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- Портрет Дориана Грея
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The
hero
of
the
wonderful
novel
that
had
so
influenced
his
life
had
himself
known
this
curious
fancy
.
In
the
seventh
chapter
he
tells
how
,
crowned
with
laurel
,
lest
lightning
might
strike
him
,
he
had
sat
,
as
Tiberius
,
in
a
garden
at
Capri
,
reading
the
shameful
books
of
Elephantis
,
while
dwarfs
and
peacocks
strutted
round
him
,
and
the
flute-player
mocked
the
swinger
of
the
censer
;
and
,
as
Caligula
,
had
caroused
with
the
green-shirted
jockeys
in
their
stables
and
supped
in
an
ivory
manger
with
a
jewel-frontleted
horse
;
and
,
as
Domitian
,
had
wandered
through
a
corridor
lined
with
marble
mirrors
,
looking
round
with
haggard
eyes
for
the
reflection
of
the
dagger
that
was
to
end
his
days
,
and
sick
with
that
ennui
,
that
terrible
tædium
vitæ
,
that
comes
on
those
to
whom
life
denies
nothing
;
and
had
peered
through
a
clear
emerald
at
the
red
shambles
of
the
Circus
,
and
then
,
in
a
litter
of
pearl
and
purple
drawn
by
silver-shod
mules
,
been
carried
through
the
Street
of
Pomegranates
to
a
House
of
Gold
,
and
heard
men
cry
on
Nero
Cæsar
as
he
passed
by
;
and
,
as
Elagabalus
,
had
painted
his
face
with
colours
,
and
plied
the
distaff
among
the
women
,
and
brought
the
Moon
from
Carthage
,
and
given
her
in
mystic
marriage
to
the
Sun
.
Over
and
over
again
Dorian
used
to
read
this
fantastic
chapter
,
and
the
two
chapters
immediately
following
,
in
which
,
as
in
some
curious
tapestries
or
cunningly-wrought
enamels
,
were
pictured
the
awful
and
beautiful
forms
of
those
whom
Vice
and
Blood
and
Weariness
had
made
monstrous
or
mad
:
Filippo
,
Duke
of
Milan
,
who
slew
his
wife
,
and
painted
her
lips
with
a
scarlet
poison
that
her
lover
might
suck
death
from
the
dead
thing
he
fondled
;
Pietro
Barbi
,
the
Venetian
,
known
as
Paul
the
Second
,
who
sought
in
his
vanity
to
assume
the
title
of
Formosus
,
and
whose
tiara
,
valued
at
two
hundred
thousand
florins
,
was
bought
at
the
price
of
a
terrible
sin
;
Gian
Maria
Visconti
,
who
used
hounds
to
chase
living
men
,
and
whose
murdered
body
was
covered
with
roses
by
a
harlot
who
had
loved
him
;
the
Borgia
on
his
white
horse
,
with
Fratricide
riding
beside
him
,
and
his
mantle
stained
with
the
blood
of
Perotto
;
Pietro
Riario
,
the
young
Cardinal
Archbishop
of
Florence
,
child
and
minion
of
Sixtus
IV.
,
whose
beauty
was
equalled
only
by
his
debauchery
,
and
who
received
Leonora
of
Aragon
in
a
pavilion
of
white
and
crimson
silk
,
filled
with
nymphs
and
centaurs
,
and
gilded
a
boy
that
he
might
serve
at
the
feast
as
Ganymede
or
Hylas
;
Ezzelin
,
whose
melancholy
could
be
cured
only
by
the
spectacle
of
death
,
and
who
had
a
passion
for
red
blood
,
as
other
men
have
for
red
wine
--
the
son
of
the
Fiend
,
as
was
reported
,
and
one
who
had
cheated
his
father
at
dice
when
gambling
with
him
for
his
own
soul
;
Giambattista
Cibo
,
who
in
mockery
took
the
name
of
Innocent
,
and
into
whose
torpid
veins
the
blood
of
three
lads
was
infused
by
a
Jewish
doctor
;
Sigismondo
Malatesta
,
the
lover
of
Isotta
,
and
the
lord
of
Rimini
,
whose
effigy
was
burned
at
Rome
as
the
enemy
of
God
and
man
,
who
strangled
Polyssena
with
a
napkin
,
and
gave
poison
to
Ginevra
d'Este
in
a
cup
of
emerald
,
and
in
honour
of
a
shameful
passion
built
a
pagan
church
for
Christian
worship
;
Charles
VI.
,
who
had
so
wildly
adored
his
brother
's
wife
that
a
leper
had
warned
him
of
the
insanity
that
was
coming
on
him
,
and
who
,
when
his
brain
had
sickened
and
grown
strange
,
could
only
be
soothed
by
Saracen
cards
painted
with
the
images
of
Love
and
Death
and
Madness
;
and
,
in
his
trimmed
jerkin
and
jewelled
cap
and
acanthus-like
curls
,
Grifonetto
Baglioni
,
who
slew
Astorre
with
his
bride
,
and
Simonetto
with
his
page
,
and
whose
comeliness
was
such
that
,
as
he
lay
dying
in
the
yellow
piazza
of
Perugia
,
those
who
had
hated
him
could
not
choose
but
weep
,
and
Atalanta
,
who
had
cursed
him
,
blessed
him
.
There
was
a
horrible
fascination
in
them
all
.
He
saw
them
at
night
,
and
they
troubled
his
imagination
in
the
day
.
The
Renaissance
knew
of
strange
manners
of
poisoning
--
poisoning
by
a
helmet
and
a
lighted
torch
,
by
an
embroidered
glove
and
a
jewelled
fan
,
by
a
gilded
pomander
and
by
an
amber
chain
.
Dorian
Gray
had
been
poisoned
by
a
book
.
There
were
moments
when
he
looked
on
evil
simply
as
a
mode
through
which
he
could
realise
his
conception
of
the
beautiful
.
It
was
on
the
ninth
of
November
,
the
eve
of
his
own
thirty-eighth
birthday
,
as
he
often
remembered
afterwards
.
He
was
walking
home
about
eleven
o'clock
o'clock
from
Lord
Henry
's
,
where
he
had
been
dining
,
and
was
wrapped
in
heavy
furs
,
as
the
night
was
cold
and
foggy
.
At
the
corner
of
Grosvenor
Square
and
South
Audley
Street
a
man
passed
him
in
the
mist
,
walking
very
fast
,
and
with
the
collar
of
his
grey
ulster
turned
up
.
He
had
a
bag
in
his
hand
.
Dorian
recognised
him
.
It
was
Basil
Hallward
.
A
strange
sense
of
fear
,
for
which
he
could
not
account
,
came
over
him
.
He
made
no
sign
of
recognition
,
and
went
on
quickly
in
the
direction
of
his
own
house
.
But
Hallward
had
seen
him
.
Dorian
heard
him
first
stopping
on
the
pavement
,
and
then
hurrying
after
him
.
In
a
few
moments
his
hand
was
on
his
arm
.
"
Dorian
!
What
an
extraordinary
piece
of
luck
!
I
have
been
waiting
for
you
in
your
library
ever
since
nine
o'clock
o'clock
.
Finally
I
took
pity
on
your
tired
servant
,
and
told
him
to
go
to
bed
,
as
he
let
me
out
.
I
am
off
to
Paris
by
the
midnight
train
,
and
I
particularly
wanted
to
see
you
before
I
left
.
I
thought
it
was
you
,
or
rather
your
fur
coat
,
as
you
passed
me
.
But
I
was
n't
quite
sure
.
Did
n't
you
recognise
me
?
"
"
In
this
fog
,
my
dear
Basil
?
Why
,
I
ca
n't
even
recognise
Grosvenor
Square
.
I
believe
my
house
is
somewhere
about
here
,
but
I
do
n't
feel
at
all
certain
about
it
.
I
am
sorry
you
are
going
away
,
as
I
have
not
seen
you
for
ages
.
But
I
suppose
you
will
be
back
soon
?
"
