Читать книгу Портрет Дориана Грея / The Picture of Dorian Gray - Оскар Уайльд, F. H. Cornish, Lord Alfred Douglas - Страница 5

One afternoon, a month later, Dorian Gray was sitting in a luxurious arm-chair, in the little library of Lord Henry’s house in Mayfair[34]. Lord Henry had not yet come in. He was always late, Dorian Gray was bored and once or twice he thought of going away.

At last he heard a step outside and the door opened. “How late you are, Harry!” he said. “I’m afraid it is not Harry, Mr. Gray. It is only his wife.”

He looked around quickly and got to his feet. “I am sorry, I thought —”

“I know you quite well by your photographs, I think my husband has got seventeen of them.”

“Not seventeen, Lady Henry?”

“Well, eighteen, then. And I saw you with him the other night at the theatre. But here is Harry!”

Lord Henry smiled at them both. “So sorry I am late, Dorian.”

“I am afraid I must go,” said Lady Henry. “Goodbye, Mr. Gray. Goodbye, Harry. You are eating out, I suppose? I am too. Perhaps I will see you later.”

“Perhaps, my dear,” said Lord Henry, shutting the door behind her. Then he lit a cigarette and threw himself down on the sofa.

“Never marry a woman with straw-coloured hair, Dorian,” he said.

“Why, Harry?”

“Because they are so sentimental.”

“But I like sentimental people.”

“Never marry at all, Dorian. Men marry because they are tired; women, because they are curious: both are disappointed.”

“I don’t think I will marry, Harry. I am too much in love. I’m in love with the most beautiful girl.”

“Who are you in love with?” asked Lord Henry, after a pause.

“With an actress,” said Dorian Gray. His face became red.

“How ordinary.”

“You would not say that if you saw her, Harry.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Sibyl Vane[35].”

“I’ve never heard of her.”

“No one has. People will some day, though. She is a genius.”

“My dear boy, no woman is a genius. Women never have anything to say, but they say it charmingly.

“Ah! Harry, your views terrify me.”

“Never mind that. How long have you known her?”

“About three weeks.”

“And where did you meet her?”

“I will tell you, Harry, but you must not laugh. You mustn’t laugh at me. I met her because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes. You told me to find out about life. You told me to enjoy life – the good things and the evil things. For days after I met you I searched the streets for beauty. I walked around London. There was excitement and danger everywhere. I knew that something wonderful was going to happen. I walked around the East End until I found a dirty little theatre. I see you are laughing. It is horrible of you!”

“I am not laughing, Dorian. Go on with your story.[36]”

“The play was Romeo and Juliet[37]. Romeo was a fat, ugly old actor. But Juliet was a beautiful young actress. She was about seventeen years old. Her hair was dark brown. Her face was small and pale – like a little flower. Her eyes were large and dark blue. I fell in love with her immediately, Harry; she was the loveliest thing I had ever seen in my life. Why didn’t you tell me about actresses?”

“Because everybody falls in love with actresses, Dorian,” said Lord Henry. “When did you meet her?”

“I went back the next night and the night after that. On the third evening I waited for her outside the theatre.”

“What was she like?”

“Sibyl? Oh, she was shy and gentle. There is something of a child about her. She said quite simply to me, ‘You look more like a prince. I must call you Prince Charming[38].’”

“Miss Sibyl knows how to flatter you.”

“You don’t understand her, Harry. She regarded me merely as a person in a play[39]. She knows nothing of life. She lives with her mother. Sibyl is the only thing I care about.”

“That is the reason, I suppose, that you never have dinner with me now. I thought it might be something romantic.”

“My dear Harry, we eat together every day,” said Dorian.

“You always come very late.”

“Well, I have to see Sibyl play,” he cried.

“Can you have dinner with me tonight, Dorian?”

He shook his head. “Tonight she is Imogen[40],” he answered, and tomorrow night she will be Juliet.”

“When is she Sibyl Vane?”

“Never.”

“I congratulate you.”

“How horrible you are! She is all the great heroines of the world in one[41]. I love her, and I must make her love me. You, who know all the secrets of life, tell me how to charm Sibyl Vane to love me! I want to make Romeo jealous. I want you and Basil to come and watch her tomorrow night. You are certain to recognize that she is wonderful[42].”

“All right. Tomorrow evening. Will you see Basil before then? Or shall I write to him?”

“Dear Basil! I haven’t seen him for a week. It is rather horrible of me as he sent me my portrait a few days ago. I love looking at it. Perhaps you should write to him. I don’t want to see him alone. He says things that annoy me. He gives me good advice.”

Lord Henry smiled. “People are very fond of giving away advice they need themselves.”

“Oh, Basil is a good man, but I don’t think he really understands about art and beauty. Since I have known you, Harry, I have discovered that.”

“Basil, my dear boy, puts everything that is charming in him into his work.”

“I must go now, Harry. My Juliet is waiting for me. Don’t forget about tomorrow. Goodbye.”

As Dorian left the room, Lord Henry began to think about what he had just learned. Certainly few people had ever interested him so much as Dorian Gray. Yet the mad worship of this actress did not make him annoyed or jealous. He was pleased by it. It made the boy more interesting to study. Soul and body, body and soul – how mysterious they were! There was animalism in the soul, and the body had its moments of spirituality.

When he arrived home, about half past twelve o’clock, he saw a telegram lying on the hall table. He opened it and found it was from Dorian Gray. Dorian Gray was going to marry Sibyl Vane.