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〃i am sorry to have had to wake you up； francis；〃 he said； stepping in； 〃but i had forgotten my latch…key。 what time is it？〃
〃ten minutes past two； sir；〃 answered the man； looking at the clock and blinking。
〃ten minutes past two？ how horribly late！ you must wake me at nine to…morrow。 i have some work to do。〃
〃all right； sir。〃
〃did any one call this evening？〃
〃mr。 hallward； sir。 he stayed here till eleven； and then be went away to catch his train。〃
〃oh！ i am sorry i didnt see him。 did he leave any message？〃
〃no； sir； except that he would write to you from paris； if he did not find you at the club。〃
〃that will do； francis。 dont forget to call me at nine to…morrow。〃
〃no； sir。〃
the man shambled down the passage in his slippers。
dorian gray threw his hat and coat upon the table and passed into the library。 for a quarter of an hour he walked up and down the room； biting his lip and thinking。 then he took down the blue book from one of the shelves and began to turn over the leaves。 〃alan campbell； 152； hertford street； mayfair。〃 yes； that was the man he wanted。
。。
Chapter 14
～
chapter 14
at nine oclock the next morning his servant came in with a cup of chocolate on a tray and opened the shutters。 dorian was sleeping quite peacefully； lying on his right side； with one hand underneath his cheek。 he looked like a boy who had been tired out with play； or study。
the man had to touch him twice on the shoulder before he woke； and as he opened his eyes a faint smile passed across his lips； as though he had been lost in some delightful dream。 yet he had not dreamed at all。 his night had been untroubled by any images of pleasure or of pain。 but youth smiles without any reason。 it is one of its chiefest charms。
he turned round； and leaning upon his elbow； began to sip his chocolate。 the mellow november sun came streaming into the room。 the sky was bright； and there was a genial warmth in the air。 it was almost like a morning in may。
gradually the events of the preceding night crept with silent； blood…stained feet into his brain and reconstructed themselves there with terrible distinctness。 he winced at the memory of all that he had suffered； and for a moment the same curious feeling of loathing for basil hallward that had made him kill him as he sat in the chair came back to him； and he grew cold with passion。 the dead man was still sitting there； too； and in the sunlight now。 how horrible that was！ such hideous things were for the darkness； not for the day。
he felt that if he brooded on what he had gone through he would sicken or grow mad。 there were sins whose fascination was more in the memory than in the doing of them； strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions； and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy； greater than any joy they brought； or could ever bring； to the senses。 but this was not one of them。 it was a thing to be driven out of the mind； to be drugged with poppies； to be strangled lest it might strangle one itself。
when the half…hour struck； he passed his hand across his forehead； and then got up hastily and dressed himself with even more than his usual care； giving a good deal of attention to the choice of his necktie and scarf…pin and changing his rings more than once。 he spent a long time also over breakfast； tasting the various dishes； talking to his valet about some new liveries that he was thinking of getting made for the servants at selby； and going through his correspondence。 at some of the letters； he smiled。 three of them bored him。 one he read several times over and then tore up with a slight look of annoyance in his face。 〃that awful thing； a womans memory！〃 as lord henry had once said。
after he had drunk his cup of black coffee； he wiped his lips slowly with a napkin； motioned to his servant to wait； and going over to the table； sat down and wrote two letters。 one he put in his pocket； the other he handed to the valet。
〃take this round to 152； hertford street； francis； and if mr。 campbell is out of town； get his address。〃
as soon as he was alone； he lit a cigarette and began sketching upon a piece of paper； drawing first flowers and bits of architecture； and then human faces。 suddenly he remarked that every face that he drew seemed to have a fantastic likeness to basil hallward。 he frowned； and getting up； went over to the book…case and took out a volume at hazard。 he was determined that he would not think about what had happened until it became absolutely necessary that he should do so。
when he had stretched himself on the sofa； he looked at the title…page of the book。 it was gautiers emaux et camees； charpentiers japanese…paper edition； with the jacquemart etching。 the binding was of citron…green leather； with a design of gilt trellis…work and dotted pomegranates。 it had been given to him by adrian singleton。 as he turned over the pages； his eye fell on the poem about the hand of lacenaire； the cold yellow hand 〃du supplice encore mal lavé：e；〃 with its downy red hairs and its 〃doigts de faune。〃 he glanced at his own white taper fingers； shuddering slightly in spite of himself； and passed on； till he came to those lovely stanzas upon venice：
sur une gamme chromatique；
le sein de peries ruisselant；
la vénus de ladriatique
sort de leau son corps rose et blanc。
les d？mes； sur lazur des ondes
suivant la phrase au pur contour；
senflent me des gorges rondes
que soulève un soupir damour。
lesquif aborde et me dépose；
jetant son amarre au pilier；
devant une fa？ade rose；
sur le marbre dun escalier。
how exquisite they were！ as one read them； one seemed to be floating down the green water…ways of the pink and pearl city； seated in a black gondola with silver prow and trailing curtains。 the mere lines looked to him like those straight lines of turquoise…blue that follow one as one pushes out to the lido。 the sudden flashes of colour reminded him of the gleam of the opal…and…iris…throated birds that flutter round the tall honeybed campanile； or stalk； with such stately grace； through the dim； dust…stained arcades。 leaning back with half…closed eyes； he kept saying over and ov