Kitabı oku: «Портрет Дориана Грея / The Picture of Dorian Gray», sayfa 6

Lord Henry went out to the garden, and found Dorian Gray holding a flower to his face. He came close to him, and put his hand on his shoulder.

Dorian Gray frowned and turned his head away. He liked the tall young man who was standing by him. His dark, romantic face interested him. There was something in his low, musical voice that was fascinating. But he felt a little afraid. Why was this stranger having a strong influence on him like this? He had known Basil Hallward for months, but the friendship between them had not changed him. Suddenly someone had come into his life and turned it upside down¹⁷. Someone who seemed to have the key to the mystery of life itself.

And yet, what was there to be afraid of? He was not a schoolboy or a girl. It was silly to be afraid.

“Let us go and sit out of the sun. I don’t want you to be burnt by the sun.”

“What does that matter?” cried Dorian Gray, laughing as he sat down on the seat at the end of the garden.

“It should matter very much to you, Mr. Gray.”

“Why?”

“Because you are young, and youth is the best thing in the world.”

“I don’t feel that, Lord Henry.”

“No, you don’t feel it now. Some day when you are old and ugly you will feel it terribly. Now, wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it always be so? You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Gray.”

“I don’t think.”

“Don’t frown. It is true. The gods have been good to you. But what the gods give they quickly take away¹⁸. You have only a few years in which to really live, perfectly and fully. Live your life now, while you are still young!”

Suddenly the painter appeared at the door and waved at them to come in. They turned to each other and smiled.

“I am waiting,” he cried. “Do come in. The light is quite perfect, and you can bring your drinks.”

They got up and walked towards the house together.

“You are glad you have met me, Mr. Gray,” said Lord Henry, looking at him.

“Yes, I am glad now. I wonder whether I will always be glad.”

“Always! That is a terrible word. Women are so fond of using it.”

After about a quarter of an hour Hallward stopped painting. He stood back and looked at the portrait for a few moments. Then he bent down and signed his name in red paint on the bottom left-hand corner.

“It is finished,” he cried. “And you have sat splendidly to-day. I am awfully obliged to you.”

Lord Henry came over and examined the picture. It was certainly a wonderful work of art.

“My dear man,” he said. “It is the best portrait of our time. Mr. Gray, come over and look at yourself.”

Dorian walked across to look at the painting. When he saw it his cheeks went red with pleasure. He felt that he recognized his own beauty for the first time. But then he remembered what Lord Henry had said. His beauty would only be there for a few years. One day he would be old and ugly.

“Don’t you like it?” cried Hallward, not understanding why the boy was silent.

“Of course he likes it,” said Lord Henry. “Who wouldn’t like it? It is one of the greatest paintings in modern art. I will give you anything you like to ask for it. I must have it.”