Kitabı oku: «Портрет Дориана Грея / The Picture of Dorian Gray», sayfa 2

Chapter 3

At half-past twelve next day Lord Henry Wotton strolled from Curzon Street over to the Albany to call on his uncle, Lord Fermor. His father had been our ambassador at Madrid, but had retired from the diplomatic service.

When Lord Henry entered the room, he found his uncle sitting in a rough shooting-coat and smoking. “Well, Harry,” said the old gentleman, “what brings you out so early? I thought you dandies never got up till two, and were not visible till five.”

“Pure family affection,²⁰ I assure you, Uncle George. I want to get something out of you.²¹”

“Money, I suppose,” said Lord Fermor. “Well, sit down and tell me all about it. Young people, nowadays, imagine that money is everything.”

“Yes,” murmured Lord Henry, settling his button-hole in his coat, “and when they grow older they know it. But I don’t want money. What I want is information: not useful information, of course; useless information. Do you know Mr. Dorian Gray?”

“Mr. Dorian Gray? Who is he?” asked Lord Fermor.

“That is what I have come to learn,²² Uncle George. Or rather, I know who he is. He is the last Lord Kelso’s grandson.²³ His mother was a Devereux, Lady Margaret Devereux.²⁴ I want you to tell me about his mother. What was she like? Whom did she marry? I am very much interested in Mr. Gray at present. I have only just met him.”

“Kelso’s grandson!” echoed the old gentleman. “Kelso’s grandson! Of course, I knew his mother intimately. She was a very beautiful girl, Margaret Devereux, but she married a penniless young fellow – a mere nobody,²⁵ sir. Certainly I remember the whole thing as if it happened yesterday. Lady Margaret fell in love when she was very young. She ran away from home and married a soldier. But she did not have a happy life. The poor chap was killed in a duel, a few months after the marriage. Lord Kelso was very angry and never talked to Lady Margaret again. Dorian’s father, the soldier, was killed before Dorian was born. Lady Margaret died before Dorian was a year old. So Dorian was an orphan. So she left a son, did she? I had forgotten that. What sort of boy is he? If he is like his mother, he must be a good-looking boy.”

“He is very good-looking,” said Lord Henry.

“He should have a lot of money waiting for him. Dorian is going to be very rich. Soon Dorian would be twenty-one. Then he would have all Lord Kelso’s money,” continued the old man.

“And… his mother was very beautiful?” asked Lord Henry.

“Margaret Devereux was one of the loveliest creatures I ever saw, Harry. She could have married anybody she chose. She was romantic, though. By the way, Harry, talking about silly marriages, Dartmoor²⁶ wants to marry an American? Ain’t²⁷ English girls good enough for him?”

“It is rather fashionable to marry Americans just now, Uncle George.”

“Is she pretty?”

“She behaves as if she was beautiful. Most American women do. It is the secret of their charm.”

“Why can’t these American women stay in their own country? They are always telling us that it is the paradise for women.”

“It is. That is the reason why, like Eve,²⁸ they are so excessively anxious to get out of it,²⁹” said Lord Henry. “Good-bye, Uncle George. Thanks for giving me the information I wanted. I always like to know everything about my new friends, and nothing about my old ones.”

“Where are you lunching, Harry?”

“At Aunt Agatha’s. I have asked myself and Mr. Gray. He is her latest protege.”

“Tell your Aunt Agatha, Harry, not to bother me any more with her charity appeals.³⁰ I am sick of them. Why, the good woman thinks that I have nothing to do but to write cheques for her.”

Lord Henry went out. It was a sad and romantic story. Now Harry was even more interested in Dorian Gray. Dorian Gray… How charming he had been at dinner the night before! Talking to him was like playing upon an exquisite violin. What a pity it was that such beauty was destined to fade!³¹

Lord Henry smiled. Yes; he would try to dominate Dorian Gray – had already, indeed, half done so. There was something fascinating in this son of Love and Death.

Suddenly he stopped and glanced up at the houses. He found that he had passed his aunt’s some distance, and, smiling to himself, turned back.

“Late as usual, Harry,” cried his aunt, shaking her head at him.

His neighbour was Mrs. Vandeleur,³² one of his aunt’s oldest friends. Lord Henry began to talk. He felt that the eyes of Dorian Gray were fixed on him. He charmed his listeners, everybody listened to Harry. But Harry was not talking to everybody. He was talking to Dorian. Sometimes Dorian smiled, sometimes his eyes were wide open with surprise. Dorian listened to everything. Dorian Gray never took his gaze off him, but sat like one under a spell.³³

Dorian Gray spent every day of the next three weeks with Lord Henry. They had lunch together and went to parties. And Dorian was influenced by Lord Henry more and more. When Dorian was alone, he was always looking for pleasurable things to do.

Chapter 4

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. Good-bye.”

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.

Chapter 5

“Mother, Mother, I am so happy,” whispered Sibyl Vane. “I am so happy, and you must be happy, too!”

Mrs. Vane did not look very happy. She was a small, thin woman who always looked tired. There was a lot of make up on her face and on her dry, thin mouth.

“I am only happy, Sibyl, when I see you act. You must not think of anything but your acting. Mr. Isaacs has been very good to us, and we owe him money.”

“Money, Mother?” she cried, “what does money matter? Love is more than money.”

“Oh, Sibyl,” said Mrs. Vane, “you mustn’t think about the young man who comes to the theatre. You must think about your acting. Mr. Isaacs will be angry if you don’t act well. He has given us a lot of money and you mustn’t make a theatre manager angry. You must not forget that, Sibyl. Fifty pounds is a very large sum. Mr. Isaacs has been most considerate.”

“I don’t like Mr. Isaacs, Mother, and I don’t care about money,” replied Sibyl, “I’m in love with Prince Charming.”

“Sibyl, Mr. Isaacs gave us fifty pounds to pay our bills and buy clothes for James. You love James – you love your brother – don’t you?” said Mrs. Vane.

“Yes, of course I do,” replied Sibyl. “But we have Prince Charming now. He will help us. We don’t need Mr. Isaacs.”

Sibyl Vane lived with her mother, and brother, James. They lived in London. But they lived in a small house in the north of London, a long way from Lord Henry’s large, expensive house.

It was the day after Sibyl had become engaged to Dorian. Sibyl and her mother were talking in their small living room.

“My child,” said her mother, “you are too young to think of falling in love. Besides, what do you know of this young man? You don’t even know his name. I’m very worried about you. And you know James is going away tomorrow. I’m worried about James too, James is going away to Australia and you have fallen in love. But if he is rich…”

“Ah! Mother, Mother, let me be happy!”

At that moment the door opened and James Vane came into the room. He was sixteen years old and he did not look like his sister. Sibyl was small and beautiful, with shining brown hair. James was large, with big hands and feet. His hair was dull and dark and not well combed, and there was something rough and angry in his expression.

James Vane looked into his sister’s face with tenderness. “I want you to come out with me for a walk, Sibyl. I don’t suppose I shall ever see this horrid London again. I am sure I don’t want to.”

“My son, don’t say such dreadful things,” murmured Mrs. Vane.

Sibyl went to get her coat and James spoke to his mother. “I’m worried about Sibyl,” he said. “I hear a gentleman comes every night to the theatre and goes behind to talk to her. Is that right? What about that?”

“Don’t worry, James,” Mrs. Vane replied. “Young men often fall in love with actresses.”

“But you don’t know his name,” said James, angrily, “Mother, you must take care of Sibyl.”

Sibyl and James went for a walk in Hyde Park. The park was busy. There were lots of people. There were people walking and people sitting in carriages pulled by horses.

Sibyl was happy. “I think you will have a wonderful life in Australia, James. I think you will become rich…”

She stopped speaking because James was not listening to her.

“You are not listening to a word I am saying, Jim,” cried Sibyl, “and I am making the most delightful plans for your future. Do say something. What’s bothering you?”

“I heard that there is a man who comes to see you every night at the theatre. Why haven’t you told me about him? He can’t be any good for you.⁴³”

“Jim! Why do you say such things?”

“You don’t know his name, do you?”

“Stop, Jim!” she exclaimed. “You must not say anything against him. I love him. I call him Prince Charming. I will love him for ever.”

“You don’t know his name,” James said again, angrily. “He is a rich young man, and he will not marry you.”

“He is a prince!” she cried musically. “What more do you want?”

“He wants to enslave you. Sibyl, you are mad about him.”

She laughed and took his arm.

Just then a carriage drove by. There were two women in it and a young man with curly blond hair and laughing eyes.

“Oh, look! Look, there he is! He’s in that carriage!” Sibyl shouted.

“Who?”

“Prince Charming.”

“Where? Show him to me.”

She pointed across the park at a carriage. James looked across the park. But, at that moment, another carriage suddenly passed in front of the brother and sister. James never saw Prince Charming.

“Oh dear,” said Sibyl, “I wanted you to see him.”

“I wanted to see him too,” replied her brother, “because I will kill him if he ever hurts you. Do you hear me Sybil? I’ll kill him!”

James Vane’s eyes looked red with anger. At first Sibyl was angry with her brother. But she remembered that he was sixteen years old. He was a boy. He had never been in love.

“You won’t hurt a man I love, will you, James?” she said.

“No, I won’t,” he said at last. “I won’t hurt him if you love him.”

“I will always love Prince Charming,” said Sibyl. “And he will always love me.”

So Sibyl and James were friends again. But that evening, James spoke again to their mother.

“If this young man hurts Sibyl,” said he again. “I will find him and I will kill him. I will kill him like a dog!”

“Jim, what are you saying? Come, let us go. You will be late for your boat.”

Chapter 6

“I suppose you have heard the news, Basil?” said Lord Henry the following evening. They were in the dining-room of the Bristol Hotel.

“No, Harry,” answered the artist, giving his hat and coat to the waiter. “What is it? Nothing about politics, I hope! They don’t interest me.”

“Dorian Gray is going to be married,” said Lord Henry, watching him as he spoke.

Hallward frowned. “Impossible!” he cried.

“It is perfectly true.”

“To whom?”

“To some little actress.”

“I can’t believe it. Dorian is far too sensible.⁴⁴”

“Basil, whenever a man does a completely stupid thing, it is always for a good reason.”

“I hope this girl is good, Harry. I don’t want to see Dorian tied to some vile creature.”

“Oh, she is better than good – she is beautiful,” murmured Lord Henry. “Dorian says that she is beautiful and he is not often wrong about these things. Your portrait has helped him understand beauty in others. We are to see her tonight, if that boy doesn’t forget.”

“Are you serious?”

“Quite serious, Basil.”

“But how can Dorian marry an actress, Harry? It is absurd,” cried the painter, walking up and down the room, biting his lip. “Do you approve of it, Harry? You can’t approve of it, possibly.”

“I never approve, or disapprove, of anything now. You know I am not a champion of marriage. Dorian Gray falls in love with a beautiful actress who plays Juliet. He asks her to marry him. Why not? I hope that Dorian Gray marries this girl and worships her for six months. Then he can suddenly become fascinated by another woman.”

“You don’t mean a single word of that,⁴⁵ Harry! I know you don’t really want Dorian Gray’s life to be spoiled. You are much better than you pretend to be.”

Lord Henry laughed. “The reason we all like to think so well of others is because we are afraid for ourselves. But here is Dorian himself. He will tell you more than I can.”

“My dear Harry, my dear Basil, you must both congratulate me!” said the boy, throwing off his coat and shaking each of his friends’ hands. “I have never been so happy. Of course it is sudden – all the best things are. And yet it seems to me to be the one thing I have been looking for all my life.”

“I hope you will always be very happy, Dorian,” said Hallward, “but why did you not tell me? You let Harry know…”

“There really is not much to tell,” cried Dorian as they took their seats at the small round table. “Last night I went to see her again. After, when we were sitting together, there came into her eyes a wonderful look. It was something I had never seen there before. We kissed each other. I can’t describe to you what I felt at that moment.”

“Have you seen her today?” asked Lord Henry.

Dorian Gray shook his head. “I have left her in Shakespeare’s forest. I will find her in his garden.”

“At what exact point did you use the word marriage, Dorian? And what did she say in answer? Perhaps you forgot all about it?”

“My dear Harry, it was not a business meeting. I told her that I loved her, and she said she was not worthy to be my wife.”

“Women are wonderfully practical,” murmured Lord Henry, “much more practical than we are.”

“But my dear Dorian —”

Hallward put his hand on Lord Henry’s arm, “Don’t, Harry.⁴⁶ You have annoyed Dorian. He is not like other men. He would never harm anyone.”

Lord Henry looked across the table. “Dorian is never annoyed with me,” he answered.

Dorian Gray laughed. “When I am with Sibyl Vane I don’t believe in anything you have taught me. I forget all your fascinating, terrible ideas.”

“And those are..?” asked Lord Henry, helping himself to some salad.

“Oh, your theories about life, your theories about love, your theories about pleasure. All your theories, in fact, Harry.”

“Pleasure is the only thing worth having ideas about,⁴⁷” he answered, in his slow, melodious voice. “When we are happy we are always good, but when we are good we are not always happy.”

“I know what pleasure is,” cried Dorian Gray. “It is to worship someone.”

“That is certainly better than when someone worships you.”

“Harry, you are terrible! I don’t know why I like you so much. Let us go down to the theatre. When you see Sibyl you will change your ideas.”

They got up and put on their coats. The painter was silent and thoughtful. He felt very sad. Dorian Gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past. Life had come between them.

When he arrived at the theatre it seemed to Hallward that he had grown years older.