CHAPTER XII.

rietable. “Youseeyourservantmademequiteathome,Dorian.HegavemeeverythingIwanted,includingyourbestgold-tippedcigarettes.Heisamosthospitablecreature.IlikehimmuchbetterthantheFrenchmanyouusedtohave.WhathasbecomeoftheFrenchman,bythebye?” Dorianshruggedhisshoulders.“IbelievehemarriedLadyRadley’smaid,andhasestablishedherinParisasanEnglishdressmaker.Anglomanieisveryfashionableovertherenow,Ihear.ItseemssillyoftheFrench,doesn’tit?But—doyouknow?—hewasnotatallabadservant.Ineverlikedhim,butIhadnothingtocomplainabout.Oneoftenimaginesthingsthatarequiteabsurd.Hewasreallyverydevotedtomeandseemedquitesorrywhenhewentaway.Haveanotherbrandy-and-soda?Orwouldyoulikehock-and-seltzer?Ialwaystakehock-and-seltzermyself.Thereissuretobesomeinthenextroom.” “Thanks,Iwon’thaveanythingmore,”saidthepainter,takinghiscapandcoatoffandthrowingthemonthebagthathehadplacedinthecorner.“Andnow,mydearfellow,Iwanttospeaktoyouseriously.Don’tfrownlikethat.Youmakeitsomuchmoredifficultforme.” “Whatisitallabout?”criedDorianinhispetulantway,flinginghimselfdownonthesofa.“Ihopeitisnotaboutmyself.Iamtiredofmyselfto-night.Ishouldliketobesomebodyelse.” “Itisaboutyourself,”answeredHallwardinhisgravedeepvoice,“andImustsayittoyou.Ishallonlykeepyouhalfanhour.” Doriansighedandlitacigarette.“Halfanhour!”hemurmured. “Itisnotmuchtoaskofyou,Dorian,anditisentirelyforyourownsakethatIamspeaking.IthinkitrightthatyoushouldknowthatthemostdreadfulthingsarebeingsaidagainstyouinLondon.” “Idon’twishtoknowanythingaboutthem.Ilovescandalsaboutotherpeople,butscandalsaboutmyselfdon’tinterestme.Theyhavenotgotthecharmofnovelty.” “Theymustinterestyou,Dorian.Everygentlemanisinterestedinhisgoodname.Youdon’twantpeopletotalkofyouassomethingvileanddegraded.Ofcourse,youhaveyourposition,andyourwealth,andallthatkindofthing.Butpositionandwealtharenoteverything.Mindyou,Idon’tbelievetheserumoursatall.Atleast,Ican’tbelievethemwhenIseeyou.Sinisathingthatwritesitselfacrossaman’sface.Itcannotbeconcealed.Peopletalksometimesofsecretvices.Therearenosuchthings.Ifawretchedmanhasavice,itshowsitselfinthelinesofhismouth,thedroopofhiseyelids,themouldingofhishandseven.Somebody—Iwon’tmentionhisname,butyouknowhim—cametomelastyeartohavehisportraitdone.Ihadneverseenhimbefore,andhadneverheardanythingabouthimatthetime,thoughIhaveheardagooddealsince.Heofferedanextravagantprice.Irefusedhim.Therewassomethinginth