道林格雷的画像_奥斯卡·王尔德-第26章

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　hair。　the　purple　spilled　from　the　cup　she　was　holding。　the　carnations　of　the　painting　had　withered；　but　the　eyes　were　still　wonderful　in　their　depth　and　brilliancy　of　colour。　they　seemed　to　follow　him　wherever　he　went。

yet　one　had　ancestors　in　literature　as　well　as　in　ones　own　race；　nearer　perhaps　in　type　and　temperament；　many　of　them；　and　certainly　with　an　influence　of　which　one　was　more　absolutely　conscious。　there　were　times　when　it　appeared　to　dorian　gray　that　the　whole　of　history　was　merely　the　record　of　his　own　life；　not　as　he　had　lived　it　in　act　and　circumstance；　but　as　his　imagination　had　created　it　for　him；　as　it　had　been　in　his　brain　and　in　his　passions。　he　felt　that　he　had　known　them　all；　those　strange　terrible　figures　that　had　passed　across　the　stage　of　the　world　and　made　sin　so　marvellous　and　evil　so　full　of　subtlety。　it　seemed　to　him　that　in　some　mysterious　way　their　lives　had　been　his　own。

the　hero　of　the　wonderful　novel　that　had　so　influenced　his　life　had　himself　known　this　curious　fancy。　in　the　seventh　chapter　he　tells　how；　crowned　with　laurel；　lest　lightning　might　strike　him；　he　had　sat；　as　tiberius；　in　a　garden　at　capri；　reading　the　shameful　books　of　elephantis；　while　dwarfs　and　peacocks　strutted　round　him　and　the　flute…player　mocked　the　swinger　of　the　censer；　and；　as　caligula；　had　caroused　with　the　green…shirted　jockeys　in　their　stables　and　supped　in　an　ivory　manger　with　a　jewel…frontleted　horse；　and；　as　domitian；　had　wandered　through　a　corridor　lined　with　marble　mirrors；　looking　round　with　haggard　eyes　for　the　reflection　of　the　dagger　that　was　to　end　his　days；　and　sick　with　that　ennui；　that　terrible　taedium　vitae；　that　es　on　those　to　whom　life　denies　nothing；　and　had　peered　through　a　clear　emerald　at　the　red　shambles　of　the　circus　and　then；　in　a　litter　of　pearl　and　purple　drawn　by　silver…shod　mules；　been　carried　through　the　street　of　pomegranates　to　a　house　of　gold　and　heard　men　cry　on　nero　caesar　as　he　passed　by；　and；　as　elagabalus；　had　painted　his　face　with　colours；　and　plied　the　distaff　among　the　women；　and　brought　the　moon　from　carthage　and　given　her　in　mystic　marriage　to　the　sun。

over　and　over　again　dorian　used　to　read　this　fantastic　chapter；　and　the　two　chapters　immediately　following；　in　which；　as　in　some　curious　tapestries　or　cunningly　wrought　enamels；　were　pictured　the　awful　and　beautiful　forms　of　those　whom　vice　and　blood　and　weariness　had　made　monstrous　or　mad：　filippo；　duke　of　milan；　who　slew　his　wife　and　painted　her　lips　with　a　scarlet　poison　that　her　lover　might　suck　death　from　the　dead　thing　he　fondled；　pietro　barbi；　the　venetian；　known　as　paul　the　second；　who　sought　in　his　vanity　to　assume　the　title　of　formosus；　and　whose　tiara；　valued　at　two　hundred　thousand　florins；　was　bought　at　the　price　of　a　terrible　sin；　gian　maria　visconti；　who　used　hounds　to　chase　living　men　and　whose　murdered　body　was　covered　with　roses　by　a　harlot　who　had　loved　him；　the　borgia　on　his　white　horse；　with　fratricide　riding　beside　him　and　his　mantle　stained　with　the　blood　of　perotto；　pietro　riario；　the　young　cardinal　archbishop　of　florence；　child　and　minion　of　sixtus　iv；　whose　beauty　was　equalled　only　by　his　debauchery；　and　who　received　leonora　of　aragon　in　a　pavilion　of　white　and　crimson　silk；　filled　with　nymphs　and　centaurs；　and　gilded　a　boy　that　he　might　serve　at　the　feast　as　ganymede　or　hylas；　ezzelin；　whose　melancholy　could　be　cured　only　by　the　spectacle　of　death；　and　who　had　a　passion　for　red　blood；　as　other　men　have　for　red　winethe　son　of　the　fiend；　as　was　reported；　and　one　who　had　cheated　his　father　at　dice　when　gambling　with　him　for　his　own　soul；　giambattista　cibo；　who　in　mockery　took　the　name　of　innocent　and　into　whose　torpid　veins　the　blood　of　three　lads　was　infused　by　a　jewish　doctor；　sigismondo　malatesta；　the　lover　of　isotta　and　the　lord　of　rimini；　whose　effigy　was　burned　at　rome　as　the　enemy　of　god　and　man；　who　strangled　polyssena　with　a　napkin；　and　gave　poison　to　ginevra　deste　in　a　cup　of　emerald；　and　in　honour　of　a　shameful　passion　built　a　pagan　church　for　christian　worship；　charles　vi；　who　had　so　wildly　adored　his　brothers　wife　that　a　leper　had　warned　him　of　the　insanity　that　was　ing　on　him；　and　who；　when　his　brain　had　sickened　and　grown　strange；　could　only　be　soothed　by　saracen　cards　painted　with　the　images　of　love　and　death　and　madness；　and；　in　his　trimmed　jerkin　and　jewelled　cap　and　acanthuslike　curls；　grifonetto　baglioni；　who　slew　astorre　with　his　bride；　and　simonetto　with　his　page；　and　whose　eliness　was　such　that；　as　he　lay　dying　in　the　yellow　piazza　of　perugia；　those　who　had　hated　him　could　not　choose　but　weep；　and　atalanta；　who　had　cursed　him；　blessed　him。

there　was　a　horrible　fascination　in　them　all。　he　saw　them　at　night；　and　they　troubled　his　imagination　in　the　day。　the　renaissance　knew　of　strange　manners　of　poisoning　poisoning　by　a　helmet　and　a　lighted　torch；　by　an　embroidered　glove　and　a　jewelled　fan；　by　a　gilded　pomander　and　by　an　amber　chain。　dorian　gray　had　been　poisoned　by　a　book。　there　were　moments　when　he　looked　on　evil　simply　as　a　mode　through　which　he　could　realize　his　conception　of　the　beautiful。





Chapter　12

銆傚皬锛胯�达伎txt澶╁爞
chapter　12

it　was　on　the　ninth　of　november；　the　eve　of　his　own　thirty…eighth　birthday；　as　he　often　remembered　afterwards。

he　was　walking　home　about　eleven　oclock　from　lord　henrys；　where　he　had　been　dining；　and　was　wrapped　in　heavy　furs；　as　the　night　was　cold　and　foggy。　at　the　corner　of　grosvenor　square　and　south　audley　street；　a　man　passed　him　in　the　mist；　walking　very　fast　and　with　the　collar　of　his　grey　ulster　turned　up。　he　had　a　bag　in　his　hand。　dorian　recognized　him。　it　was　basil　hallward。　a　strange　sense　of　fear；　for　which　he　could　not　account；　came　over　him。　he　made　no　sign　of　recognition　and　went　on　quickly　in　the　direction　of　his　own　house。

but　hallward　had　seen　him。　dorian　heard　him　first　stopping　on　the　pavement　and　then　hurrying　after　him。　in　a　few　moments；　his　hand　was　on　his　arm。

〃dorian！　what　an　extraordinary　piece　of　luck！　i　have　been　waiting　for　you　in　your　library　ever　since　nine　oclock。　finally　i　took　pity　on　your　tired　servant　and　told　him　to　go　to　bed；　as　he　let　me　out。　i　am　off　to　paris　by　the　midnight　train；　and　i　particularly　wanted　to　see　you　before　i　left。　i　thought　it　was　you；　or　rather　your　fur　coat；　as　you　passed　me。　but　i　wasnt　quite　sure。　didnt　you　recognize　me？〃

〃in　this　fog；　my　dear　basil？　why；　i　cant　even　recognize　grosvenor　square。　i　believe　my　house　is　somewhere　about　here；　but　i　dont　feel　at　all　certain　about　it。　i　am　sorry　you　are　going　away；　as　i　have　not　seen　you　for　ages。　but　i　suppose　you　will　be　back　soon？〃

〃no：　i　am　going　to　be　out　of　england　for　six　months。　i　intend　to　take　a　studio　in　paris　and　shut　myself　up　till　i　have　finished　a　great　picture　i　have　in　my　head。　however；　it　wasnt　about　myself　i　wanted　to　talk。　here　we　are　at　your　door。　let　me　e　in　for　a　moment。　i　have　something　to　say　to　you。〃

〃i　shall　be　charmed。　but　wont　you　miss　your　train？〃　said　dorian　gray　languidly　as　he　passed　up　the　steps　and　opened　the　door　with　his　latch…key。

the　lamplight　struggled　out　through　the　fog；　and　hallward　looked　at　his　watch。　〃i　have　heaps　of　time；〃　he　answered。　〃the　train　doesnt　go　till　twelve…fifteen；　and　it　is　only　just　eleven。　in　fact；　i　was　on　my　way　to　the　club　to　look　for　you；　when　i　met　you。　you　see；　i　shant　have　any　delay　about　luggage；　as　i　have　sent　on　my　heavy　things。　all　i　have　with　me　is　in　this　bag；　and　i　can　easily　get　to　victoria　in　twenty　minutes。〃

dorian　looked　at　him　and　smiled。　〃what　a　way　for　a　fashionable　painter　to　travel！　a　gladstone　bag　and　an　ulster！　e　in；　or　the　fog　will　get　into　the　house。　and　mind　you　dont　talk　about　anything　serious。　nothing　is　serious　nowadays。　at　least　nothing　should　be。〃

hallward　shook　his　head；　as　he　entered；　and　followed　dorian　into　the　library。　there　was　a　bright　wood　fire　blazing　in　the　large　open　hearth。　the　lamps　were　lit；　and　an　open　dutch　silver　spirit…case　stood；　with　some　siphons　of　soda…water　and　large　cut…glass　tumblers；　on　a　little　marqueterie　table。

〃you　see　your　servant　made　me　quite　at　home；　dorian。　he　gave　me　everything　i　wanted；　including　your　best　gold…tipped　cigarettes。　he　is　a　most　hospitable　creature。　i　like　him　much　better　than　the　frenchman　you　used　to　have。　what　has　bee　of　the　frenchman；　by　the　bye？〃

dorian　shrugged　his　shoulders。　〃i　believe　he　married　lady　radleys　maid；　and　has　established　her　in　paris　as　an　english　dressmaker。　anglomanie　is　very　fashionable　over　there　now；　i　hear。　it　seems　silly　of　the　french；　doesnt　it？　butdo　you　know？he　was　not　at　all　a　bad　servant。　i　never　liked　him；　but　i　had　nothing　to　plain　about。　one　often　imagines　things　that　are　quite　absurd。　he　was　really　very　devoted　to　me　and　seemed　quite　sorry　when　he　went　away。　have　another　brandy…and…soda？　or　would　you　like　hock…and…seltzer？　i　always　take　hock…and…seltzer　myself。　there　is　sure　to　be　some　in　the　next　room。〃

〃thanks；　i　wont　have　anything　more；〃　said　the　painter；　taking　his　cap　and　coat　off　and　throwing　them　on　the　bag　that　he　had　placed　in　the　corner。　〃and　now；　my　dear　fellow；　i　want　to　speak　to　you　seriously。　dont　frown　like　that。　you　make　it　so　much　more　difficult　for　me。〃

〃what　is　it　all　about？〃　cried　dorian　in　his　petulant　way；　flinging　himself　down　on　the　sofa。　〃i　hope　it　is　not　about　myself。　i　am　tired　of　myself　to…night。　i　should　like　to　be　somebody　else。〃

〃it　is　about　yourself；〃　answered　hallward　in　his　grave　deep　voice；　〃and　i　must　say　it　to　you。　i　shall　only　keep　you　half　an　hour。〃

dorian　sighed　and　lit　a　cigarette。　〃half　an　hour！〃　he　murmured。

〃it　is　not　much　to　ask　of　you；　dorian；　and　it　is　entirely　for　your　own　sake　that　i　am　speaking。　i　think　it　right　that　you　should　know　that　the　most　dreadful　things　are　being　said　against　you　in　london。〃

〃i　dont　wish　to　know　anything　about　them。　i　love　scandals　about　other　people；　but　scandals　about　myself　dont　interest　me。　they　have　not　got　the　charm　of　novelty。〃

〃they　must　interest　you；　dorian。　every　gentleman　is　interested　in　his　good　name。　you　dont　want　people　to　talk　of　you　as　something　vile　and　degraded。　of　course；　you　have　your　position；　and　your　wealth；　and　all　that　kind　of　thing。　but　position　and　wealth　are　not　everything。　mind　you；　i　dont　believe　these　rumours　at　all。　at　least；　i　cant　believe　them　when　i　see　you。　sin　is　a　thing　that　writes　itself　across　a　mans　face。　it　cannot　be　concealed。　people　talk　sometimes　of　secret　vices。　there　are　no　such　things。　if　a　wretched　man　has　a　vice；　it　shows　itself　in　the　lines　of　his　mouth；　the　droop　of　his　eyelids；　the　moulding　of　his　hands　even。　somebodyi　wont　mention　his　name；　but　you　know　himcame　to　me　last　year　to　have　his　portrait　done。　i　had　never　seen　him　before；　and　had　never　heard　anything　about　him　at　the　time；　though　i　have　heard　a　good　deal　since。　he　offered　an　extravagant　price。　i　refused　him。　there　was　something　in　the　shape　of　his　fingers　that　i　hated。　i　know　now　that　i　was　quite　right　in　what　i　fancied　about　him。　his　life　is　dreadful。　but　you；　dorian；　with　your　pure；　bright；　innocent　face；　and　your　marvellous　untroubled　youth　i　cant　believe　anything　against　you。　and　yet　i　see　you　very　seldom；　and　you　never　e　down　to　the　studio　now；　and　when　i　am　away　from　you；　and　i　hear　all　these　hideous　thing