Портрет Дориана Грея
Chapter 8
Itwasprettyofher. YoumustdomeadrawingofSibyl,Basil. Ishouldliketohavesomethingmoreofherthanthememoryofafewkissesandsomebrokenpatheticwords."
"Iwilltryanddosomething,Dorian,ifitwouldpleaseyou. Butyoumustcomeandsittomeyourselfagain. Ican’tgetonwithoutyou."
"Icanneversittoyouagain,Basil. Itisimpossible! "heexclaimed,startingback.
Thepainterstaredathim. "Mydearboy,whatnonsense!"hecried. "Doyoumeantosayyoudon’tlikewhatIdidofyou? Whereisit? Whyhaveyoupulledthescreeninfrontofit? Letmelookatit. ItisthebestthingIhaveeverdone. Dotakethescreenaway,Dorian. Itissimplydisgracefulofyourservanthidingmyworklikethat. IfelttheroomlookeddifferentasIcamein."
"Myservanthasnothingtodowithit,Basil. Youdon’timagineIlethimarrangemyroomforme? Hesettlesmyflowersformesometimes—thatisall. No;Ididitmyself. Thelightwastoostrongontheportrait."
"Toostrong! Surelynot,mydearfellow? Itisanadmirableplaceforit. Letmeseeit. "AndHallwardwalkedtowardsthecorneroftheroom.
AcryofterrorbrokefromDorianGray’slips, andherushedbetweenthepainterandthescreen. "Basil,"hesaid,lookingverypale,"youmustnotlookatit. Idon’twishyouto."
"Notlookatmyownwork! youarenotserious. Whyshouldn’tIlookatit? "exclaimedHallward,laughing.