Портрет Дориана Грея

           "Iamafraidso,"rejoinedLordHenry. "Hegotthewholechargeofshotinhischest. Hemusthavediedalmostinstantaneously. Come; letusgohome." 

           Theywalkedsidebysideinthedirectionoftheavenuefornearlyfiftyyardswithoutspeaking. ThenDorianlookedatLordHenry,andsaid,withaheavysigh,"Itisabadomen,Harry,averybadomen." 

           "Whatis? "askedLordHenry. "Oh! thisaccident,Isuppose. Mydearfellow,itcan’tbehelped. Itwastheman’sownfault. Whydidhegetinfrontoftheguns? Besides,it’snothingtous. ItisratherawkwardforGeoffrey,ofcourse. Itdoesnotdotopepperbeaters. Itmakespeoplethinkthatoneisawildshot. AndGeoffreyisnot; heshootsverystraight. Butthereisnousetalkingaboutthematter." 

           Dorianshookhishead. "Itisabadomen,Harry. Ifeelasifsomethinghorribleweregoingtohappentosomeofus. Tomyself,perhaps,"headded,passinghishandoverhiseyes,withagestureofpain. 

           Theeldermanlaughed. "Theonlyhorriblethingintheworldisennui,Dorian. Thatistheonesinforwhichthereisnoforgiveness. Butwearenotlikelytosufferfromit,unlessthesefellowskeepchatteringaboutthisthingatdinner. Imusttellthemthatthesubjectistobetabooed. Asforomens,thereisnosuchthingasanomen. Destinydoesnotsendusheralds. Sheistoowiseortoocruelforthat. Besides,whatonearthcouldhappentoyou,Dorian? Youhaveeverythingintheworldthatamancanwant. Thereisnoonewhowouldnotbedelightedtochangeplaceswithyou." 

           "ThereisnoonewithwhomIwouldnotchangeplaces,Harry. Don’tlaughlikethat. Iamtellingyouthetruth.