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"I have not the slightest idea. If Basil chooses to hide himself,

it is no business of mine. If he is dead, I don't want to think

about him. Death is the only thing that ever terrifies me. I hate

it."

"Why?" said the younger man wearily.

"Because," said Lord Henry, passing beneath his nostrils the gilt

trellis of an open vinaigrette box, "one can survive everything

nowadays except that. Death and vulgarity are the only two facts

in the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away. Let us

have our coffee in the music-room, Dorian. You must play Chopin

to me. The man with whom my wife ran away played Chopin

exquisitely. Poor Victoria! I was very fond of her. The house is

rather lonely without her. Of course, married life is merely a

habit, a bad habit. But then one regrets the loss even of one's

worst habits. Perhaps one regrets them the most. They are such an

essential part of one's personality."