashedoesnotloveher.”
“Ah!whatacynicyouare!”
criedtheoldlady,pushingbackherchairandnoddingtoLadyRuxton.
“Youmustcomeanddinewithmesoonagain.
Youarereallyanadmirabletonic,muchbetterthanwhatSirAndrewprescribesforme.
Youmusttellmewhatpeopleyouwouldliketomeet,though.
Iwantittobeadelightfulgathering.”
“Ilikemenwhohaveafutureandwomenwhohaveapast,”heanswered.“Ordoyouthinkthatwouldmakeitapetticoatparty?”
“Ifearso,”shesaid,laughing,asshestoodup.“Athousandpardons,mydearLadyRuxton,”sheadded,“Ididn’tseeyouhadn’tfinishedyourcigarette.”
“Nevermind,LadyNarborough.Ismokeagreatdealtoomuch.Iamgoingtolimitmyself,forthefuture.”
“Praydon’t,LadyRuxton,”saidLordHenry.“Moderationisafatalthing.Enoughisasbadasameal.Morethanenoughisasgoodasafeast.”
LadyRuxtonglancedathimcuriously.“Youmustcomeandexplainthattomesomeafternoon,LordHenry.Itsoundsafascinatingtheory,”shemurmured,asshesweptoutoftheroom.
“Now,mindyoudon’tstaytoolongoveryourpoliticsandscandal,”criedLadyNarboroughfromthedoor.“Ifyoudo,wearesuretosquabbleupstairs.”
Themenlaughed,andMr.Chapmangotupsolemnlyfromthefootofthetableandcameuptothetop.
DorianGraychangedhisseatandwentandsatbyLordHenry.
Mr.ChapmanbegantotalkinaloudvoiceaboutthesituationintheHouseofCommons.Heguffawedathisadversaries.
Theworddoctrinaire—wordfullofterrortotheBritishmind—reappearedfromtimetotimebetweenhisexplosions.
Analliterativeprefixservedasanornamentoforatory.
HehoistedtheUnionJackonthepinnaclesofthought.
Theinheritedstupidityoftherace—soundEnglishcommonsensehejoviallytermedit—wasshowntobetheproperbulwarkforsociety.
AsmilecurvedLordHenry’slips,andheturnedroundandlookedatDorian.
“Areyoubetter,mydearfellow?”heasked.“Youseemedratheroutofsortsatdinner.”
“Iamquitewell,Harry.Iamtired.Thatisall.”
“Youwerecharminglastnight.Thelittleduchessisquitedevotedtoyou.ShetellsmesheisgoingdowntoSelby.”
“Shehaspromisedtocomeonthetwentieth.”
“IsMonmouthtobethere,too?”
“Oh,yes,Harry.”
“Heboresmedreadfully,almostasmuchasheboresher.
Sheisveryclever,toocleverforawoman.
Shelackstheindefinablecharmofweakness.
Itisthefeetofclaythatmakethegoldoftheimageprecious.
Herfeetareverypretty,buttheyarenotfeetofclay.Whiteporcelainfeet,ifyoulike.
Theyhavebeenthroughthefire,andwhatfiredoesnotdestroy,ithardens.Shehashadexperiences.”
“Howlonghasshebeenmarried?”askedDorian.
“Aneternity,shetellsme.Ibelieve,accordingtothepeerage,itistenyears,buttenyearswithMonmouthmusthavebeenlikeeternity,withtimethrownin.Whoelseiscoming?”
“Oh,theWilloughbys,LordRugbyandhiswife,ourhostess,GeoffreyClouston,theusualset.IhaveaskedLordGrotrian.”
“Ilikehim,”saidLordHenry.“Agreatmanypeopledon’t,butIfindhimcharming.
Heatonesforbeingoccasionallysomewhatoverdressedbybeingalwaysabsolutelyover-educated.Heisaverymoderntype.”
“Idon’tknowifhewillbeabletocome,Harry.HemayhavetogotoMonteCarlowithhisfather.”
“Ah!whatanuisancepeople’speopleare!Tryandmakehimcome.Bytheway,Dorian,youranoffveryearlylastnight.Youleftbeforeeleven.Whatdidyoudoafterwards?Didyougostraighthome?”
Dorianglancedathimhurriedlyandfrowned.
“No,Harry,”hesaidatlast,“Ididnotgethometillnearlythree.”
“Didyougototheclub?”
“Yes,”heanswered.Thenhebithislip.“No,Idon’tmeanthat.Ididn’tgototheclub.Iwalkedabout.
IforgetwhatIdid....Howinquisitiveyouare,Harry!
Youalwayswanttoknowwhatonehasbeendoing.
IalwayswanttoforgetwhatIhavebeendoing.
Icameinathalf-pasttwo,ifyouwishtoknowtheexacttime.
Ihadleftmylatch-keyathome,andmyservanthadtoletmein.
Ifyouwantanycorroborativeevidenceonthesubject,youcanaskhim.”
LordHenryshruggedhisshoulders.“Mydearfellow,asifIcared!Letusgouptothedrawing-room.Nosherry,thankyou,Mr.Chapman.Somethinghashappenedtoyou,Dorian.Tellmewhatitis.Youarenotyourselfto-night.”
“Don’tmindme,Harry.Iamirritable,andoutoftemper.
Ishallcomeroundandseeyouto-morrow,ornextday.MakemyexcusestoLadyNarborough.Ishan’tgoupstairs.Ishallgohome.Imustgohome.”
“Allright,Dorian.IdaresayIshallseeyouto-morrowattea-time.Theduchessiscoming.”
“Iwilltrytobethere,Harry,”hesaid,leavingtheroom.
Ashedrovebacktohisownhouse,hewasconsciousthatthesenseofterrorhethoughthehadstrangledhadcomebacktohim.
LordHenry’scasualquestioninghadmadehimlosehisnervesforthemoment,andhewantedhisnervestill.
Thingsthatweredangeroushadtobedestroyed.Hewinced.
Hehatedtheideaofeventouchingthem.
Yetithadtobedone.Herealizedthat,andwhenhehadlockedthedoorofhislibrary,heopenedthesecretpressintowhichhehadthrustBasilHallward’scoatandbag.Ahugefirewasblazing.Hepiledanotherlogonit.
Thesmellofthesingeingclothesandburningleatherwashorrible.
Ittookhimthree-quartersofanhourtoconsumeeverything.
Attheendhefeltfaintandsick,andhavinglitsomeAlgerianpastillesinapiercedcopperbrazier,hebathedhishandsandforeheadwithacoolmusk-scentedvinegar.
Suddenlyhestarted.Hiseyesgrewstrangelybright,andhegnawednervouslyathisunderlip.
BetweentwoofthewindowsstoodalargeFlorentinecabinet,madeoutofebonyandinlaidwithivoryandbluelapis.
Hewatcheditasthoughitwereathingthatcouldfascinateandmakeafraid,asthoughitheldsomethingthathelongedforandyetalmostloathed.Hisbreathquickened.Amadcravingcameoverhim.
Helitacigaretteandthenthrewitaway.
Hiseyelidsdroopedtillthelongfringedlashesalmosttouchedhischeek.Buthestillwatchedthecabinet.
Atlasthegotupfromthesofaonwhichhehadbeenlying,wentovertoit,andhavingunlockedit,touchedsomehiddenspring.Atriangulardrawerpassedslowlyout.
Hisfingersmovedinstinctivelytowardsit,dippedin,andclosedonsomething.
ItwasasmallChineseboxofblackandgold-dustlacquer,elaboratelywrought,thesidespatternedwithcurvedwaves,andthesilkencordshungwithroundcrystalsandtasselledinplaitedmetalthreads.Heopenedit.
Insidewasagreenpaste,waxyinlustre,theodourcuriouslyheavyandpersistent.
Hehesitatedforsomemoments,withastrangelyimmobilesmileuponhisface.
Thenshivering,thoughtheatmosphereoftheroomwasterriblyhot,hedrewhimselfupandglancedattheclock.Itwastwentyminutestotwelve.
Heputtheboxback,shuttingthecabinetdoorsashedidso,andwentintohisbedroom.
Asmidnightwasstrikingbronzeblowsupontheduskyair,DorianGray,dressedcommonly,andwithamufflerwrappedroundhisthroat,creptquietlyoutofhishouse.
InBondStreethefoundahansomwithagoodhorse.
Hehaileditandinalowvoicegavethedriveranaddress.
Themanshookhishead.“Itistoofarforme,”hemuttered.
“Hereisasovereignforyou,”saidDorian.“Youshallhaveanotherifyoudrivefast.”
“Allright,sir,”answeredtheman,“youwillbethereinanhour,”andafterhisfarehadgotinheturnedhishorseroundanddroverapidlytowardstheriver.
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