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.
"That Tartuffe has emigrated to England and opened a shop."
"You are flirting disgracefully with him," said Lord Henry to his cousin. "You had better take care. He is very fascinating."
"If he were not, there would be no battle."
"Then what should we call you, Harry?" she asked.
"In the Parthian manner?"
"You are a sceptic."
"Great things have been thrust on us, Gladys."
"I live in it."
"And found it, Mr. Gray?"
"I darent, Mr. Gray. Why, she invents hats for me. You remember the one I wore at Lady Hilstones garden-party? You dont, but it is nice of you to pretend that you do. Well, she made if out of nothing. All good hats are made out of nothing."
The duchess sighed. "I am searching for peace," she said, "and if I dont go and dress, I shall have none this evening."
"No, I will come down," he said, struggling to his feet. "I would rather come down. I must not be alone."
"What of art?" she asked.
"It has development."
"That would be a premature surrender."
"Describe us as a sex," was her challenge.
"Ah! dont remind me of that," cried Dorian Gray.
"Oh! my maid does that already, Mr. Gray, when she is annoyed with me."
"I shall write it in my diary to-night."
"It represents the survival of the pushing."
"Pace gives life," was the riposte.
"Royalties may not abdicate," fell as a warning from pretty lips.
The duchess turned and looked at Dorian Gray with a curious expression in her eyes. "What do you say to th藏书网at, Mr. Gray?" she inquired.
"Romanticists! You have all the methods of science."
"You use them for everything, except flight."
"Only as far as the Stock Exchange."
"And what does she get annoyed with you about, Duchess?"
"My dear Gladys!" cried Lord Henry. "How 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."
"My 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, 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."
"What do they say of us?"
"Threads snap. You would lose your way in the labyrinth."
"To define is to limit."
"Even when he is wrong?"
"Let me get you some orchids, Duchess," cried Dorian, starting to his feet and walking down the conservatory.
"It seems to me that we never do anything else," murmured Dorian.
Chapter 17
"Ugliness is one of the seven dｈｔtp://ｗwｗ.9９ｌiｂ•ｎｅteadly sins, then?" cried the duchess. "What becomes of your simile about the orchid?"
He laughed. "Lady Narborough," he whispered. "She perfectly adores him."
"For 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."
"But not explained you."
"Courage has passed from men to women. It is a new experience for us."
"Harry is never wrong, Duchess."
"Men have educated us."
"Never! Scepticism is the beginning of faith."
"What are you two talking about?" said Lord Henry, strolling over to the table and putting his cup down. "I hope Dorian has told you about my plan for rechristening everything, Gladys. It is a delightful idea."
"You need not be afraid. Our countrymen never recognize a description."
"What has happened?" he asked. "Oh! I remember. Am I safe here, Harry?" He began to tremble.
"I give it to you."
"Love?"
"The fashionable substitute for belief."
"I wont hear of it," laughed Lord Henry, sinking into a chair. "From a label there is no escape! I refuse the title."
"Sphinxes without secrets."
"You disarm me, Gladys," he cried, catching the wilfulness of her mood.
"What are you?"
"Romantic art begins with its climax."
"And does his philosophy make you happy?"
"Decay fascinates me more."
"That a burnt child loves the fire."
"Ah! then, you never really love, Mr. Gray," answered the duchess with mock sadness.
"Not with women," said the duchess, shaking her head; "and women rule the world. I assure you we cant bear mediocrities. We women, as some one says, lov9９ｌｉｂ•ｎete with our ears, just as you men love with your eyes, if you ever love at all."
"Ah! you must suit your frock to his flowers, Gladys."
"Even when one has been wounded by it, Harry?" asked the duchess after a pause.
"It is a malady."
Dorian hesitated for a moment. Then he threw his head back and laughed. "I always agree with Harry, Duchess."
"You fill me with apprehension. The appeal to antiquity is fatal to us who are romanticists."
"Women are not always allowed a choice," 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.
"You gallop with a loose rein."
"Yes.
"Like all good reputations, Gladys," interrupted Lord Henry. "Every effect that one produces gives one an enemy. To be popular one must be a mediocrity."
"Who?"
"Religion?"
"Of your shield, Harry, not of your spear."
"You dont like your country, then?" she asked.
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.
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 t藏书网he 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 dukes 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.
She shook her head. "I believe in the race," she cried.
"I must keep an opportunity for retreat."
"We have carried their burden."
"Still, we have done great things."
"My dear Dorian," answered Lord Henry, "you merely fainted. That was all. You must have overtired yourself. You had better not come down to dinner. I will take your place."
"Give me a clue."
"Would you have me take the verdict of Europe on it?" he inquired.
She looked at him, smiling. "How long Mr. Gray is!" she said. "Let us go and help him. I have not yet told him the colour of my frock."
"Often. Too often."
"That is your error, Harry, believe me. You value beauty far too much."
"You bewilder me. Let us talk of some one else."
"You have a rival."
"What?"
"Well, I hope he wont stick pins into you, Duchess," laughed Dorian.
"That you may censure it the better."
"But I dont want to be rechristened, Harry," rejoined the duchess, looking up at him with her wonderful eyes. "I am quite satisfied with my own name, and I am sure Mr. Gray should be satisfied with his.&quo藏书网t;
"I am on the side of the Trojans. They fought for a woman."
"I have never searched for happiness. Who wants happiness? I have searched for pleasure."
"I could not use it. It is too true."
"How 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."
"They are practical."
"An illusion."
"They were defeated."
"Our host is a delightful topic. Years ago he was christened Prince Charming."
"Especially when one has been wounded by it," answered Lord Henry.
"I give the truths of to-morrow."
"Our host is rather horrid this evening," answered the duchess, colouring. "I believe he thinks that Monmouth married me on purely scientific principles as the best specimen he could find of a modern butterfly."
"Ugliness 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."
"There are worse things than capture," she answered.
"They are more cunning than practical. When they make up their ledger, they balance stupidity by wealth, and vice by hypocrisy."
"How unreasonable of her! You should give her warning."
"I recognize him in a flash," exclaimed the duchess.
"I never tilt against beauty," he said, with a wave of his hand.
"I am not even singed. My wings are untouched."
"I prefer the mistakes of to-day," she answered.
"They found safety in the desert. I could not do that."