Lo pane altrui; e com' e duro calle
Lo scendere e 'l salir per l'altrui scale."

The impression made by Oscar that evening was not only of self-indulgence but
of over-confidence. I could not imagine what had given him this insolent self-
complacence. I wanted to get by myself and think. Prosperity was certainly
doing him no good.

All the while the opposition to him, I felt, was growing in force. How could I
verify this impression, I asked myself, so as to warn him effectually?

I decided to give a lunch to him, and on purpose I put on the invitations: "To
meet Mr. Oscar Wilde and hear a new story." Out of a dozen invitations sent out
to men, seven or eight were refused, three or four telling me in all kindness
that they would rather not meet Oscar Wilde. This confirmed my worst fears:
when Englishmen speak out in this way the dislike must be near revolt.

I gave the lunch and saw plainly enough that my forebodings were justified.
Oscar was more self-confident than ever, but his talk did not suffer; indeed,
it seemed to improve. At this lunch he told the charming fable of "Narcissus,"
which is certainly one of his most characteristic short stories.

"When Narcissus died the Flowers of the Field were plunged in grief, and asked
the River for drops of water that they might mourn for him.

"'Oh,' replied the River, 'if only my drops of water were tears, I should not
have enough to weep for Narcissus myself--I loved him.'

"'How could you help loving Narcissus?' said the flowers, 'so beautiful was he.'