《道林格雷的画像》第8章

like　sunlight；　or　spring…time；　or　the　reflection　in　dark　waters　of　that　silver　shell　we　call　the　moon。　it　cannot　be　questioned。　it　has　its　divine　right　of　sovereignty。　it　makes　princes　of　those　who　have　it。　you　smile？　ah！　when　you　have　lost　it　you　wont　smile。　。　。　。　people　say　sometimes　that　beauty　is　only　superficial。　that　may　be　so；　but　at　least　it　is　not　so　superficial　as　thought　is。　to　me；　beauty　is　the　wonder　of　wonders。　it　is　only　shallow　people　who　do　not　judge　by　appearances。　the　true　mystery　of　the　world　is　the　visible；　not　the　invisible。　。　。　。　yes；　mr。　gray；　the　gods　have　been　good　to　you。　but　what　the　gods　give　they　quickly　take　away。　you　have　only　a　few　years　in　which　to　live　really；　perfectly；　and　fully。　when　your　youth　goes；　your　beauty　will　go　with　it；　and　then　you　will　suddenly　discover　that　there　are　no　triumphs　left　for　you；　or　have　to　content　yourself　with　those　mean　triumphs　that　the　memory　of　your　past　will　make　more　bitter　than　defeats。　every　month　as　it　wanes　brings　you　nearer　to　something　dreadful。　time　is　jealous　of　you；　and　wars　against　your　lilies　and　your　roses。　you　will　bee　sallow；　and　hollow…cheeked；　and　dull…eyed。　you　will　suffer　horribly。。。。　ah！　realize　your　youth　while　you　have　it。　dont　squander　the　gold　of　your　days；　listening　to　the　tedious；　trying　to　improve　the　hopeless　failure；　or　giving　away　your　life　to　the　ignorant；　the　mon；　and　the　vulgar。　these　are　the　sickly　aims；　the　false　ideals；　of　our　age。　live！　live　the　wonderful　life　that　is　in　you！　let　nothing　be　lost　upon　you。　be　always　searching　for　new　sensations。　be　afraid　of　nothing。　。　。　。　a　new　hedonism……　that　is　what　our　century　wants。　you　might　be　its　visible　symbol。　with　your　personality　there　is　nothing　you　could　not　do。　the　world　belongs　to　you　for　a　season。　。　。　。　the　moment　i　met　you　i　saw　that　you　were　quite　unconscious　of　what　you　really　are；　of　what　you　really　might　be。　there　was　so　much　in　you　that　charmed　me　that　i　felt　i　must　tell　you　something　about　yourself。　i　thought　how　tragic　it　would　be　if　you　were　wasted。　for　there　is　such　a　little　time　that　your　youth　will　last……such　a　little　time。　the　mon　hill…flowers　wither；　but　they　blossom　again。　the　laburnum　will　be　as　yellow　next　june　as　it　is　now。　in　a　month　there　will　be　purple　stars　on　the　clematis；　and　year　after　year　the　green　night　of　its　leaves　will　hold　its　purple　stars。　but　we　never　get　back　our　youth。　the　pulse　of　joy　that　beats　in　us　at　twenty　bees　sluggish。　our　limbs　fail；　our　senses　rot。　we　degenerate　into　hideous　puppets；　haunted　by　the　memory　of　the　passions　of　which　we　were　too　much　afraid；　and　the　exquisite　temptations　that　we　had　not　the　courage　to　yield　to。　youth！　youth！　there　is　absolutely　nothing　in　the　world　but　youth！〃
dorian　gray　listened；　open…eyed　and　wondering。　the　spray　of　lilac　fell　from　his　hand　upon　the　gravel。　a　furry　bee　came　and　buzzed　round　it　for　a　moment。　then　it　began　to　scramble　all　over　the　oval　stellated　globe　of　the　tiny　blossoms。　he　watched　it　with　that　strange　interest　in　trivial　things　that　we　try　to　develop　when　things　of　high　import　make　us　afraid；　or　when　we　are　stirred　by　some　new　emotion　for　which　we　cannot　find　expression；　or　when　some　thought　that　terrifies　us　lays　sudden　siege　to　the　brain　and　calls　on　us　to　yield。　after　a　time　the　bee　flew　away。　he　saw　it　creeping　into　the　stained　trumpet　of　a　tyrian　convolvulus。　the　flower　seemed　to　quiver；　and　then　swayed　gently　to　and　fro。
suddenly　the　painter　appeared　at　the　door　of　the　studio　and　made　staccato　signs　for　them　to　e　in。　they　turned　to　each　other　and　smiled。
〃i　am　waiting；〃　he　cried。　〃do　e　in。　the　light　is　quite　perfect；　and　you　can　bring　your　drinks。〃
they　rose　up　and　sauntered　down　the　walk　together。　two　green…and…white　butterflies　fluttered　past　them；　and　in　the　pear…tree　at　the　corner　of　the　garden　a　thrush　began　to　sing。
〃you　are　glad　you　have　met　me；　mr。　gray；〃　said　lord　henry；　looking　at　him。
〃yes；　i　am　glad　now。　i　wonder　shall　i　always　be　glad？〃
〃always！　that　is　a　dreadful　word。　it　makes　me　shudder　when　i　hear　it。　women　are　so　fond　of　using　it。　they　spoil　every　romance　by　trying　to　make　it　last　for　ever。　it　is　a　meaningless　word；　too。　the　only　difference　between　a　caprice　and　a　lifelong　passion　is　that　the　caprice　lasts　a　little　longer。〃
as　they　entered　the　studio；　dorian　gray　put　his　hand　upon　lord　henrys　arm。　〃in　that　case；　let　our　friendship　be　a　caprice；〃　he　murmured；　flushing　at　his　own　boldness；　then　stepped　up　on　the　platform　and　resumed　his　pose。
lord　henry　flung　himself　into　a　large　wicker　arm…chair　and　watched　him。　the　sweep　and　dash　of　the　brush　on　the　canvas　made　the　only　sound　that　broke　the　stillness；　except　when；　now　and　then；　hallward　stepped　back　to　look　at　his　work　from　a　distance。　in　the　slanting　beams　that　streamed　through　the　open　doorway　the　dust　danced　and　was　golden。　the　heavy　scent　of　the　roses　seemed　to　brood　over　everything。
after　about　a　quarter　of　an　hour　hallward　stopped　painting；　looked　for　a　long　time　at　dorian　gray；　and　then　for　a　long　time　at　the　picture；　biting　the　end　of　one　of　his　huge　brushes　and　frowning。　〃it　is　quite　finished；〃　he　cried　at　last；　and　stooping　down　he　wrote　his　name　in　long　vermilion　letters　on　the　left…hand　corner　of　the　canvas。
lord　henry　came　over　and　examined　the　picture。　it　was　certainly　a　wonderful　work　of　art；　and　a　wonderful　likeness　as　well。
〃my　dear　fellow；　i　congratulate　you　most　warmly；〃　he　said。　〃it　is　the　finest　portrait　of　modern　times。　mr。　gray；　e　over　and　look　at　yourself。〃
the　lad　started；　as　if　awakened　from　some　dream。
〃is　it　really　finished？〃　he　murmured；　stepping　down　from　the　platform。
〃quite　finished；〃　said　the　painter。　〃and　you　have　sat　splendidly　to…day。　i　am　awfully　obliged　to　you。〃
〃that　is　entirely　due　to　me；〃　broke　in　lord　henry。　〃isnt　it；　mr。　gray？〃
dorian　made　no　answer；　but　passed　listlessly　in　front　of　his　picture　and　turned　towards　it。　when　he　saw　it　he　drew　back；　and　his　cheeks　flushed　for　a　moment　with　pleasure。　a　look　of　joy　came　into　his　eyes；　as　if　he　had　recognized　himself　for　the　first　time。　he　stood　there　motionless　and　in　wonder；　dimly　conscious　that　hallward　was　speaking　to　him；　but　not　catching　the　meaning　of　his　word