Портрет Доріана Грея

           ThesamelookofpitycameintoDorianGray’seyes. Thenhestretchedouthishand,tookapieceofpaper,andwrotesomethingonit. Hereaditovertwice,foldeditcarefully,andpusheditacrossthetable. Havingdonethis,hegotup,andwentovertothewindow. 

           Campbelllookedathiminsurprise,andthentookupthepaper,andopenedit. Ashereadit,hisfacebecameghastlypale,andhefellbackinhischair. Ahorriblesenseofsicknesscameoverhim. Hefeltasifhisheartwasbeatingitselftodeathinsomeemptyhollow. 

           Aftertwoorthreeminutesofterriblesilence,Dorianturnedround,andcameandstoodbehindhim,puttinghishanduponhisshoulder. 

           "Iamsosorryforyou,Alan,"hemurmured,"butyouleavemenoalternative. Ihavealetterwrittenalready. Hereitis. Youseetheaddress. Ifyoudon’thelpme,Imustsendit.Ifyoudon’thelpme,Iwillsendit. Youknowwhattheresultwillbe. Butyouaregoingtohelpme.Itisimpossibleforyoutorefusenow. Itriedtospareyou. Youwilldomethejusticetoadmitthat. Youwerestern,harsh,offensive.Youtreatedmeasnomanhaseverdaredtotreatme—nolivingman,atanyrate. Iboreitall. Nowitisformetodictateterms." 

           Campbellburiedhisfaceinhishands,andashudderpassedthroughhim. 

           "Yes,itismyturntodictateterms,Alan. Youknowwhattheyare.Thethingisquitesimple. Come,don’tworkyourselfintothisfever. Thethinghastobedone. Faceit,anddoit."