Портрет Доріана Грея

           "Twenty-seven,Ibelieve. Itisonthegrandtier. Youwillseehernameonthedoor. ButIamsorryyouwon’tcomeanddine." 

           "Idon’tfeeluptoit,"saidDorian,listlessly. "ButIamawfullyobligedtoyouforallthatyouhavesaidtome. Youarecertainlymybestfriend. Noonehaseverunderstoodmeasyouhave." 

           "Weareonlyatthebeginningofourfriendship,Dorian,"answeredLordHenry,shakinghimbythehand. "Good-bye. Ishallseeyoubeforenine-thirty,Ihope. Remember,Pattiissinging." 

           Asheclosedthedoorbehindhim,DorianGraytouchedthebell,andinafewminutesVictorappearedwiththelampsanddrewtheblindsdown. Hewaitedimpatientlyforhimtogo. Themanseemedtotakeaninterminabletimeovereverything. 

           Assoonashehadleft,herushedtothescreen,anddrewitback. No;therewasnofurtherchangeinthepicture. IthadreceivedthenewsofSibylVane’sdeathbeforehehadknownofithimself. Itwasconsciousoftheeventsoflifeastheyoccurred. Theviciouscrueltythatmarredthefinelinesofthemouthhad,nodoubt,appearedattheverymomentthatthegirlhaddrunkthepoison,whateveritwas. Orwasitindifferenttoresults? Diditmerelytakecognizanceofwhatpassedwithinthesoul? Hewondered,andhopedthatsomedayhewouldseethechangetakingplacebeforehisveryeyes, shudderingashehopedit. 

           PoorSibyl! whataromanceithadallbeen! Shehadoftenmimickeddeathonthestage. ThenDeathhimselfhadtouchedher,andtakenherwithhim. Howhadsheplayedthatdreadfullastscene? Hadshecursedhim,asshedied?