Портрет Доріана Грея

           Shesteppedbackafewpaces,andherlipsseemedtotremble. BasilHallwardleapedtohisfeetandbegantoapplaud. Motionless,andasoneinadream,satDorianGray,gazingather. LordHenrypeeredthroughhisglasses,murmuring,"Charming!charming!" 

           ThescenewasthehallofCapulet’shouse,andRomeoinhispilgrim’sdresshadenteredwithMercutioandhisotherfriends. Theband,suchasitwas,struckupafewbarsofmusic,andthedancebegan. Throughthecrowdofungainly,shabbily-dressedactors,SibylVanemovedlikeacreaturefromafinerworld. Herbodyswayed,whileshedanced,asaplantswaysinthewater. Thecurvesofherthroatwerethecurvesofawhitelily.Herhandsseemedtobemadeofcoolivory. 

           Yetshewascuriouslylistless.SheshowednosignofjoywhenhereyesrestedonRomeo. Thefewwordsshehadtospeak— 

           Goodpilgrim,youdowrongyourhandtoomuch, 

           Whichmannerlydevotionshowsinthis; 

           Forsaintshavehandsthatpilgrims’handsdotouch, 

           Andpalmtopalmisholypalmers’kiss— 

           withthebriefdialoguethatfollows,werespokeninathoroughlyartificialmanner. Thevoicewasexquisite,butfromthepointofviewoftoneitwasabsolutelyfalse. Itwaswrongincolour.Ittookawayallthelifefromtheverse.Itmadethepassionunreal. 

           DorianGraygrewpaleashewatchedher. Hewaspuzzledandanxious.Neitherofhisfriendsdaredtosayanythingtohim.