Портрет Доріана Грея

           Wherehewenttobehardlyknew. Herememberedwanderingthroughdimly-litstreets,pastgauntblack-shadowedarchwaysandevil-lookinghouses. Womenwithhoarsevoicesandharshlaughterhadcalledafterhim. Drunkardshadreeledbycursing,andchatteringtothemselveslikemonstrousapes. Hehadseengrotesquechildrenhuddledupondoorsteps,andheardshrieksandoathsfromgloomycourts. 

           AsthedawnwasjustbreakinghefoundhimselfclosetoCoventGarden. Thedarknesslifted,and,flushedwithfaintfires,theskyholloweditselfintoaperfectpearl. Hugecartsfilledwithnoddingliliesrumbledslowlydownthepolishedemptystreet. Theairwasheavywiththeperfumeoftheflowers,andtheirbeautyseemedtobringhimananodyneforhispain. Hefollowedintothemarket,andwatchedthemenunloadingtheirwaggons. Awhite-smockedcarterofferedhimsomecherries. Hethankedhim,andwonderedwhyherefusedtoacceptanymoneyforthem,andbegantoeatthemlistlessly. Theyhadbeenpluckedatmidnight,andthecoldnessofthemoonhadenteredintothem. Alonglineofboyscarryingcratesofstripedtulips,andofyellowandredroses,defiledinfrontofhim,threadingtheirwaythroughthehugejade-greenpilesofvegetables. Undertheportico,withitsgreysun-bleachedpillars,loiteredatroopofdraggledbareheadedgirls,waitingfortheauctiontobeover. Otherscrowdedroundtheswingingdoorsofthecoffee-houseinthePiazza. Theheavycart-horsesslippedandstampedupontheroughstones,shakingtheirbellsandtrappings.Someofthedriverswerelyingasleeponapileofsacks. Iris-necked,andpink-footed,thepigeonsranaboutpickingupseeds. 

           Afteralittlewhile,hehailedahansom,anddrovehome.