Портрет Доріана Грея
Preface
SomethingseemedtotellmethatIwasonthevergeofaterriblecrisisinmylife. IhadastrangefeelingthatFatehadinstoreformeexquisitejoysandexquisitesorrows. Igrewafraid,andturnedtoquittheroom. Itwasnotconsciencethatmademedoso;itwasasortofcowardice. Itakenocredittomyselffortryingtoescape."
"Conscienceandcowardicearereallythesamethings,Basil. Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.Thatisall."
"Idon’tbelievethat,Harry,andIdon’tbelieveyoudoeither. However,whateverwasmymotive—anditmayhavebeenpride,forIusedtobeveryproud—Icertainlystruggledtothedoor. There,ofcourse,IstumbledagainstLadyBrandon. ‘Youarenotgoingtorunawaysosoon,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout. Youknowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?"
"Yes;sheisapeacockineverythingbutbeauty,"saidLordHenry, pullingthedaisytobitswithhislong,nervousfingers.
"Icouldnotgetridofher. ShebroughtmeuptoRoyalties,andpeoplewithStarsandGarters,andelderlyladleswithgigantictiarasandparrotnoses. Shespokeofmeasherdearestfriend. Ihadonlymetheroncebefore,butshetookitintoherheadtolioniseme. Ibelievesomepictureofminehadmadeagreatsuccessatthetime,atleasthadbeenchatteredaboutinthepennynewspapers,whichisthenineteenth-centurystandardofimmortality. SuddenlyIfoundmyselffacetofacewiththeyoungmanwhosepersonalityhadsostrangelystirredme. Wewerequiteclose,almosttouching.Oureyesmetagain.
