Before getting into the carriage to drive back to his brother’s, I ascertained that he did not need any money.  He told me that he had sufficient even for the expenses of a second trial:  this surprised me greatly, for he was very careless about money; but I found out from him later that a very noble and cultured woman, a friend of both of us, Miss S——­, a Jewess by race tho’ not by religion, had written to him asking if she could help him financially, as she had been distressed by hearing of his bankruptcy, and feared that he might be in need.  If that were the case she begged him to let her be his banker, in order that he might be properly defended.  He wrote in reply, saying that he was indeed in uttermost distress, that he wanted money, too, to help his mother as he had always helped her, and that he supposed the expenses of the second trial would be from L500 to L1,000.  Thereupon Miss S——­ sent him a cheque for L1,000, assuring him that it cost her little even in self-sacrifice, and declaring that it was only inadequate recognition of the pleasure she had had through his delightful talks.  Such actions are beyond praise; it is the perfume of such sweet and noble human sympathy that makes this wild beasts’ cage of a world habitable for men.

Before parting we had agreed to meet a few nights afterwards at Mrs. Leverson’s, where he had been invited to dinner, and where I also had been invited.  By that time, I thought to myself, all my preparations would be perfected.

Looking back now I see clearly that my affection for Oscar Wilde dates from his confession to me that afternoon.  I had been a friend of his for years; but what had bound us together had been purely intellectual, a community of literary tastes and ambitions.  Now his trust in me and frankness had thrown down the barrier between us; and made me conscious of the extraordinary femininity and gentle weakness of his nature, and, instead of condemning him as I have always condemned that form of sexual indulgence, I felt only pity for him and a desire to protect and help him.  From that day on our friendship became intimate:  I began to divine him; I knew now that his words would always be more generous and noble than his actions; knew too that I must take his charm of manner and vivacity of intercourse for real virtues, and indeed they were as real as the beauty of flowers; and I was aware as by some sixth sense that, where his vanity was concerned, I might expect any injustice from him.  I was sure beforehand, however, that I should always forgive him, or rather that I should always accept whatever he did and love him for the charm and sweetness and intellect in him and hold myself more than recompensed for anything I might be able to do, by his delightful companionship.

CHAPTER XVI

In spite of the wit of the hostess and her exquisite cordiality, our dinner at Mrs. Leverson’s was hardly a success.  Oscar was not himself; contrary to his custom he sat silent and downcast.  From time to time he sighed heavily, and his leaden dejection gradually infected all of us.  I was not sorry, for I wanted to get him away early; by ten o’clock we had left the house and were in the Cromwell Road.  He preferred to walk:  without his noticing it I turned up Queen’s Gate towards the park.  After walking for ten minutes I said to him: