CHAPTER XVIII.
關燈
小
中
大
itisnothingtous.ItisratherawkwardforGeoffrey,ofcourse.Itdoesnotdotopepperbeaters.Itmakespeoplethinkthatoneisawildshot.AndGeoffreyisnotheshootsverystraight.Butthereisnousetalkingaboutthematter.”
Dorianshookhishead.“Itisabadomen,Harry.Ifeelasifsomethinghorribleweregoingtohappentosomeofus.Tomyself,perhaps,”headded,passinghishandoverhiseyes,withagestureofpain.
Theeldermanlaughed.“Theonlyhorriblethingintheworldisennui,Dorian.Thatistheonesinforwhichthereisnoforgiveness.Butwearenotlikelytosufferfromitunlessthesefellowskeepchatteringaboutthisthingatdinner.Imusttellthemthatthesubjectistobetabooed.Asforomens,thereisnosuchthingasanomen.Destinydoesnotsendusheralds.Sheistoowiseortoocruelforthat.Besides,whatonearthcouldhappentoyou,Dorian?Youhaveeverythingintheworldthatamancanwant.Thereisnoonewhowouldnotbedelightedtochangeplaceswithyou.”
“ThereisnoonewithwhomIwouldnotchangeplaces,Harry.Don’tlaughlikethat.Iamtellingyouthetruth.ThewretchedpeasantwhohasjustdiedisbetteroffthanIam.Ihavenoterrorofdeath.Itisthecomingofdeaththatterrifiesme.Itsmonstrouswingsseemtowheelintheleadenairaroundme.Goodheavens!don’tyouseeamanmovingbehindthetreesthere,watchingme,waitingforme?”
LordHenrylookedinthedirectioninwhichthetremblingglovedhandwaspointing.“Yes,”hesaid,smiling,“Iseethegardenerwaitingforyou.Isupposehewantstoaskyouwhatflowersyouwishtohaveonthetableto-night.Howabsurdlynervousyouare,mydearfellow!Youmustcomeandseemydoctor,whenwegetbacktotown.”
Dorianheavedasighofreliefashesawthegardenerapproaching.Themantouchedhishat,glancedforamomentatLordHenryinahesitatingmanner,andthenproducedaletter,whichhehandedtohismaster.“HerGracetoldmetowaitforananswer,”hemurmured.
Dorianputtheletterintohispocket.“TellherGracethatIamcomingin,”hesaid,coldly.Themanturnedroundandwentrapidlyinthedirectionofthehouse.
“Howfondwomenareofdoingdangerousthings!”laughedLordHenry.“ItisoneofthequalitiesinthemthatIadmiremost.Awomanwillflirtwithanybodyintheworldaslongasotherpeoplearelookingon.”
“Howfondyouareofsayingdangerousthings,Harry!Inthepresentinstance,youarequiteastray.Iliketheduchessverymuch,butIdon’tloveher.”
“Andtheduchesslovesyouverymuch,butshelikesyouless,soyouareexcellentlymatched.”
“Youaretalkingscandal,Harry,andthereisneveranybasisforscandal.”
“Thebasisofeveryscandalisanimmoralcertainty,”saidLordHenry,lightingacigarette.
“Youwouldsacrificeanybody,Harry,forthesakeofanepigram.”
“Theworldgoestothealtarofitsownaccord,”wastheanswer.
“IwishIcouldlove,”criedDorianGraywithadeepnoteofpathosinhisvoice.“ButIseemtohavelostthepassionandforgottenthedesire.Iamtoomuchconcentratedonmyself.Myownpersonalityhasbecomeaburdentome.Iwanttoescape,togoaway,toforget.Itwassillyofmetocomedownhereatall.IthinkIshallsendawiretoHarveytohavetheyachtgotready.Onayachtoneissafe.”
“Safefromwhat,Dorian?Youareinsometrouble.Whynottellmewhatitis?YouknowIwouldhelpyou.”
“Ican’ttellyou,Harry,”heansweredsadly.“AndIdaresayitisonlyafancyofmi
