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1That evening, at eight-thirty, exquisitely dressed and wearing a large button-hole of Parma violets, Dorian Gray was
2ushered into Lady Narborough's drawing-room by bowing servants. His forehead was throbbing with maddened nerves, and he
3felt wildly excited, but his manner as he bent over his hostess's hand was as easy and graceful as ever. Perhaps one
4never seems so much at one's ease as when one has to play a part. Certainly no one looking at Dorian Gray that night
5could have believed that he had passed through a tragedy as horrible as any tragedy of our age. Those finely shaped
6fingers could never have clutched a knife for sin, nor those smiling lips have cried out on God and goodness. He himself
7could not help wondering at the calm of his demeanour, and for a moment felt keenly the terrible pleasure of a double
8life. It was a small party, got up rather in a hurry by Lady Narborough, who was a very clever woman with what Lord
9Henry used to describe as the remains of really remarkable ugliness. She had proved an excellent wife to one of our most
10tedious ambassadors, and having buried her husband properly in a marble mausoleum, which she had herself designed, and
11married off her daughters to some rich, rather elderly men, she devoted herself now to the pleasures of French fiction,
12French cookery, and French esprit when she could get it. Dorian was one of her especial favourites, and she always told
13him that she was extremely glad she had not met him in early life. "I know, my dear, I should have fallen madly in love
14with you," she used to say, "and thrown my bonnet right over the mills for your sake. It is most fortunate that you were
15not thought of at the time. As it was, our bonnets were so unbecoming, and the mills were so occupied in trying to raise
16the wind, that I never had even a flirtation with anybody. However, that was all Narborough's fault. He was dreadfully
17short-sighted, and there is no pleasure in taking in a husband who never sees anything." Her guests this evening were
18rather tedious. The fact was, as she explained to Dorian, behind a very shabby fan, one of her married daughters had
19come up quite suddenly to stay with her, and, to make matters worse, had actually brought her husband with her. "I think
20it is most unkind of her, my dear," she whispered. "Of course I go and stay with them every summer after I come from
21Homburg, but then an old woman like me must have fresh air sometimes, and besides, I really wake them up. You don't know
22what an existence they lead down there. It is pure unadulterated country life. They get up early, because they have so
23much to do, and go to bed early, because they have so little to think about. There has not been a scandal in the
24neighbourhood since the time of Queen Elizabeth, and consequently they all fall asleep after dinner. You shan't sit next
25either of them. You shall sit by me and amuse me." Dorian murmured a graceful compliment and looked round the room. Yes:
26it was certainly a tedious party. Two of the people he had never seen before, and the others consisted of Ernest
27Harrowden, one of those middle-aged mediocrities so common in London clubs who have no enemies, but are thoroughly
28disliked by their friends; Lady Ruxton, an overdressed woman of forty-seven, with a hooked nose, who was always trying
29to get herself compromised, but was so peculiarly plain that to her great disappointment no one would ever believe
30anything against her; Mrs. Erlynne, a pushing nobody, with a delightful lisp and Venetian-red hair; Lady Alice Chapman,
31his hostess's daughter, a dowdy dull girl, with one of those characteristic British faces that, once seen, are never
32remembered; and her husband, a red-cheeked, white-whiskered creature who, like so many of his class, was under the
33impression that inordinate joviality can atone for an entire lack of ideas. He was rather sorry he had come, till Lady
34Narborough, looking at the great ormolu gilt clock that sprawled in gaudy curves on the mauve-draped mantelshelf,
35exclaimed: "How horrid of Henry Wotton to be so late! I sent round to him this morning on chance and he promised
36faithfully not to disappoint me." It was some consolation that Harry was to be there, and when the door opened and he
37heard his slow musical voice lending charm to some insincere apology, he ceased to feel bored. But at dinner he could
38not eat anything. Plate after plate went away untasted. Lady Narborough kept scolding him for what she called "an insult
39to poor Adolphe, who invented the menu specially for you," and now and then Lord Henry looked across at him, wondering
40at his silence and abstracted manner. From time to time the butler filled his glass with champagne. He drank eagerly,
41and his thirst seemed to increase. "Dorian," said Lord Henry at last, as the chaud-froid was being handed round, "what
42is the matter with you to-night? You are quite out of sorts." "I believe he is in love," cried Lady Narborough, "and
43that he is afraid to tell me for fear I should be jealous. He is quite right. I certainly should." "Dear Lady
44Narborough," murmured Dorian, smiling, "I have not been in love for a whole week--not, in fact, since Madame de Ferrol
45left town." "How you men can fall in love with that woman!" exclaimed the old lady. "I really cannot understand it." "It
46is simply because she remembers you when you were a little girl, Lady Narborough," said Lord Henry. "She is the one link
47between us and your short frocks." "She does not remember my short frocks at all, Lord Henry. But I remember her very
48well at Vienna thirty years ago, and how décolletée she was then." "She is still décolletée," he answered, taking an
49olive in his long fingers; "and when she is in a very smart gown she looks like an édition de luxe of a bad French
50novel. She is really wonderful, and full of surprises. Her capacity for family affection is extraordinary. When her
51third husband died, her hair turned quite gold from grief." "How can you, Harry!" cried Dorian. "It is a most romantic
52explanation," laughed the hostess. "But her third husband, Lord Henry! You don't mean to say Ferrol is the fourth?"
53"Certainly, Lady Narborough." "I don't believe a word of it." "Well, ask Mr. Gray. He is one of her most intimate
54friends." "Is it true, Mr. Gray?" "She assures me so, Lady Narborough," said Dorian. "I asked her whether, like
55Marguerite de Navarre, she had their hearts embalmed and hung at her girdle. She told me she didn't, because none of
56them had had any hearts at all." "Four husbands! Upon my word that is trop de zêle." "Trop d'audace, I tell her," said
57Dorian. "Oh! she is audacious enough for anything, my dear. And what is Ferrol like? I don't know him." "The husbands of
58very beautiful women belong to the criminal classes," said Lord Henry, sipping his wine. Lady Narborough hit him with
59her fan. "Lord Henry, I am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked." "But what world says
60that?" asked Lord Henry, elevating his eyebrows. "It can only be the next world. This world and I are on excellent
61terms." "Everybody I know says you are very wicked," cried the old lady, shaking her head. Lord Henry looked serious for
62some moments. "It is perfectly monstrous," he said, at last, "the way people go about nowadays saying things against one
63behind one's back that are absolutely and entirely true." "Isn't he incorrigible?" cried Dorian, leaning forward in his
64chair. "I hope so," said his hostess, laughing. "But really, if you all worship Madame de Ferrol in this ridiculous way,
65I shall have to marry again so as to be in the fashion." "You will never marry again, Lady Narborough," broke in Lord
66Henry. "You were far too happy. When a woman marries again, it is because she detested her first husband. When a man
67marries again, it is because he adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs." "Narborough wasn't
68perfect," cried the old lady. "If he had been, you would not have loved him, my dear lady," was the rejoinder. "Women
69love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our intellects. You will never
70ask me to dinner again after saying this, I am afraid, Lady Narborough, but it is quite true."
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