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- Оскар Уайльд
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- Портрет Дориана Грея
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- Стр. 153/164
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"
The
button
from
your
foil
,
"
he
answered
.
"
You
have
dropped
it
.
"
She
laughed
.
"
I
have
still
the
mask
.
"
"
It
makes
your
eyes
lovelier
,
"
was
his
reply
.
She
laughed
again
.
Her
teeth
showed
like
white
seeds
in
a
scarlet
fruit
.
Upstairs
,
in
his
own
room
,
Dorian
Gray
was
lying
on
a
sofa
,
with
terror
in
every
tingling
fibre
of
his
body
.
Life
had
suddenly
become
too
hideous
a
burden
for
him
to
bear
.
The
dreadful
death
of
the
unlucky
beater
,
shot
in
the
thicket
like
a
wild
animal
,
had
seemed
to
him
to
prefigure
death
for
himself
also
.
He
had
nearly
swooned
at
what
Lord
Henry
had
said
in
a
chance
mood
of
cynical
jesting
.
At
five
o'clock
o'clock
he
rang
his
bell
for
his
servant
and
gave
him
orders
to
pack
his
things
for
the
night-express
to
town
,
and
to
have
the
brougham
at
the
door
by
eight-thirty
.
He
was
determined
not
to
sleep
another
night
at
Selby
Royal
.
It
was
an
ill-omened
place
.
Death
walked
there
in
the
sunlight
.
The
grass
of
the
forest
had
been
spotted
with
blood
.
Then
he
wrote
a
note
to
Lord
Henry
,
telling
him
that
he
was
going
up
to
town
to
consult
his
doctor
,
and
asking
him
to
entertain
his
guests
in
his
absence
.
As
he
was
putting
it
into
the
envelope
,
a
knock
came
to
the
door
,
and
his
valet
informed
him
that
the
head-keeper
wished
to
see
him
.
He
frowned
,
and
bit
his
lip
.
"
Send
him
in
,
"
he
muttered
,
after
some
moments
'
hesitation
.
As
soon
as
the
man
entered
Dorian
pulled
his
chequebook
out
of
a
drawer
,
and
spread
it
out
before
him
.
"
I
suppose
you
have
come
about
the
unfortunate
accident
of
this
morning
,
Thornton
?
"
he
said
,
taking
up
a
pen
.
"
Yes
,
sir
,
"
answered
the
gamekeeper
.
