Читать книгу Dorian Gray - John Garavaglia - Страница 51

George saw his son’s puzzled expression, elaborating, “It’s a symbol of us returning to dust. From dust we were created and to dust we will return.”

“You mean, ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust?’”

“That’s exactly where we get that from.”

“Oh.”

It was the end of all things for Dorian’s mother, and as he watched the coffin being lowered into the cold earth he could feel his heart descended to a lower place in his chest. He knew that it would remain there forever, just as his mother would remain here in the soil until the sun itself buried to a cinder in the sky.

Dorian wanted to scream.

He did not.

George took his arm and led him away from the grave, but once, for a fleeting moment, the guardian turned and looked back. Not at the grave, but at Dorian.

Dorian stood there for a long, long time, watching him go.

He wiped his face with his hands as if to cleanse it off more than tears.

A crowd of people, all of whom had spoken condolences to Dorian, began to walk slowly away from the gravesite. Dorian stood beside the Lords until the coffin was out of sight and then turned toward the Town car. It started to rain, and the wind was cold.

JOHN GRAVAGLIA

• 51 •