Портрет Доріана Грея

           Whatsortoflifewouldhisbe,ifdayandnight,shadowsofhiscrimeweretopeerathimfromsilentcorners,tomockhimfromsecretplaces,towhisperinhisearashesatatthefeast,towakehimwithicyfingersashelayasleep! Asthethoughtcreptthroughhisbrain,hegrewpalewithterror,andtheairseemedtohimtohavebecomesuddenlycolder. Oh!inwhatawildhourofmadnesshehadkilledhisfriend! Howghastlythemerememoryofthescene! Hesawitallagain. Eachhideousdetailcamebacktohimwithaddedhorror. OutoftheblackcaveofTime,terribleandswathedinscarlet,rosetheimageofhissin. WhenLordHenrycameinatsixo’clock,hefoundhimcryingasonewhoseheartwillbreak. 

           Itwasnottillthethirddaythatheventuredtogoout. Therewassomethingintheclear,pine-scentedairofthatwintermorningthatseemedtobringhimbackhisjoyousnessandhisardourforlife. Butitwasnotmerelythephysicalconditionsofenvironmentthathadcausedthechange. Hisownnaturehadrevoltedagainsttheexcessofanguishthathadsoughttomaimandmartheperfectionofitscalm. Withsubtleandfinely-wroughttemperamentsitisalwaysso. Theirstrongpassionsmusteitherbruiseorbend. Theyeitherslaytheman,orthemselvesdie. Shallowsorrowsandshallowlovesliveon. Thelovesandsorrowsthataregreataredestroyedbytheirownplenitude. Besides,hehadconvincedhimselfthathehadbeenthevictimofaterror-strickenimagination,andlookedbacknowonhisfearswithsomethingofpityandnotalittleofcontempt. 

           AfterbreakfasthewalkedwiththeDuchessforanhourinthegarden,andthendroveacrosstheparktojointheshooting-party. Thecrispfrostlaylikesaltuponthegrass. Theskywasaninvertedcupofbluemetal. Athinfilmoficeborderedtheflatreed-grownlake.