Портрет Доріана Грея

           Hehesitatedforsomemoments,withastrangelyimmobilesmileuponhisface. Thenshivering,thoughtheatmosphereoftheroomwasterriblyhot,hedrewhimselfup,andglancedattheclock. Itwastwentyminutestotwelve. Heputtheboxback,shuttingthecabinetdoorsashedidso,andwentintohisbedroom. 

           Asmidnightwasstrikingbronzeblowsupontheduskyair,DorianGraydressedcommonly,andwithamufflerwrappedroundhisthroat,creptquietlyoutofthehouse. InBondStreethefoundahansomwithagoodhorse. Hehailedit,andinalowvoicegavethedriveranaddress. 

           Themanshookhishead. "Itistoofarforme,"hemuttered. 

           "Hereisasovereignforyou,"saidDorian. "Youshallhaveanotherifyoudrivefast." 

           "Allright,sir,"answeredtheman, "youwillbethereinanhour,"andafterhisfarehadgotinheturnedhishorseround,anddroverapidlytowardstheriver.