道林格雷的画像_奥斯卡·王尔德-第22节

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d。　i　know　i　am　not。　and　yet　i　must　admit　that　this　thing　that　has　happened　does　not　affect　me　as　it　should。　it　seems　to　me　to　be　simply　like　a　wonderful　ending　to　a　wonderful　play。　it　has　all　the　terrible　beauty　of　a　greek　tragedy；　a　tragedy　in　which　i　took　a　great　part；　but　by　which　i　have　not　been　wounded。〃

〃it　is　an　interesting　question；〃　said　lord　henry；　who　found　an　exquisite　pleasure　in　playing　on　the　lads　unconscious　egotism；　〃an　extremely　interesting　question。　i　fancy　that　the　true　explanation　is　this：　it　often　happens　that　the　real　tragedies　of　life　occur　in　such　an　inartistic　manner　that　they　hurt　us　by　their　crude　violence；　their　absolute　incoherence；　their　absurd　want　of　meaning；　their　entire　lack　of　style。　they　affect　us　just　as　vulgarity　affects　us。　they　give　us　an　impression　of　sheer　brute　force；　and　we　revolt　against　that。　sometimes；　however；　a　tragedy　that　possesses　artistic　elements　of　beauty　crosses　our　lives。　if　these　elements　of　beauty　are　real；　the　whole　thing　simply　appeals　to　our　sense　of　dramatic　effect。　suddenly　we　find　that　we　are　no　longer　the　actors；　but　the　spectators　of　the　play。　or　rather　we　are　both。　we　watch　ourselves；　and　the　mere　wonder　of　the　spectacle　enthralls　us。　in　the　present　case；　what　is　it　that　has　really　happened？　some　one　has　killed　herself　for　love　of　you。　i　wish　that　i　had　ever　had　such　an　experience。　it　would　have　made　me　in　love　with　love　for　the　rest　of　my　life。　the　people　who　have　adored　methere　have　not　been　very　many；　but　there　have　been　somehave　always　insisted　on　living　on；　long　after　i　had　ceased　to　care　for　them；　or　they　to　care　for　me。　they　have　bee　stout　and　tedious；　and　when　i　meet　them；　they　go　in　at　once　for　reminiscences。　that　awful　memory　of　woman！　what　a　fearful　thing　it　is！　and　what　an　utter　intellectual　stagnation　it　reveals！　one　should　absorb　the　colour　of　life；　but　one　should　never　remember　its　details。　details　are　always　vulgar。〃

〃i　must　sow　poppies　in　my　garden；〃　sighed　dorian。

〃there　is　no　necessity；〃　rejoined　his　panion。　〃life　has　always　poppies　in　her　hands。　of　course；　now　and　then　things　linger。　i　once　wore　nothing　but　violets　all　through　one　season；　as　a　form　of　artistic　mourning　for　a　romance　that　would　not　die。　ultimately；　however；　it　did　die。　i　forget　what　killed　it。　i　think　it　was　her　proposing　to　sacrifice　the　whole　world　for　me。　that　is　always　a　dreadful　moment。　it　fills　one　with　the　terror　of　eternity。　wellwould　you　believe　it？a　week　ago；　at　lady　hampshires；　i　found　myself　seated　at　dinner　next　the　lady　in　question；　and　she　insisted　on　going　over　the　whole　thing　again；　and　digging　up　the　past；　and　raking　up　the　future。　i　had　buried　my　romance　in　a　bed　of　asphodel。　she　dragged　it　out　again　and　assured　me　that　i　had　spoiled　her　life。　i　am　bound　to　state　that　she　ate　an　enormous　dinner；　so　i　did　not　feel　any　anxiety。　but　what　a　lack　of　taste　she　showed！　the　one　charm　of　the　past　is　that　it　is　the　past。　but　women　never　know　when　the　curtain　has　fallen。　they　always　want　a　sixth　act；　and　as　soon　as　the　interest　of　the　play　is　entirely　over；　they　propose　to　continue　it。　if　they　were　allowed　their　own　way；　every　edy　would　have　a　tragic　ending；　and　every　tragedy　would　culminate　in　a　farce。　they　are　charmingly　artificial；　but　they　have　no　sense　of　art。　you　are　more　fortunate　than　i　am。　i　assure　you；　dorian；　that　not　one　of　the　women　i　have　known　would　have　done　for　me　what　sibyl　vane　did　for　you。　ordinary　women　always　console　themselves。　some　of　them　do　it　by　going　in　for　sentimental　colours。　never　trust　a　woman　who　wears　mauve；　whatever　her　age　may　be；　or　a　woman　over　thirty…five　who　is　fond　of　pink　ribbons。　it　always　means　that　they　have　a　history。　others　find　a　great　consolation　in　suddenly　discovering　the　good　qualities　of　their　husbands。　they　flaunt　their　conjugal　felicity　in　ones　face；　as　if　it　were　the　most　fascinating　of　sins。　religion　consoles　some。　its　mysteries　have　all　the　charm　of　a　flirtation；　a　woman　once　told　me；　and　i　can　quite　understand　it。　besides；　nothing　makes　one　so　vain　as　being　told　that　one　is　a　sinner。　conscience　makes　egotists　of　us　all。　yes；　there　is　really　no　end　to　the　consolations　that　women　find　in　modern　life。　indeed；　i　have　not　mentioned　the　most　important　one。〃

〃what　is　that；　harry？〃　said　the　lad　listlessly。

〃oh；　the　obvious　consolation。　taking　some　one　elses　admirer　when　one　loses　ones　own。　in　good　society　that　always　whitewashes　a　woman。　but　really；　dorian；　how　different　sibyl　vane　must　have　been　from　all　the　women　one　meets！　there　is　something　to　me　quite　beautiful　about　her　death。　i　am　glad　i　am　living　in　a　century　when　such　wonders　happen。　they　make　one　believe　in　the　reality　of　the　things　we　all　play　with；　such　as　romance；　passion；　and　love。〃

〃i　was　terribly　cruel　to　her。　you　forget　that。〃

〃i　am　afraid　that　women　appreciate　cruelty；　downright　cruelty；　more　than　anything　else。　they　have　wonderfully　primitive　instincts。　we　have　emancipated　them；　but　they　remain　slaves　looking　for　their　masters；　all　the　same。　they　love　being　dominated。　i　am　sure　you　were　splendid。　i　have　never　seen　you　really　and　absolutely　angry；　but　i　can　fancy　how　delightful　you　looked。　and；　after　all；　you　said　something　to　me　the　day　before　yesterday　that　seemed　to　me　at　the　time　to　be　merely　fanciful；　but　that　i　see　now　was　absolutely　true；　and　it　holds　the　key　to　everything。〃

〃what　was　that；　harry？〃

〃you　said　to　me　that　sibyl　vane　represented　to　you　all　the　heroines　of　romancethat　she　was　desdemona　one　night；　and　ophelia　the　other；　that　if　she　died　as　juliet；　she　came　to　life　as　imogen。〃

〃she　will　never　e　to　life　again　now；〃　muttered　the　lad；　burying　his　face　in　his　hands。

〃no；　she　will　never　e　to　life。　she　has　played　her　last　part。　but　you　must　think　of　that　lonely　death　in　the　tawdry　dressing…room　simply　as　a　strange　lurid　fragment　from　some　jacobean　tragedy；　as　a　wonderful　scene　from　webster；　or　ford；　or　cyril　tourneur。　the　girl　never　really　lived；　and　so　she　has　never　really　died。　to　you　at　least　she　was　always　a　dream；　a　phantom　that　flitted　through　shakespeares　plays　and　left　them　lovelier　for　its　presence；　a　reed　through　which　shakespeares　music　sounded　richer　and　more　full　of　joy。　the　moment　she　touched　actual　life；　she　marred　it；　and　it　marred　her；　and　so　she　passed　away。　mourn　for　ophelia；　if　you　like。　put　ashes　on　your　head　because　cordelia　was　strangled。　cry　out　against　heaven　because　the　daughter　of　brabantio　died。　but　dont　waste　your　tears　over　sibyl　vane。　she　was　less　real　than　they　are。〃

there　was　a　silence。　the　evening　darkened　in　the　room。　noiselessly；　and　with　silver　feet；　the　shadows　crept　in　from　the　garden。　the　colours　faded　wearily　out　of　things。

after　some　time　dorian　gray　looked　up。　〃you　have　explained　me　to　myself；　harry；〃　he　murmured　with　something　of　a　sigh　of　relief。　〃i　felt　all　that　you　have　said；　but　somehow　i　was　afraid　of　it；　and　i　could　not　express　it　to　myself。　how　well　you　know　me！　but　we　will　not　talk　again　of　what　has　happened。　it　has　been　a　marvellous　experience。　that　is　all。　i　wonder　if　life　has　still　in　store　for　me　anything　as　marvellous。〃

〃life　has　everything　in　store　for　you；　dorian。　there　is　nothing　that　you；　with　your　extraordinary　good　looks；　will　not　be　able　to　do。〃

〃but　suppose；　harry；　i　became　haggard；　and　old；　and　wrinkled？　what　then？〃

〃ah；　then；〃　said　lord　henry；　rising　to　go；　〃then；　my　dear　dorian；　you　would　have　to　fight　for　your　victories。　as　it　is；　they　are　brought　to　you。　no；　you　must　keep　your　good　looks。　we　live　in　an　age　that　reads　too　much　to　be　wise；　and　that　thinks　too　much　to　be　beautiful。　we　cannot　spare　you。　and　now　you　had　better　dress　and　drive　down　to　the　club。　we　are　rather　late；　as　it　is。〃

〃i　think　i　shall　join　you　at　the　opera；　harry。　i　feel　too　tired　to　eat　anything。　what　is　the　number　of　your　sisters　box？〃

〃twenty…seven；　i　believe。　it　is　on　the　grand　tier。　you　will　see　her　name　on　the　door。　but　i　am　sorry　you　wont　e　and　dine。〃

〃i　dont　feel　up　to　it；〃　said　dorian　listlessly。　〃but　i　am　awfully　obliged　to　you　for　all　that　you　have　said　to　me。　you　are　certainly　my　best　friend。　no　one　has　ever　understood　me　as　you　have。〃

〃we　are　only　at　the　beginning　of　our　friendship；　dorian；〃　answered　lord　henry；　shaking　him　by　the　hand。　〃good…bye。　i　shall　see　you　before　nine…thirty；　i　hope。　remember；　patti　is　singing。〃

as　he　closed　the　door　behind　him；　dorian　gray　touched　the　bell；　and　in　a　few　minutes　victor　appeared　with　the　lamps　and　drew　the　blinds　down。　he　waited　impatiently　for　him　to　go。　the　man　seemed　to　take　an　interminable　time　over　everything。

as　soon　as　he　had　left；　he　rushed　to　the　screen　and　drew　it　back。　no；　there　was　no　further　change　in　the　picture。　it　had　received　the　news　of　sibyl　vanes　death　before　he　had　known　of　it　himself。　it　was　conscious　of　the　events　of　life　as　they　occurred。　the　vicious　cruelty　that　marred　the　fine　lines　of　the　mouth　had；　no　doubt；　appeared　at　the　very　moment　that　the　girl　had　drunk　the　poison；　whatever　it　was。　or　was　it　indifferent　to　results？　did　it　merely　take　cognizance　of　what　passed　within　the　soul？　he　wondered；　and　hoped　that　some　day　he　would　see　the　change　taking　place　before　his　very　eyes；　shuddering　as　he　hoped　it。

poor　sibyl！　what　a　romance　it　had　all　been！　she　had　often　mimick