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- Портрет Дориана Грея
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- Стр. 157/164
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"
And
weep
over
a
faithless
Florizel
,
"
said
Lord
Henry
,
laughing
,
as
he
leant
back
in
his
chair
.
"
My
dear
Dorian
,
you
have
the
most
curiously
boyish
moods
.
Do
you
think
this
girl
will
ever
be
really
contented
now
with
anyone
of
her
own
rank
?
I
suppose
she
will
be
married
some
day
to
a
rough
carter
or
a
grinning
ploughman
.
Well
,
the
fact
of
having
met
you
,
and
loved
you
,
will
teach
her
to
despise
her
husband
,
and
she
will
be
wretched
.
From
a
moral
point
of
view
,
I
can
not
say
that
I
think
much
of
your
great
renunciation
.
Even
as
a
beginning
,
it
is
poor
.
Besides
,
how
do
you
know
that
Hetty
is
n't
floating
at
the
present
moment
in
some
star-lit
mill-pond
,
with
lovely
water-lilies
round
her
,
like
Ophelia
?
"
"
I
ca
n't
bear
this
,
Harry
!
You
mock
at
everything
,
and
then
suggest
the
most
serious
tragedies
.
I
am
sorry
I
told
you
now
.
I
do
n't
care
what
you
say
to
me
.
I
know
I
was
right
in
acting
as
I
did
.
Poor
Hetty
!
As
I
rode
past
the
farm
this
morning
,
I
saw
her
white
face
at
the
window
,
like
a
spray
of
jasmine
.
Do
n't
let
us
talk
about
it
any
more
,
and
do
n't
try
to
persuade
me
that
the
first
good
action
I
have
done
for
years
,
the
first
little
bit
of
self-sacrifice
I
have
ever
known
,
is
really
a
sort
of
sin
.
I
want
to
be
better
.
I
am
going
to
be
better
.
Tell
me
something
about
yourself
.
What
is
going
on
in
town
?
I
have
not
been
to
the
club
for
days
.
"
"
The
people
are
still
discussing
poor
Basil
's
disappearance
.
"
"
I
should
have
thought
they
had
got
tired
of
that
by
this
time
,
"
said
Dorian
,
pouring
himself
out
some
wine
,
and
frowning
slightly
.
"
My
dear
boy
,
they
have
only
been
talking
about
it
for
six
weeks
,
and
the
British
public
are
really
not
equal
to
the
mental
strain
of
having
more
than
one
topic
every
three
months
.
They
have
been
very
fortunate
lately
,
however
.
They
have
had
my
own
divorce-case
,
and
Alan
Campbell
's
suicide
.
Now
they
have
got
the
mysterious
disappearance
of
an
artist
.
Scotland
Yard
still
insists
that
the
man
in
the
grey
ulster
who
left
for
Paris
by
the
midnight
train
on
the
ninth
of
November
was
poor
Basil
,
and
the
French
police
declare
that
Basil
never
arrived
in
Paris
at
all
.
I
suppose
in
about
a
fortnight
we
shall
be
told
that
he
has
been
seen
in
San
Francisco
.
It
is
an
odd
thing
,
but
everyone
who
disappears
is
said
to
be
seen
at
San
Francisco
.
It
must
be
a
delightful
city
,
and
possess
all
the
attractions
of
the
next
world
.
"
"
What
do
you
think
has
happened
to
Basil
?
"
asked
Dorian
,
holding
up
his
Burgundy
against
the
light
,
and
wondering
how
it
was
that
he
could
discuss
the
matter
so
calmly
.
"
I
have
not
the
slightest
idea
.
If
Basil
chooses
to
hide
himself
,
it
is
no
business
of
mine
.
If
he
is
dead
,
I
do
n't
want
to
think
about
him
.
Death
is
the
only
thing
that
ever
terrifies
me
.
I
hate
it
.
"
"
Why
?
"
said
the
younger
man
,
wearily
.
"
Because
,
"
said
Lord
Henry
,
passing
beneath
his
nostrils
the
gilt
trellis
of
an
open
vinaigrette
box
,
"
one
can
survive
everything
nowadays
except
that
.
Death
and
vulgarity
are
the
only
two
facts
in
the
nineteenth
century
that
one
can
not
explain
away
.
Let
us
have
our
coffee
in
the
music-room
,
Dorian
.
You
must
play
Chopin
to
me
.
The
man
with
whom
my
wife
ran
away
played
Chopin
exquisitely
.
Poor
Victoria
!
I
was
very
fond
of
her
.
The
house
is
rather
lonely
without
her
.
Of
course
married
life
is
merely
a
habit
,
a
bad
habit
.
But
then
one
regrets
the
loss
even
of
one
's
worst
habits
.
Perhaps
one
regrets
them
the
most
.
They
are
such
an
essential
part
of
one
's
personality
.
"
