A week later Dorian Gray was sitting in the conservatory at Selby Royal, talking to the pretty Duchess of Monmouth, who with her husband, a jaded-looking man of sixty, was amongst his guests. It was tea-time, and the mellow light of the huge, lace-covered lamp that stood on the table lit up the delicate china and hammered silver of the service at which the duchess was presiding. Her white hands were moving daintily among the cups, and her full red lips were smiling at something that Dorian had whispered to her. Lord Henry was lying back in a silk-draped wicker chair, looking at them. On a peach-coloured divan sat Lady Narborough, pretending to listen to the duke\u2019s description of the last Brazilian beetle that he had added to his collection. Three young men in elaborate smoking-suits were handing tea-cakes to some of the women. The house-party consisted of twelve people, and there were more expected to arrive on the next day.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you two talking about?\u201d said Lord Henry, strolling over to the table and putting his cup down. \u201cI hope Dorian has told you about my plan for rechristening everything, Gladys. It is a delightful idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I don\u2019t want to be rechristened, Harry,\u201d rejoined the duchess, looking up at him with her wonderful eyes. \u201cI am quite satisfied with my own name, and I am sure Mr. Gray should be satisfied with his.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy dear Gladys, I would not alter either name for the world. They are both perfect. I was thinking chiefly of flowers. Yesterday I cut an orchid, for my button-hole. It was a marvellous spotted thing, as effective as the seven deadly sins. In a thoughtless moment I asked one of the gardeners what it was called. He told me it was a fine specimen of Robinsoniana<\/i>, or something dreadful of that kind. It is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things. Names are everything. I never quarrel with actions. My one quarrel is with words. That is the reason I hate vulgar realism in literature. The man who could call a spade a spade should be compelled to use one. It is the only thing he is fit for.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen what should we call you, Harry?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cHis name is Prince Paradox,\u201d said Dorian.<\/p>\n
\u201cI recognize him in a flash,\u201d exclaimed the duchess.<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t hear of it,\u201d laughed Lord Henry, sinking into a chair. \u201cFrom a label there is no escape! I refuse the title.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRoyalties may not abdicate,\u201d fell as a warning from pretty lips.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wish me to defend my throne, then?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI give the truths of to-morrow.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI prefer the mistakes of to-day,\u201d she answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou disarm me, Gladys,\u201d he cried, catching the wilfulness of her mood.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf your shield, Harry, not of your spear.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI never tilt against beauty,\u201d he said, with a wave of his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is your error, Harry, believe me. You value beauty far too much.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow can you say that? I admit that I think that it is better to be beautiful than to be good. But on the other hand, no one is more ready than I am to acknowledge that it is better to be good than to be ugly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUgliness is one of the seven deadly sins, then?\u201d cried the duchess. \u201cWhat becomes of your simile about the orchid?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUgliness is one of the seven deadly virtues, Gladys. You, as a good Tory, must not underrate them. Beer, the Bible, and the seven deadly virtues have made our England what she is.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t like your country, then?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI live in it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat you may censure it the better.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWould you have me take the verdict of Europe on it?\u201d he inquired.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do they say of us?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat Tartuffe has emigrated to England and opened a shop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that yours, Harry?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI give it to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI could not use it. It is too true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need not be afraid. Our countrymen never recognize a description.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey are practical.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey are more cunning than practical. When they make up their ledger, they balance stupidity by wealth, and vice by hypocrisy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStill, we have done great things.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat things have been thrust on us, Gladys.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe have carried their burden.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOnly as far as the Stock Exchange.\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head. \u201cI believe in the race,\u201d she cried.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt represents the survival of the pushing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt has development.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDecay fascinates me more.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat of art?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is a malady.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLove?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAn illusion.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReligion?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe fashionable substitute for belief.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are a sceptic.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNever! Scepticism is the beginning of faith.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo define is to limit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGive me a clue.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThreads snap. You would lose your way in the labyrinth.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou bewilder me. Let us talk of some one else.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOur host is a delightful topic. Years ago he was christened Prince Charming.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh! don\u2019t remind me of that,\u201d cried Dorian Gray.<\/p>\n
\u201cOur host is rather horrid this evening,\u201d answered the duchess, colouring. \u201cI believe he thinks that Monmouth married me on purely scientific principles as the best specimen he could find of a modern butterfly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I hope he won\u2019t stick pins into you, Duchess,\u201d laughed Dorian.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh! my maid does that already, Mr. Gray, when she is annoyed with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what does she get annoyed with you about, Duchess?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor the most trivial things, Mr. Gray, I assure you. Usually because I come in at ten minutes to nine and tell her that I must be dressed by half-past eight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow unreasonable of her! You should give her warning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI daren\u2019t, Mr. Gray. Why, she invents hats for me. You remember the one I wore at Lady Hilstone\u2019s garden-party? You don\u2019t, but it is nice of you to pretend that you do. Well, she made it out of nothing. All good hats are made out of nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLike all good reputations, Gladys,\u201d interrupted Lord Henry. \u201cEvery effect that one produces gives one an enemy. To be popular one must be a mediocrity.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot with women,\u201d said the duchess, shaking her head; \u201cand women rule the world. I assure you we can\u2019t bear mediocrities. We women, as some one says, love with our ears, just as you men love with your eyes, if you ever love at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt seems to me that we never do anything else,\u201d murmured Dorian.<\/p>\n
\u201cAh! then, you never really love, Mr. Gray,\u201d answered the duchess with mock sadness.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy dear Gladys!\u201d cried Lord Henry. \u201cHow can you say that? Romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art. Besides, each time that one loves is the only time one has ever loved. Difference of object does not alter singleness of passion. It merely intensifies it. We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEven when one has been wounded by it, Harry?\u201d asked the duchess after a pause.<\/p>\n
\u201cEspecially when one has been wounded by it,\u201d answered Lord Henry.<\/p>\n
The duchess turned and looked at Dorian Gray with a curious expression in her eyes. \u201cWhat do you say to that, Mr. Gray?\u201d she inquired.<\/p>\n
Dorian hesitated for a moment. Then he threw his head back and laughed. \u201cI always agree with Harry, Duchess.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEven when he is wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHarry is never wrong, Duchess.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd does his philosophy make you happy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have never searched for happiness. Who wants happiness? I have searched for pleasure.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd found it, Mr. Gray?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOften. Too often.\u201d<\/p>\n
The duchess sighed. \u201cI am searching for peace,\u201d she said, \u201cand if I don\u2019t go and dress, I shall have none this evening.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet me get you some orchids, Duchess,\u201d cried Dorian, starting to his feet and walking down the conservatory.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are flirting disgracefully with him,\u201d said Lord Henry to his cousin. \u201cYou had better take care. He is very fascinating.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf he were not, there would be no battle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGreek meets Greek, then?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am on the side of the Trojans. They fought for a woman.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey were defeated.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere are worse things than capture,\u201d she answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou gallop with a loose rein.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPace gives life,\u201d was the riposte<\/i>.<\/p>\n
\u201cI shall write it in my diary to-night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat a burnt child loves the fire.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am not even singed. My wings are untouched.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou use them for everything, except flight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCourage has passed from men to women. It is a new experience for us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have a rival.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed. \u201cLady Narborough,\u201d he whispered. \u201cShe perfectly adores him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou fill me with apprehension. The appeal to antiquity is fatal to us who are romanticists.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRomanticists! You have all the methods of science.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMen have educated us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut not explained you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDescribe us as a sex,\u201d was her challenge.<\/p>\n
\u201cSphinxes without secrets.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at him, smiling. \u201cHow long Mr. Gray is!\u201d she said. \u201cLet us go and help him. I have not yet told him the colour of my frock.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh! you must suit your frock to his flowers, Gladys.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat would be a premature surrender.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRomantic art begins with its climax.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI must keep an opportunity for retreat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn the Parthian manner?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey found safety in the desert. I could not do that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWomen are not always allowed a choice,\u201d he answered, but hardly had he finished the sentence before from the far end of the conservatory came a stifled groan, followed by the dull sound of a heavy fall. Everybody started up. The duchess stood motionless in horror. And with fear in his eyes, Lord Henry rushed through the flapping palms to find Dorian Gray lying face downwards on the tiled floor in a deathlike swoon.<\/p>\n
He was carried at once into the blue drawing-room and laid upon one of the sofas. After a short time, he came to himself and looked round with a dazed expression.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat has happened?\u201d he asked. \u201cOh! I remember. Am I safe here, Harry?\u201d He began to tremble.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy dear Dorian,\u201d answered Lord Henry, \u201cyou merely fainted. That was all. You must have overtired yourself. You had better not come down to dinner. I will take your place.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I will come down,\u201d he said, struggling to his feet. \u201cI would rather come down. I must not be alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
He went to his room and dressed. There was a wild recklessness of gaiety in his manner as he sat at table, but now and then a thrill of terror ran through him when he remembered that, pressed against the window of the conservatory, like a white handkerchief, he had seen the face of James Vane watching him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":18,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-39","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/39","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/299"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/39\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":182,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/39\/revisions\/182"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/39\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=39"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=39"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=39"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thepictureofdoriangray\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=39"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}