The Picture Of Dorian Gray - Chapter 18

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Episode Transcript

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Chapter eighteen of the Picture of DorianGray by Oscar Wilde, read by Bobnifield.
The next day, he did notleave the house, and indeed spent
most of the time in his ownroom, sick with a wild terror of
dying, and yet indifferent to lifeitself. The consciousness of being hunted,

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snared, tracked down had begun todominate him. If the tapestry did but
tremble in the wind, he shook, The dead leaves that were blown against
the leaded panes seemed to him likehis own wasted resolutions and wild regrets.
When he closed his eyes, hesaw again the sailor's face peering through the

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mist stained glass, and horror seemedonce more to lay its hand upon his
heart. But perhaps it had beenonly his fancy that had called vengeance out
of the night and set the hideousshapes of punishment before him. Actual life
was chaos, but there was somethingterribly logical in the imagination. It was

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the imagination that set remorse to dogthe feet of sin. It was the
imagination that made each crime bear itsmisshapen brood. In the common world of
fact, the wicked were not punished, nor the good rewarded. Success was
given to the strong, failure thrustupon the weak. That was all.

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Besides, had any stranger been prowlinground the house, he would have been
seen by the servants or the keepers. Had any footmarks been found on the
flower beds, the gardeners would havereported it. Yes, it had been
merely fancy. Sibyl Vane's brother hadnot come back to kill him. He

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had sailed away, and his shipto founder in some winter sea from him.
At any rate, he was safe. Why the man did not know
who he was, could not knowwho he was. The mask of youth
had saved him. And yet ifit had been merely an illusion, how

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terrible it was to think that consciencecould raise such fearful phantoms and give them
visible form, and make them movebefore one. What sort of life would
his be if day and night shadowsof his crime were to peer at him
from silent corners, to mock himfrom secret places, to whisper in his

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ear as he sat at the feast, to wake him with icy fingers as
he lay asleep. As the thoughtcrept through his brain, he grew pale
with terror, and the air seemedto him to have become suddenly colder.
Ah, in what a wild hourof manners he had killed his friend,

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how ghastly the mere memory of thescene, he saw it all again,
Each hideous detail came back to himwith added horror. Out of the black
cave of time, terrible and swathedin scarlet, rose the image of his
sin. When Lord Henry came inat six o'clock, he found him crying,

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as one whose heart will break.It was not till the third day
that he ventured to go out again. There was something in the clear,
pine scented air of that winter morningthat seemed to bring him back his joyousness
and his ardor for life. Butit was not merely the physical conditions of

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environment that had caused the change.His own nature had revolted against the excess
of anguish that had sought to maimand mar the perfection of its calm,
with subtle and finely wrought temperaments.Is always so. Their strong passions must
either bruise or bend. They eitherslay the man or themselves die. Shallow

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sorrows and shallow loves live on.The loves and sorrows that are great are
destroyed by their own plenitude. Besides, he had convinced himself that he had
been the victim of a terror strickenimagination, and looked back now on his
fears with something of pity and nota little of contempt. After breakfast,

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he walked with the Duchess for anhour in the garden, and then drove
across the park to join the shootingparty. The crisp frost lay like salt
upon the grass. The sky wasan inverted cup of blue metal. A
thin film of ice bordered the flat, reed grown lake. At the corner

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of the pine wood, he caughtsight of Sir Jeoffrey Clouston, the Duchess's
brother, jerking two spent cartridges outof his gun. He jumped from the
cart, and, having told thegroom to take the mare home, made
his way towards his guest through thewithered bracken and rough undergrowth. Have you
had good sport, Geoffrey, heasked, Not very good, Dorian,

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I think most of the birds havegone her the open. I dare say
it will be better after lunch,when we get to new ground. Dorian
strode along by his side the keenaromatic air with brown and red lights that
glimmered in the wood. The hoarsecries of the beaters ringing out from time

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to time, and the sharp snapsof the guns that followed fascinated him and
filled him with a sense of delightfulfreedom. He was dominated by the carelessness
of happiness, by the high indifferenceof joy. Suddenly, from a lumply
tussock of old grass, some twentyyards in front of them, with black

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tipped ears erect and long hinder limbs, throwing it forward, started a hare.
It bolted for a thicket of alders. Sir Jeoffrey put his gun to
his shoulder, but there was somethingin the animal's grace of movement that strangely
charmed Dorian Gray, and he criedout at once, don't shoot it,
Geoffrey, let it live. Whatnonsense, Dorian, laughed his companion,

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and as the hare bounded into thethickets, he fired. There were two
cries heard, the cry of ahare in pain, which is dreadful,
the cry of a man in agony, which is worse. Good Heavens,
I have hit a beater, exclaimedSir Jeoffrey. What an ass the man

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was to get in front of theguns. Stop shooting. There he called
out at the top of his voice, A man is hurt. The head
keeper came running up with a stickin his hand. Where sir, where
is he? He shouted? Atthe same time the firing ceased along the
line. Here, answered Sir Jeoffrey, angrily, hurrying towards the thicket.

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Why on earth don't you keep yourmen back? Spoil my shooting for the
day? Dorrian watched them as theyplunged into the altar clump, brushing the
lithe swinging branches aside. In afew moments, they emerged, dragging a
body after them into the sunlight.He turned away in horror. It seems

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to him that misfortune followed wherever hewent. He heard Sir Jeoffrey ask if
the man was really dead, andthe affirmative answer of the keeper. The
wood seems to him to have becomesuddenly alive with faces. There was the
trampling of myriad feats and the lowbuzz of voices. A great copper breasted

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feast came beating through the boughs overhead. After a few moments that were to
him in his perturb state like endlesshours of pain, he felt a hand
laid on his shoulder. He startedand looked round. Dorian said, Lord
Henry, and I had better tellthem that the shooting is stopped for to

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day. It would not look wellto go on. I wish it were
stopped forever, Harry, he answeredbitterly. The whole thing is hideous and
cruel is the man. He couldnot finish the sentence. I am afraid,

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so rejoined Lord Henry. He gotthe whole charge of shot in his
chest. He must have died almostinstantaneously. Come let us go home.
They walked side by side in thedirection of the avenue for nearly fifty yards
without speaking. Then Dorian looked atLord Henry and said, with a heavy

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sigh, it is a had omen, Harry, a very bad omen.
What is asked Lord Henry, Oh, this accident, I suppose, my
dear Pharaoh. It can't be helped. It was the man's own fault.
Why did he get in front ofthe guns? Besides, it is nothing

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to us. It is rather awkwardfor Jeffrey, of course, and does
not do to Pepper beat us.It makes people think that one is a
wild shot, and Geoffrey is not. He shoots very straight. But there
is no use talking about the matter. Dorian shook his head. It is

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a bad omen, Harry, Ifeel as if something horrible were going to
happen to some of us, tomyself, perhaps, he added, passing
his hand over his eyes with agesture of pain. The elder man laughed.
The only horrible thing in the worldis on we, Dorian. That

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is the one sin for which thereis no forgiveness. But we are not
likely to suffer from it. Unlessthese fellows keep chattering about this thing at
dinner, I must tell them thatthe subject is to be tabooed. As
for omens, there is no suchthing as an omen. Destiny does not

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send us heralds. She is toowise or too cruel for that. Besides,
what aunt earth could happen to you, Dorian? You have everything in
the world that a man can want. There is no one who would not
be delighted to change places with you. There is no one with whom I

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would not change places, Harry,Don't laugh like that. I am telling
you the truth. The wretched peasantwho has just died is better off than
I am. I have no terrorof death. It is the coming of
death that terrifies me. Its monstrouswings seemed to wheel in the leaden air

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around me. Good, heavens,don't you see a man moving behind the
trees there, watching me, waitingfor me? Lord Henry looked in the
direction in which the trembling gloved handwas pointing. Yes, he said,
smiling, I see the gardener waitingfor you. I suppose he wants to

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ask you what flowers you wish tohave on the table to night. How
absurdly nervous you are, my dearfellow. You must come and see my
doctor when we get back to town. Dorian heaved a sigh of relief as
he saw the gardener approaching. Theman touched his hat, glanced for a

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moment at Lord Henry in a hesitatingmanner, and then produced a letter,
which he handed to his master.Her grace told me to wait for an
answer, he murmured. Dorrian putthe letter into his pocket. Tell her
Grace that I am coming in,he said coldly. The man turned round

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and went rapidly in the direction ofthe house. How fond women are of
doing dangerous things, laughed Lord Henry. It is one of the qualities in
them that I admire most. Awoman will flirt with anybody in the world
as long as other people are lookingon. How fond you are of saying
dangerous things, Harry, in thepresent instance, you are quite astray.

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I like the Duchess very much,but I don't love her. And the
Duchess loves you very much, butshe likes you less. So you are
excellently matched. You are talking scandal, Harry, and there is never any
basis for scandal. The basis ofevery scandal is an immoral certainty, said

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Lord Henry, lighting a cigarette.You would sacrifice anybody, Harry, for
the sake of an epigram. Theworld goes to the altar of its own
accord, was the answer. Iwish I could love, said Dorian Gray,
with a deep note of pathos inhis voice. But I seem to

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have lost the passion and forgotten thedesire. I am too much concentrated on
myself. My own personality has becomea burden to me. I want to
escape, to go away, toforget. It was silly of me to
come down here at all. Ithink I shall send a wire to Harvey

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to have the yacht got ready.On a yacht, one is safe,
safe from what Dorian, you arein some trouble. Why not tell me
what it is? You know Iwould help you. I can't tell you,
Harry, he answered sadly. AndI dare say it is only a

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fancy of mine. The unfortunate accidenthas upset me. I have a horrible
presentiment that something of the kind mayhappen to me. What nonsense. I
hope it is, but I can'thelp feeling it. Ah, here is
the Duchess, looking like Artemis anda tailor made gown. You see,

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we have come back, Duchess.I have heard all about it, mister
Gray, she answered. Poor Jeffreyis terribly upset. And it seems that
you asked him not to shoot thehare. How curious? Yes, it
was very curious. I don't knowwhat made me say it, some whim.

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I suppose it looked the loveliest oflittle live things. But I am
sorry they told you about the manis a hideous subject. It is an
annoying subject, broke in, LordHenry. It has no psychological value at
all. Now, if Jeffrey haddone the thing on purpose, how interesting

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he would be. I should liketo know someone who had committed a real
murder. How horrid of you,Harry, How horrid of you, Harry
cried the Duchess, isn't it misterGray? Harry, mister Gray is ill
again. He is going to faint. Dorrian drew himself up with an effort

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and smiled. It is nothing,Duchess, he murmured. My nerves are
dreadfully out of order, that isall. I am afraid. I walked
too far this morning. I didn'thear what Harry said. Was it very
bad? You must tell me someother time. I think I must go

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and lie down. You will excuseme, won't you. They had reached
the great flight of steps that ledfrom the conservatory on to the terrace.
As the glass door closed behind Dorian. Lord Henry turned and looked at the
Duchess with his slumberous eyes. Areyou very much in love with him?

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He asked. She did not answerfor some time, but stood gazing at
the landscape. I wish I knew, she said. At last, he
shook his head. Knowledge would befatal. It is the uncertainty that charms
one. A mist makes things wonderful. One may lose one's way always end

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at the same point, My deargladys, what is that disillusion? It
was my debut in life. Shesighed, it came to you crowned.
I am tired of strawberry leaves.They become you only in public. You

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would miss them, said Lord Henry. I will not part with a petal
monmouth has ears, old age isdull of hearing. Has he never been
jealous? I wish he had been. He glanced about, as if in
search of something. What are youlooking for, she inquired? The button

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from your foil, He answered,you have dropped it. She laughed,
I still have the mask. Itmakes your eyes lovelier, was his reply.
She laughed again. Her teeth showedlike white seeds and a scarlet fruit.
Upstairs, in his own room,Dorry and Gray was lying on a

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sofa with terror in every tingling fiberof his body. Life had suddenly become
too hideous a burden for him tobear. The dreadful death of the unlucky
beater, shot in the thicket likea wild animal, had seemed to him
to prefigure death for himself. Also, he had nearly swooned at what Lord

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Henry had said, in a chancemood of cynical jesting. At five o'clock
he rang his bell for his servants. And gave him orders to pack his
things for the night, express totown, and to have the brom at
the door. By eight thirty hewas determined not to sleep another night at
Selby Royal. It was an illomened place. Death walked there in the

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sunlight. The grass of the foresthad been spotted with blood. Then he
wrote a note to Lord Henry,telling him that he was going up to
town to consult his doctor, andasking him to entertain his guests in his
absence. As he was putting itinto the envelope, a knock came to
the door, and his valet informedhim that the head keeper wished to see

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him. He frowned and bit hislip. Send him in, he muttered,
after some moment's hesitation. As soonas the man entered, Dorrian pulled
his check book out of a drawerand spread it out before him. I
suppose you have come about the unfortunateaccident of this morning, Thornton, he

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said, taking up a pen.Yes, sir, answered the gamekeeper was
the poor fellow married? Had heany people dependent on him? Said Dorrian,
looking bored. If so, Ishould not like them to be left
at want, and will send themany sum of money you may think necessary.
We don't know who he is,sir. That is what I took

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the liberty of coming to you about. Don't know who he is, said
Dorrian listlessly. What do you mean, wasn't he one of your men?
No, Sir, never saw himbefore. Seems like a sailor, sir.
The pen dropped from Dorry in Gray'shand, and he felt as if

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his heart had suddenly stopped beating.A sailor, he cried out, Did
you say a sailor, Yes,sir, he looks as if he had
been a sort of sailor. Tattooedon both arms and that kind of thing.
Was there anything found on him,said Dorrian, leaping forward and looking
at the man with startled eyes.Anything that would tell his name? Some

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money, sir, not much,and a six shooter. There was no
name of any kind. But decentlooking man, sir, but rough,
like a sort of sailor, wethink. Dorrian started to his feet.
A terrible hope had passed him.He clutched at it madly. Where is

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the body, he exclaimed, quick, I must see it at once.
It is in an empty stable inthe home farm, sir. The folk
don't like to have that sort ofthing in their houses. They say a
corpse brings bad luck the home farm. Go there at once and meet me.

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Tell one of the grooms to bringmy horse round. No, never
mind, I'll go to the stablesmyself. It will save time. In
less than a quarter of an hour, Dorry and Gray was galloping down the
long avenue as hard as he couldgo. The trees seemed to sweep past
him in spectral procession, and wildshadows to fling themselves across his path.

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Once the mare swerved at the whitegate post and nearly threw him. He
lashed her across the neck with hiscrop. She cleft the dusky air like
an air row. The stones flewfrom her hoofs. At last he reached
the home farm. Two men wereloitering in the yard. He leaped from
the saddle and threw the reins toone of them. In the farthest stable,

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a light was glimmering. Something seemedto tell him that the body was
there, and he hurried to thedoor and put his hand upon the latch.
There he paused for a moment,feeling that he was on the brink
of a discovery that would either makeor mar his life. Then he thrust
the door open and entered on aheap of sacking. In the far corner

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was lying the dead body of aman dressed in a coarse shirt and a
pair of blue trousers. A spottedhandkerchief had been placed over the face.
A coarse candle stuck in a bottlesputtered beside it. Dorry and Gray shuddered.
He felt that his could not bethe hand to take the handkerchief away,

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and called out to one of thefarm servants to come to him.
Take that thing off the face.I wish to see it, he said,
clutching at the door post for support. When the farm servant had done
so, he stepped forward, acry of joy broke from his lips.
The man who had been shot inthe thicket was James Vain. He stood

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there for some minutes, looking atthe dead body. As he rode home,
his eyes were full of tears,for he knew he was safe.
End of Chapter eighteen.