The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light
summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the
open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the
pink-floweringthorn.
From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was
lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry
Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured
blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to
bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the
fantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflittedacrossthelongtussore-silkcurtains
that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of
momentaryJapaneseeffect,andmakinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-faced
painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily
immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen
murmurofthebeesshoulderingtheirwaythroughthelongunmowngrass,or
circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the
stragglingwoodbine,seemedtomakethestillnessmoreoppressive.Thedim
roarofLondonwaslikethebourdonnoteofadistantorgan.
Inthecentreoftheroom,clampedtoanuprighteasel,stoodthefull-length
portrait ofa young man of extraordinary personalbeauty, and in front of it,
somelittledistanceaway,wassittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,whose
sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public
excitementandgaverisetosomanystrangeconjectures.
Asthepainterlookedatthegraciousandcomelyformhehadsoskilfully
mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed
abouttolingerthere.Buthesuddenlystartedup,andclosinghiseyes,placed
his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain
somecuriousdreamfromwhichhefearedhemightawake.
"Itisyourbestwork,Basil,thebestthingyouhaveeverdone,"saidLord
Henrylanguidly."YoumustcertainlysenditnextyeartotheGrosvenor.The
Academyistoolargeandtoovulgar.WheneverIhavegonethere,therehave
beeneithersomanypeoplethatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepictures,which
wasdreadful,orsomanypicturesthatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepeople,
whichwasworse.TheGrosvenorisreallytheonlyplace."
"Idon'tthinkIshallsenditanywhere,"heanswered,tossinghisheadback
inthatoddwaythatusedtomakehisfriendslaughathimatOxford."No,I
won'tsenditanywhere."
Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement
throughthethinbluewreathsofsmokethatcurledupinsuchfancifulwhorls