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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde


52

Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they
judge them; sometimes they forgive them.

His mother! He had something on his mind to ask her, something
that he had brooded on for many months of silence. A chance
phrase that he had heard at the theatre, a whispered sneer that had
reached his ears one night as he waited at the stage-door, had set
loose a train of horrible thoughts. He remembered it as if it had
been the lash of a hunting-crop across his face. His brows knit
together into a wedge-like furrow, and with a twitch of pain he bit
his under-lip.

“You are not listening to a word I am saying, Jim,” cried Sibyl,
“and I am making the most delightful plans for your future. Do say
something.” “What do you want me to say?” “Oh! that you will be
a good boy, and not forget us,” she answered, smiling at him.

He shrugged his shoulders. “You are more likely to forget me, than
I am to forget you, Sibyl.” She flushed. “What do you mean, Jim?”
she asked.

“You have a new friend, I hear. Who is he? Why have you not told
me about him? He means you no good.” “Stop, Jim!” she
exclaimed. “You must not say anything against him. I love him.”
“Why, you don’t even know his name,” answered the lad. “Who is
he? I have a right to know.” “He is called Prince Charming. Don’t
you like the name? Oh! you silly boy,! you should never forget it. If
you only saw him, you would think him the most wonderful
person in the world. Some day you will meet him: when you come
back from Australia. You will like him so much. Everybody likes
him, and I... love him. I wish you could come to the theatre to-
night. He is going to be there, and I am to play Juliet. Oh! how I
shall play it! Fancy, Jim, to be in love and play Juliet! To have him
sitting there! To play for his delight! I am afraid I may frighten the
company, frighten or enthrall them. To be in love is to surpass
one’s self. Poor dreadful Mr. Isaacs will be shouting ‘genius’ to his
loafers at the bar.

He has preached me as a dogma; to-night he will announce me as a
revelation. I feel it. And it is all his, his only, Prince Charming, my
wonderful lover, my god of graces. But I am poor beside him.
Poor? What does that matter? When poverty creeps in at the door,
love flies in through the window. Our proverbs want re-writing.
They were made in winter, and it is summer now; spring-time for
me, I think, a very dance of blossoms in blue skies.” “He is a
gentleman,” said the lad, sullenly.

“A Prince!” she cried, musically. “What more do you want?” “He
wants to enslave you.” “I shudder at the thought of being free.”
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