English
Acoldrainbegantofall,andtheblurredstreet-lampslookedghastlyinthedrippingmist.
Thepublic-houseswerejustclosing,anddimmenandwomenwereclusteringinbrokengroupsroundtheirdoors.
Fromsomeofthebarscamethesoundofhorriblelaughter.
Inothers,drunkardsbrawledandscreamed.
Lyingbackinthehansom,withhishatpulledoverhisforehead,DorianGraywatchedwithlistlesseyesthesordidshameofthegreatcity,andnowandthenherepeatedtohimselfthewordsthatLordHenryhadsaidtohimonthefirstdaytheyhadmet,“Tocurethesoulbymeansofthesenses,andthesensesbymeansofthesoul.”Yes,thatwasthesecret.
Hehadoftentriedit,andwouldtryitagainnow.
Therewereopiumdenswhereonecouldbuyoblivion,densofhorrorwherethememoryofoldsinscouldbedestroyedbythemadnessofsinsthatwerenew.
Themoonhunglowintheskylikeayellowskull.
Fromtimetotimeahugemisshapencloudstretchedalongarmacrossandhidit.
Thegas-lampsgrewfewer,andthestreetsmorenarrowandgloomy.
Oncethemanlosthiswayandhadtodrivebackhalfamile.
Asteamrosefromthehorseasitsplashedupthepuddles.
Thesidewindowsofthehansomwerecloggedwithagrey-flannelmist.
“Tocurethesoulbymeansofthesenses,andthesensesbymeansofthesoul!”Howthewordsranginhisears!Hissoul,certainly,wassicktodeath.
Wasittruethatthesensescouldcureit?Innocentbloodhadbeenspilled.Whatcouldatoneforthat?Ah!
forthattherewasnoatonement;butthoughforgivenesswasimpossible,forgetfulnesswaspossiblestill,andhewasdeterminedtoforget,tostampthethingout,tocrushitasonewouldcrushtheadderthathadstungone.
Indeed,whatrighthadBasiltohavespokentohimashehaddone?Whohadmadehimajudgeoverothers?
Hehadsaidthingsthatweredreadful,horrible,nottobeendured.
Onandonploddedthehansom,goingslower,itseemedtohim,ateachstep.
Hethrustupthetrapandcalledtothemantodrivefaster.
Thehideoushungerforopiumbegantognawathim.
Histhroatburnedandhisdelicatehandstwitchednervouslytogether.
Hestruckatthehorsemadlywithhisstick.Thedriverlaughedandwhippedup.
Helaughedinanswer,andthemanwassilent.
Thewayseemedinterminable,andthestreetsliketheblackwebofsomesprawlingspider.Themonotonybecameunbearable,andasthemistthickened,hefeltafraid.
Thentheypassedbylonelybrickfields.Thefogwaslighterhere,andhecouldseethestrange,bottle-shapedkilnswiththeirorange,fanliketonguesoffire.
Adogbarkedastheywentby,andfarawayinthedarknesssomewanderingsea-gullscreamed.
Thehorsestumbledinarut,thenswervedasideandbrokeintoagallop.
Aftersometimetheylefttheclayroadandrattledagainoverrough-pavenstreets.
Mostofthewindowsweredark,butnowandthenfantasticshadowsweresilhouettedagainstsomelamplitblind.Hewatchedthemcuriously.
Theymovedlikemonstrousmarionettesandmadegestureslikelivethings.Hehatedthem.Adullragewasinhisheart.
Astheyturnedacorner,awomanyelledsomethingatthemfromanopendoor,andtwomenranafterthehansomforaboutahundredyards.Thedriverbeatatthemwithhiswhip.
Itissaidthatpassionmakesonethinkinacircle.
CertainlywithhideousiterationthebittenlipsofDorianGrayshapedandreshapedthosesubtlewordsthatdealtwithsoulandsense,tillhehadfoundinthemthefullexpression,asitwere,ofhismood,andjustified,byintellectualapproval,passionsthatwithoutsuchjustificationwouldstillhavedominatedhistemper.
Fromcelltocellofhisbraincrepttheonethought;andthewilddesiretolive,mostterribleofallman’sappetites,quickenedintoforceeachtremblingnerveandfibre.
Uglinessthathadoncebeenhatefultohimbecauseitmadethingsreal,becamedeartohimnowforthatveryreason.Uglinesswastheonereality.
Thecoarsebrawl,theloathsomeden,thecrudeviolenceofdisorderedlife,theveryvilenessofthiefandoutcast,weremorevivid,intheirintenseactualityofimpression,thanallthegraciousshapesofart,thedreamyshadowsofsong.
Theywerewhatheneededforforgetfulness.Inthreedayshewouldbefree.
Suddenlythemandrewupwithajerkatthetopofadarklane.
Overthelowroofsandjaggedchimney-stacksofthehousesrosetheblackmastsofships.
Wreathsofwhitemistclunglikeghostlysailstotheyards.
“Somewhereabouthere,sir,ain’tit?”heaskedhuskilythroughthetrap.
Dorianstartedandpeeredround.“Thiswilldo,”heanswered,andhavinggotouthastilyandgiventhedrivertheextrafarehehadpromisedhim,hewalkedquicklyinthedirectionofthequay.
Hereandtherealanterngleamedatthesternofsomehugemerchantman.
Thelightshookandsplinteredinthepuddles.
Aredglarecamefromanoutward-boundsteamerthatwascoaling.
Theslimypavementlookedlikeawetmackintosh.
Hehurriedontowardstheleft,glancingbacknowandthentoseeifhewasbeingfollowed.
Inaboutsevenoreightminuteshereachedasmallshabbyhousethatwaswedgedinbetweentwogauntfactories.Inoneofthetop-windowsstoodalamp.Hestoppedandgaveapeculiarknock.
Afteralittletimeheheardstepsinthepassageandthechainbeingunhooked.
Thedooropenedquietly,andhewentinwithoutsayingawordtothesquatmisshapenfigurethatflatteneditselfintotheshadowashepassed.
Attheendofthehallhungatatteredgreencurtainthatswayedandshookinthegustywindwhichhadfollowedhiminfromthestreet.
Hedraggeditasideandenteredalonglowroomwhichlookedasifithadoncebeenathird-ratedancing-saloon.
Shrillflaringgas-jets,dulledanddistortedinthefly-blownmirrorsthatfacedthem,wererangedroundthewalls.
Greasyreflectorsofribbedtinbackedthem,makingquiveringdisksoflight.
Thefloorwascoveredwithochre-colouredsawdust,trampledhereandthereintomud,andstainedwithdarkringsofspilledliquor.
SomeMalayswerecrouchingbyalittlecharcoalstove,playingwithbonecountersandshowingtheirwhiteteethastheychattered.
Inonecorner,withhisheadburiedinhisarms,asailorsprawledoveratable,andbythetawdrilypaintedbarthatranacrossonecompletesidestoodtwohaggardwomen,mockinganoldmanwhowasbrushingthesleevesofhiscoatwithanexpressionofdisgust.
“Hethinkshe’sgotredantsonhim,”laughedoneofthem,asDorianpassedby.
Themanlookedatherinterrorandbegantowhimper.
Attheendoftheroomtherewasalittlestaircase,leadingtoadarkenedchamber.
AsDorianhurriedupitsthreericketysteps,theheavyodourofopiummethim.
Heheavedadeepbreath,andhisnostrilsquiveredwithpleasure.
Whenheentered,ayoungmanwithsmoothyellowhair,whowasbendingoveralamplightingalongthinpipe,lookedupathimandnoddedinahesitatingmanner.
“Youhere,Adrian?”mutteredDorian.
“WhereelseshouldIbe?”heanswered,listlessly.“Noneofthechapswillspeaktomenow.”
“IthoughtyouhadleftEngland.”
“Darlingtonisnotgoingtodoanything.Mybrotherpaidthebillatlast.
Georgedoesn’tspeaktomeeither....Idon’tcare,”headdedwithasigh.
“Aslongasonehasthisstuff,onedoesn’twantfriends.IthinkIhavehadtoomanyfriends.”
Dorianwincedandlookedroundatthegrotesquethingsthatlayinsuchfantasticposturesontheraggedmattresses.
Thetwistedlimbs,thegapingmouths,thestaringlustrelesseyes,fascinatedhim.
Heknewinwhatstrangeheavenstheyweresuffering,andwhatdullhellswereteachingthemthesecretofsomenewjoy.Theywerebetteroffthanhewas.Hewasprisonedinthought.
Memory,likeahorriblemalady,waseatinghissoulaway.
FromtimetotimeheseemedtoseetheeyesofBasilHallwardlookingathim.Yethefelthecouldnotstay.
ThepresenceofAdrianSingletontroubledhim.
Hewantedtobewherenoonewouldknowwhohewas.Hewantedtoescapefromhimself.
“Iamgoingontotheotherplace,”hesaidafterapause.
“Onthewharf?”
“Yes.”
“Thatmad-catissuretobethere.Theywon’thaveherinthisplacenow.”
Dorianshruggedhisshoulders.“Iamsickofwomenwholoveone.Womenwhohateonearemuchmoreinteresting.Besides,thestuffisbetter.”
“Muchthesame.”
“Ilikeitbetter.Comeandhavesomethingtodrink.Imusthavesomething.”
“Idon’twantanything,”murmuredtheyoungman.
“Nevermind.”
AdrianSingletonroseupwearilyandfollowedDoriantothebar.
Ahalf-caste,inaraggedturbanandashabbyulster,grinnedahideousgreetingashethrustabottleofbrandyandtwotumblersinfrontofthem.
Thewomensidledupandbegantochatter.
DorianturnedhisbackonthemandsaidsomethinginalowvoicetoAdrianSingleton.
Acrookedsmile,likeaMalaycrease,writhedacrossthefaceofoneofthewomen.“Weareveryproudto-night,”shesneered.
“ForGod’ssakedon’ttalktome,”criedDorian,stampinghisfootontheground.“Whatdoyouwant?Money?Hereitis.Don’tevertalktomeagain.”
Tworedsparksflashedforamomentinthewoman’ssoddeneyes,thenflickeredoutandleftthemdullandglazed.
Shetossedherheadandrakedthecoinsoffthecounterwithgreedyfingers.Hercompanionwatchedherenviously.
“It’snouse,”sighedAdrianSingleton.“Idon’tcaretogoback.Whatdoesitmatter?Iamquitehappyhere.”
“Youwillwritetomeifyouwantanything,won’tyou?”saidDorian,afterapause.
“Perhaps.”
“Goodnight,then.”
“Goodnight,”answeredtheyoungman,passingupthestepsandwipinghisparchedmouthwithahandkerchief.
Dorianwalkedtothedoorwithalookofpaininhisface.
Ashedrewthecurtainaside,ahideouslaughbrokefromthepaintedlipsofthewomanwhohadtakenhismoney.“Theregoesthedevil’sbargain!”shehiccoughed,inahoarsevoice.
“Curseyou!”heanswered,“don’tcallmethat.”
Shesnappedherfingers.“PrinceCharmingiswhatyouliketobecalled,ain’tit?”sheyelledafterhim.
Thedrowsysailorleapedtohisfeetasshespoke,andlookedwildlyround.Thesoundoftheshuttingofthehalldoorfellonhisear.Herushedoutasifinpursuit.
DorianGrayhurriedalongthequaythroughthedrizzlingrain.
HismeetingwithAdrianSingletonhadstrangelymovedhim,andhewonderediftheruinofthatyounglifewasreallytobelaidathisdoor,asBasilHallwardhadsaidtohimwithsuchinfamyofinsult.
Hebithislip,andforafewsecondshiseyesgrewsad.
Yet,afterall,whatdiditmattertohim?
One’sdaysweretoobrieftotaketheburdenofanother’serrorsonone’sshoulders.
Eachmanlivedhisownlifeandpaidhisownpriceforlivingit.
Theonlypitywasonehadtopaysooftenforasinglefault.
Onehadtopayoverandoveragain,indeed.
Inherdealingswithman,destinyneverclosedheraccounts.
Therearemoments,psychologiststellus,whenthepassionforsin,orforwhattheworldcallssin,sodominatesanaturethateveryfibreofthebody,aseverycellofthebrain,seemstobeinstinctwithfearfulimpulses.
Menandwomenatsuchmomentslosethefreedomoftheirwill.
Theymovetotheirterribleendasautomatonsmove.
Choiceistakenfromthem,andconscienceiseitherkilled,or,ifitlivesatall,livesbuttogiverebellionitsfascinationanddisobedienceitscharm.
Forallsins,astheologianswearynotofremindingus,aresinsofdisobedience.
Whenthathighspirit,thatmorningstarofevil,fellfromheaven,itwasasarebelthathefell.
Callous,concentratedonevil,withstainedmind,andsoulhungryforrebellion,DorianGrayhastenedon,quickeninghisstepashewent,butashedartedasideintoadimarchway,thathadservedhimoftenasashortcuttotheill-famedplacewherehewasgoing,hefelthimselfsuddenlyseizedfrombehind,andbeforehehadtimetodefendhimself,hewasthrustbackagainstthewall,withabrutalhandroundhisthroat.
Hestruggledmadlyforlife,andbyaterribleeffortwrenchedthetighteningfingersaway.
Inasecondheheardtheclickofarevolver,andsawthegleamofapolishedbarrel,pointingstraightathishead,andtheduskyformofashort,thick-setmanfacinghim.
“Whatdoyouwant?”hegasped.
“Keepquiet,”saidtheman.“Ifyoustir,Ishootyou.”
“Youaremad.WhathaveIdonetoyou?”
“YouwreckedthelifeofSibylVane,”wastheanswer,“andSibylVanewasmysister.Shekilledherself.Iknowit.Herdeathisatyourdoor.IsworeIwouldkillyouinreturn.ForyearsIhavesoughtyou.Ihadnoclue,notrace.
Thetwopeoplewhocouldhavedescribedyouweredead.
Iknewnothingofyoubutthepetnamesheusedtocallyou.Ihearditto-nightbychance.
MakeyourpeacewithGod,forto-nightyouaregoingtodie.”
DorianGraygrewsickwithfear.“Ineverknewher,”hestammered.“Ineverheardofher.Youaremad.”
“Youhadbetterconfessyoursin,forassureasIamJamesVane,youaregoingtodie.”Therewasahorriblemoment.Doriandidnotknowwhattosayordo.“Downonyourknees!”growledtheman.
“Igiveyouoneminutetomakeyourpeace—nomore.
Igoonboardto-nightforIndia,andImustdomyjobfirst.Oneminute.That’sall.”
Dorian’sarmsfelltohisside.Paralysedwithterror,hedidnotknowwhattodo.
Suddenlyawildhopeflashedacrosshisbrain.“Stop,”hecried.
“Howlongagoisitsinceyoursisterdied?Quick,tellme!”
“Eighteenyears,”saidtheman.“Whydoyouaskme?Whatdoyearsmatter?”
“Eighteenyears,”laughedDorianGray,withatouchoftriumphinhisvoice.“Eighteenyears!Setmeunderthelampandlookatmyface!”
JamesVanehesitatedforamoment,notunderstandingwhatwasmeant.ThenheseizedDorianGrayanddraggedhimfromthearchway.
Dimandwaveringaswasthewind-blownlight,yetitservedtoshowhimthehideouserror,asitseemed,intowhichhehadfallen,forthefaceofthemanhehadsoughttokillhadallthebloomofboyhood,alltheunstainedpurityofyouth.
Heseemedlittlemorethanaladoftwentysummers,hardlyolder,ifolderindeedatall,thanhissisterhadbeenwhentheyhadpartedsomanyyearsago.
Itwasobviousthatthiswasnotthemanwhohaddestroyedherlife.
Heloosenedhisholdandreeledback.“MyGod!myGod!”hecried,“andIwouldhavemurderedyou!”
DorianGraydrewalongbreath.“Youhavebeenonthebrinkofcommittingaterriblecrime,myman,”hesaid,lookingathimsternly.
“Letthisbeawarningtoyounottotakevengeanceintoyourownhands.”
“Forgiveme,sir,”mutteredJamesVane.“Iwasdeceived.AchancewordIheardinthatdamneddensetmeonthewrongtrack.”
“Youhadbettergohomeandputthatpistolaway,oryoumaygetintotrouble,”saidDorian,turningonhisheelandgoingslowlydownthestreet.
JamesVanestoodonthepavementinhorror.Hewastremblingfromheadtofoot.
Afteralittlewhile,ablackshadowthathadbeencreepingalongthedrippingwallmovedoutintothelightandcameclosetohimwithstealthyfootsteps.
Hefeltahandlaidonhisarmandlookedroundwithastart.
Itwasoneofthewomenwhohadbeendrinkingatthebar.
“Whydidn’tyoukillhim?”shehissedout,puttinghaggardfacequiteclosetohis.
“IknewyouwerefollowinghimwhenyourushedoutfromDaly’s.Youfool!Youshouldhavekilledhim.
Hehaslotsofmoney,andhe’sasbadasbad.”
“HeisnotthemanIamlookingfor,”heanswered,“andIwantnoman’smoney.Iwantaman’slife.
ThemanwhoselifeIwantmustbenearlyfortynow.Thisoneislittlemorethanaboy.
ThankGod,Ihavenotgothisblooduponmyhands.”
Thewomangaveabitterlaugh.“Littlemorethanaboy!”shesneered.“Why,man,it’snighoneighteenyearssincePrinceCharmingmademewhatIam.”
“Youlie!”criedJamesVane.
Sheraisedherhanduptoheaven.“BeforeGodIamtellingthetruth,”shecried.
“BeforeGod?”
“Strikemedumbifitain’tso.Heistheworstonethatcomeshere.
Theysayhehassoldhimselftothedevilforaprettyface.
It’snighoneighteenyearssinceImethim.Hehasn’tchangedmuchsincethen.
Ihave,though,”sheadded,withasicklyleer.
“Youswearthis?”
“Iswearit,”cameinhoarseechofromherflatmouth.“Butdon’tgivemeawaytohim,”shewhined;“Iamafraidofhim.Letmehavesomemoneyformynight’slodging.”
Hebrokefromherwithanoathandrushedtothecornerofthestreet,butDorianGrayhaddisappeared.Whenhelookedback,thewomanhadvanishedalso.
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