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know what I mean—middle-class virtue and all that kind of
forget exactly what it was. Finally he succeeded, and noth-
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Oscar Wilde
ing could exceed his disappointment. He had absolutely
you must not like me less. I am changed, but you must al-
nothing to do, almost died of ennui, and became a confirmed
ways be my friend. Of course, I am very fond of Harry. But
misanthrope. And besides, my dear old Basil, if you really
I know that you are better than he is. You are not stronger—
want to console me, teach me rather to forget what has hap-
you are too much afraid of life—but you are better. And
pened, or to see it from a proper artistic point of view. Was it
how happy we used to be together! Don’t leave me, Basil,
not Gautier who used to write about la consolation des arts?
and don’t quarrel with me. I am what I am. There is nothing
I remember picking up a little vellum-covered book in your
more to be said.”
studio one day and chancing on that delightful phrase. Well,
The painter felt strangely moved. The lad was infinitely
I am not like that young man you told me of when we were
dear to him, and his personality had been the great turning
down at Marlow together, the young man who used to say
point in his art. He could not bear the idea of reproaching
that yellow satin could console one for all the miseries of
him any more. After all, his indifference was probably merely
life. I love beautiful things that one can touch and handle.
a mood that would pass away. There was so much in him
Old brocades, green bronzes, lacquer-work, carved ivories,
that was good, so much in him that was noble.
exquisite surroundings, luxury, pomp—there is much to be
“Well, Dorian,” he said at length, with a sad smile, “I won’t
got from all these. But the artistic temperament that they
speak to you again about this horrible thing, after to-day. I
create, or at any rate reveal, is still more to me. To become
only trust your name won’t be mentioned in connection with
the spectator of one’s own life, as Harry says, is to escape the
it. The inquest is to take place this afternoon. Have they
suffering of life. I know you are surprised at my talking to
summoned you?”
you like this. You have not realized how I have developed. I
Dorian shook his head, and a look of annoyance passed
was a schoolboy when you knew me. I am a man now. I have
over his face at the mention of the word “inquest.” There
new passions, new thoughts, new ideas. I am different, but
was something so crude and vulgar about everything of the
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The Picture of Dorian Gray
kind. “They don’t know my name,” he answered.
“My servant has nothing to do with it, Basil. You don’t
“But surely she did?”
imagine I let him arrange my room for me? He settles my
“Only my Christian name, and that I am quite sure she
flowers for me sometimes—that is all. No; I did it myself.
never mentioned to any one. She told me once that they
The light was too strong on the portrait.”
were all rather curious to learn who I was, and that she in-
“Too strong! Surely not, my dear fellow? It is an admirable
variably told them my name was Prince Charming. It was
place for it. Let me see it.” And Hallward walked towards
pretty of her. You must do me a drawing of Sibyl, Basil. I
the corner of the room.
should like to have something more of her than the memory
A cry of terror broke from Dorian Gray’s lips, and he rushed
of a few kisses and some broken pathetic words.”
between the painter and the screen. “Basil,” he said, looking
“I will try and do something, Dorian, if it would please
very pale, “you must not look at it. I don’t wish you to.”
you. But you must come and sit to me yourself again. I can’t
“Not look at my own work! You are not serious. Why
get on without you.”
shouldn’t I look at it?” exclaimed Hallward, laughing.
“I can never sit to you again, Basil. It is impossible!” he
“If you try to look at it, Basil, on my word of honour I will
exclaimed, starting back.
never speak to you again as long as I live. I am quite serious.
The painter stared at him. “My dear boy, what nonsense!”
I don’t offer any explanation, and you are not to ask for any.
he cried. “Do you mean to say you don’t like what I did of
But, remember, if you touch this screen, everything is over
you? Where is it? Why have you pulled the screen in front of
between us.”
it? Let me look at it. It is the best thing I have ever done. Do
Hallward was thunderstruck. He looked at Dorian Gray
take the screen away, Dorian. It is simply disgraceful of your
in absolute amazement. He had never seen him like this be-
servant hiding my work like that. I felt the room looked
fore. The lad was actually pallid with rage. His hands were
different as I came in.”
clenched, and the pupils of his eyes were like disks of blue
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Oscar Wilde
fire. He was trembling all over.
you can’t care much about it.”
“Dorian!”
Dorian Gray passed his hand over his forehead. There were
“Don’t speak!”
beads of perspiration there. He felt that he was on the brink
“But what is the matter? Of course I won’t look at it if you
of a horrible danger. “You told me a month ago that you
don’t want me to,” he said, rather coldly, turning on his heel
would never exhibit it,” he cried. “Why have you changed
and going over towards the window. “But, really, it seems
your mind? You people who go in for being consistent have [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]