道林格雷的画像_奥斯卡·王尔德-第6节

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e　is　absolutely　nothing　in　the　world　but　youth！〃

dorian　gray　listened；　open…eyed　and　wondering。　the　spray　of　lilac　fell　from　his　hand　upon　the　gravel。　a　furry　bee　came　and　buzzed　round　it　for　a　moment。　then　it　began　to　scramble　all　over　the　oval　stellated　globe　of　the　tiny　blossoms。　he　watched　it　with　that　strange　interest　in　trivial　things　that　we　try　to　develop　when　things　of　high　import　make　us　afraid；　or　when　we　are　stirred　by　some　new　emotion　for　which　we　cannot　find　expression；　or　when　some　thought　that　terrifies　us　lays　sudden　siege　to　the　brain　and　calls　on　us　to　yield。　after　a　time　the　bee　flew　away。　he　saw　it　creeping　into　the　stained　trumpet　of　a　tyrian　convolvulus。　the　flower　seemed　to　quiver；　and　then　swayed　gently　to　and　fro。

suddenly　the　painter　appeared　at　the　door　of　the　studio　and　made　staccato　signs　for　them　to　e　in。　they　turned　to　each　other　and　smiled。

〃i　am　waiting；〃　he　cried。　〃do　e　in。　the　light　is　quite　perfect；　and　you　can　bring　your　drinks。〃

they　rose　up　and　sauntered　down　the　walk　together。　two　green…and…white　butterflies　fluttered　past　them；　and　in　the　pear…tree　at　the　corner　of　the　garden　a　thrush　began　to　sing。

〃you　are　glad　you　have　met　me；　mr。　gray；〃　said　lord　henry；　looking　at　him。

〃yes；　i　am　glad　now。　i　wonder　shall　i　always　be　glad？〃

〃always！　that　is　a　dreadful　word。　it　makes　me　shudder　when　i　hear　it。　women　are　so　fond　of　using　it。　they　spoil　every　romance　by　trying　to　make　it　last　for　ever。　it　is　a　meaningless　word；　too。　the　only　difference　between　a　caprice　and　a　lifelong　passion　is　that　the　caprice　lasts　a　little　longer。〃

as　they　entered　the　studio；　dorian　gray　put　his　hand　upon　lord　henrys　arm。　〃in　that　case；　let　our　friendship　be　a　caprice；〃　he　murmured；　flushing　at　his　own　boldness；　then　stepped　up　on　the　platform　and　resumed　his　pose。

lord　henry　flung　himself　into　a　large　wicker　arm…chair　and　watched　him。　the　sweep　and　dash　of　the　brush　on　the　canvas　made　the　only　sound　that　broke　the　stillness；　except　when；　now　and　then；　hallward　stepped　back　to　look　at　his　work　from　a　distance。　in　the　slanting　beams　that　streamed　through　the　open　doorway　the　dust　danced　and　was　golden。　the　heavy　scent　of　the　roses　seemed　to　brood　over　everything。

after　about　a　quarter　of　an　hour　hallward　stopped　painting；　looked　for　a　long　time　at　dorian　gray；　and　then　for　a　long　time　at　the　picture；　biting　the　end　of　one　of　his　huge　brushes　and　frowning。　〃it　is　quite　finished；〃　he　cried　at　last；　and　stooping　down　he　wrote　his　name　in　long　vermilion　letters　on　the　left…hand　corner　of　the　canvas。

lord　henry　came　over　and　examined　the　picture。　it　was　certainly　a　wonderful　work　of　art；　and　a　wonderful　likeness　as　well。

〃my　dear　fellow；　i　congratulate　you　most　warmly；〃　he　said。　〃it　is　the　finest　portrait　of　modern　times。　mr。　gray；　e　over　and　look　at　yourself。〃

the　lad　started；　as　if　awakened　from　some　dream。

〃is　it　really　finished？〃　he　murmured；　stepping　down　from　the　platform。

〃quite　finished；〃　said　the　painter。　〃and　you　have　sat　splendidly　to…day。　i　am　awfully　obliged　to　you。〃

〃that　is　entirely　due　to　me；〃　broke　in　lord　henry。　〃isnt　it；　mr。　gray？〃

dorian　made　no　answer；　but　passed　listlessly　in　front　of　his　picture　and　turned　towards　it。　when　he　saw　it　he　drew　back；　and　his　cheeks　flushed　for　a　moment　with　pleasure。　a　look　of　joy　came　into　his　eyes；　as　if　he　had　recognized　himself　for　the　first　time。　he　stood　there　motionless　and　in　wonder；　dimly　conscious　that　hallward　was　speaking　to　him；　but　not　catching　the　meaning　of　his　words。　the　sense　of　his　own　beauty　came　on　him　like　a　revelation。　he　had　never　felt　it　before。　basil　hallwards　pliments　had　seemed　to　him　to　be　merely　the　charming　exaggeration　of　friendship。　he　had　listened　to　them；　laughed　at　them；　forgotten　them。　they　had　not　influenced　his　nature。　then　had　e　lord　henry　wotton　with　his　strange　panegyric　on　youth；　his　terrible　warning　of　its　brevity。　that　had　stirred　him　at　the　time；　and　now；　as　he　stood　gazing　at　the　shadow　of　his　own　loveliness；　the　full　reality　of　the　description　flashed　across　him。　yes；　there　would　be　a　day　when　his　face　would　be　wrinkled　and　wizen；　his　eyes　dim　and　colourless；　the　grace　of　his　figure　broken　and　deformed。　the　scarlet　would　pass　away　from　his　lips　and　the　gold　steal　from　his　hair。　the　life　that　was　to　make　his　soul　would　mar　his　body。　he　would　bee　dreadful；　hideous；　and　uncouth。

as　he　thought　of　it；　a　sharp　pang　of　pain　struck　through　him　like　a　knife　and　made　each　delicate　fibre　of　his　nature　quiver。　his　eyes　deepened　into　amethyst；　and　across　them　came　a　mist　of　tears。　he　felt　as　if　a　hand　of　ice　had　been　laid　upon　his　heart。

〃dont　you　like　it？〃　cried　hallward　at　last；　stung　a　little　by　the　lads　silence；　not　understanding　what　it　meant。

〃of　course　he　likes　it；〃　said　lord　henry。　〃who　wouldnt　like　it？　it　is　one　of　the　greatest　things　in　modern　art。　i　will　give　you　anything　you　like　to　ask　for　it。　i　must　have　it。〃

〃it　is　not　my　property；　harry。〃

〃whose　property　is　it？〃

〃dorians；　of　course；〃　answered　the　painter。

〃he　is　a　very　lucky　fellow。〃

〃how　sad　it　is！〃　murmured　dorian　gray　with　his　eyes　still　fixed　upon　his　own　portrait。　〃how　sad　it　is！　i　shall　grow　old；　and　horrible；　and　dreadful。　but　this　picture　will　remain　always　young。　it　will　never　be　older　than　this　particular　day　of　june。　。　。　。　if　it　were　only　the　other　way！　if　it　were　i　who　was　to　be　always　young；　and　the　picture　that　was　to　grow　old！　for　thatfor　thati　would　give　everything！　yes；　there　is　nothing　in　the　whole　world　i　would　not　give！　i　would　give　my　soul　for　that！〃

〃you　would　hardly　care　for　such　an　arrangement；　basil；〃　cried　lord　henry；　laughing。　〃it　would　be　rather　hard　lines　on　your　work。〃

〃i　should　object　very　strongly；　harry；〃　said　hallward。

dorian　gray　turned　and　looked　at　him。　〃i　believe　you　would；　basil。　you　like　your　art　better　than　your　friends。　i　am　no　more　to　you　than　a　green　bronze　figure。　hardly　as　much；　i　dare　say。〃

the　painter　stared　in　amazement。　it　was　so　unlike　dorian　to　speak　like　that。　what　had　happened？　he　seemed　quite　angry。　his　face　was　flushed　and　his　cheeks　burning。

〃yes；〃　he　continued；　〃i　am　less　to　you　than　your　ivory　hermes　or　your　silver　faun。　you　will　like　them　always。　how　long　will　you　like　me？　till　i　have　my　first　wrinkle；　i　suppose。　i　know；　now；　that　when　one　loses　ones　good　looks；　whatever　they　may　be；　one　loses　everything。　your　picture　has　taught　me　that。　lord　henry　wotton　is　perfectly　right。　youth　is　the　only　thing　worth　having。　when　i　find　that　i　am　growing　old；　i　shall　kill　myself。〃

hallward　turned　pale　and　caught　his　hand。　〃dorian！　dorian！〃　he　cried；　〃dont　talk　like　that。　i　have　never　had　such　a　friend　as　you；　and　i　shall　never　have　such　another。　you　are　not　jealous　of　material　things；　are　you？　you　who　are　finer　than　any　of　them！〃

〃i　am　jealous　of　everything　whose　beauty　does　not　die。　i　am　jealous　of　the　portrait　you　have　painted　of　me。　why　should　it　keep　what　i　must　lose？　every　moment　that　passes　takes　something　from　me　and　gives　something　to　it。　oh；　if　it　were　only　the　other　way！　if　the　picture　could　change；　and　i　could　be　always　what　i　am　now！　why　did　you　paint　it？　it　will　mock　me　some　daymock　me　horribly！〃　the　hot　tears　welled　into　his　eyes；　he　tore　his　hand　away　and；　flinging　himself　on　the　divan；　he　buried　his　face　in　the　cushions；　as　though　he　was　praying。

〃this　is　your　doing；　harry；〃　said　the　painter　bitterly。

lord　henry　shrugged　his　shoulders。　〃it　is　the　real　dorian　gray　that　is　all。〃

〃it　is　not。〃

〃if　it　is　not；　what　have　i　to　do　with　it？〃

〃you　should　have　gone　away　when　i　asked　you；〃　he　muttered。

〃i　stayed　when　you　asked　me；〃　was　lord　henrys　answer。

〃harry；　i　cant　quarrel　with　my　two　best　friends　at　once；　but　between　you　both　you　have　made　me　hate　the　finest　piece　of　work　i　have　ever　done；　and　i　will　destroy　it。　what　is　it　but　canvas　and　colour？　i　will　not　let　it　e　across　our　three　lives　and　mar　them。〃

dorian　gray　lifted　his　golden　head　from　the　pillow；　and　with　pallid　face　and　tear…stained　eyes；　looked　at　him　as　he　walked　over　to　the　deal　painting…table　that　was　set　beneath　the　high　curtained　window。　what　was　he　doing　there？　his　fingers　were　straying　about　among　the　litter　of　tin　tubes　and　dry　brushes；　seeking　for　something。　yes；　it　was　for　the　long　palette…knife；　with　its　thin　blade　of　lithe　steel。　he　had　found　it　at　last。　he　was　going　to　rip　up　the　canvas。

with　a　stifled　sob　the　lad　leaped　from　the　couch；　and；　rushing　over　to　hallward；　tore　the　knife　out　of　his　hand；　and　flung　it　to　the　end　of　the　studio。　〃dont；　basil；　dont！〃　he　cried。　〃it　would　be　murder！〃

〃i　am　glad　you　appreciate　my　work　at　last；　dorian；〃　said　the　painter　coldly　when　he　had　recovered　from　his　surprise。　〃i　never　thought　you　would。〃

〃appreciate　it？　i　am　in　love　with　it；　basil。　it　is　part　of　myself。　i　feel　that。〃

〃well；　as　soon　as　you　are　dry；　you　shall　be　varnished；　and　framed；　and　sent　home。　then　you　can　do　what　you　like　with　yourself。〃　and　he　walked　across　the　room　and　rang　the　bell　for　tea。　〃you　will　have　tea；　of　course；　dorian？　and　so　will　you；　harry？　or　do　you　object　to　such　simple　pleasures？〃

〃i　adore　simple　pleasures；〃　said　lord　henry。　〃they　are　the　last　refuge　of　the　plex。　but　i　dont　like　scenes；　except　on　the　stag