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Suddenly he started . His eyes grew strangely bright , and he gnawed nervously at his underlip . Between two of the windows stood a large Florentine cabinet , made out of ebony and inlaid with ivory and blue lapis . He watched it as though it were a thing that could fascinate and make afraid , as though it held something that he longed for and yet almost loathed . His breath quickened . A mad craving came over him . He lit a cigarette and then threw it away . His eyelids drooped till the long fringed lashes almost touched his cheek . But he still watched the cabinet . At last he got up from the sofa on which he had been lying , went over to it , and having unlocked it , touched some hidden spring . A triangular drawer passed slowly out . His fingers moved instinctively towards it , dipped in , and closed on something . It was a small Chinese box of black and gold - dust lacquer , elaborately wrought , the sides patterned with curved waves , and the silken cords hung with round crystals and tasselled in plaited metal threads . He opened it . Inside was a green paste , waxy in lustre , the odour curiously heavy and persistent . He hesitated for some moments , with a strangely immobile smile upon his face . Then shivering , though the atmosphere of the room was terribly hot , he drew himself up and glanced at the clock . It was twenty minutes to twelve . He put the box back , shutting the cabinet doors as he did so , and went into his bedroom . As midnight was striking bronze blows upon the dusky air , Dorian Gray , dressed commonly , and with a muffler wrapped round his throat , crept quietly out of his house . In Bond Street he found a hansom with a good horse . He hailed it and in a low voice gave the driver an address . The man shook his head . “ It is too far for me , ” he muttered . “ Here is a sovereign for you , ” said Dorian . “ You shall have another if you drive fast . ” “ All right , sir , ” answered the man , “ you will be there in an hour , ” and after his fare had got in he turned his horse round and drove rapidly towards the river . CHAPTER XVI . A cold rain began to fall , and the blurred street - lamps looked ghastly in the dripping mist . The public - houses were just closing , and dim men and women were clustering in broken groups round their doors . From some of the bars came the sound of horrible laughter . In others , drunkards brawled and screamed . Lying back in the hansom , with his hat pulled over his forehead , Dorian Gray watched with listless eyes the sordid shame of the great city , and now and then he repeated to himself the words that Lord Henry had said to him on the first day they had met , “ To cure the soul by means of the senses , and the senses by means of the soul . ” Yes , that was the secret . He had often tried it , and would try it again now . There were opium dens where one could buy oblivion , dens of horror where the memory of old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were new .
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