《道林格雷的画像》第12章

man　thinks　that　i　have　nothing　to　do　but　to　write　cheques　for　her　silly　fads。〃
〃all　right；　uncle　george；　ill　tell　her；　but　it　wont　have　any　effect。　philanthropic　people　lose　all　sense　of　humanity。　it　is　their　distinguishing　characteristic。〃
the　old　gentleman　growled　approvingly　and　rang　the　bell　for　his　servant。　lord　henry　passed　up　the　low　arcade　into　burlington　street　and　turned　his　steps　in　the　direction　of　berkeley　square。
so　that　was　the　story　of　dorian　grays　parentage。　crudely　as　it　had　been　told　to　him；　it　had　yet　stirred　him　by　its　suggestion　of　a　strange；　almost　modern　romance。　a　beautiful　woman　risking　everything　for　a　mad　passion。　a　few　wild　weeks　of　happiness　cut　short　by　a　hideous；　treacherous　crime。　months　of　voiceless　agony；　and　then　a　child　born　in　pain。　the　mother　snatched　away　by　death；　the　boy　left　to　solitude　and　the　tyranny　of　an　old　and　loveless　man。　yes；　it　was　an　interesting　background。　it　posed　the　lad；　made　him　more　perfect；　as　it　were。　behind　every　exquisite　thing　that　existed；　there　was　something　tragic。　worlds　had　to　be　in　travail；　that　the　meanest　flower　might　blow。　。　。　。　and　how　charming　he　had　been　at　dinner　the　night　before；　as　with　startled　eyes　and　lips　parted　in　frightened　pleasure　he　had　sat　opposite　to　him　at　the　club；　the　red　candleshades　staining　to　a　richer　rose　the　wakening　wonder　of　his　face。　talking　to　him　was　like　playing　upon　an　exquisite　violin。　he　answered　to　every　touch　and　thrill　of　the　bow。　。　。　。　there　was　something　terribly　enthralling　in　the　exercise　of　influence。　no　other　activity　was　like　it。　to　project　ones　soul　into　some　gracious　form；　and　let　it　tarry　there　for　a　moment；　to　hear　ones　own　intellectual　views　echoed　back　to　one　with　all　the　added　music　of　passion　and　youth；　to　convey　ones　temperament　into　another　as　though　it　were　a　subtle　fluid　or　a　strange　perfume：　there　was　a　real　joy　in　that……perhaps　the　most　satisfying　joy　left　to　us　in　an　age　so　limited　and　vulgar　as　our　own；　an　age　grossly　carnal　in　its　pleasures；　and　grossly　mon　in　its　aims。。。。　he　was　a　marvellous　type；　too；　this　lad；　whom　by　so　curious　a　chance　he　had　met　in　basils　studio；　or　could　be　fashioned　into　a　marvellous　type；　at　any　rate。　grace　was　his；　and　the　white　purity　of　boyhood；　and　beauty　such　as　old　greek　marbles　kept　for　us。　there　was　nothing　that　one　could　not　do　with　him。　he　could　be　made　a　titan　or　a　toy。　what　a　pity　it　was　that　such　beauty　was　destined　to　fade！　。　。　。　and　basil？　from　a　psychological　point　of　view；　how　interesting　he　was！　the　new　manner　in　art；　the　fresh　mode　of　looking　at　life；　suggested　so　strangely　by　the　merely　visible　presence　of　one　who　was　unconscious　of　it　all；　the　silent　spirit　that　dwelt　in　dim　woodland；　and　walked　unseen　in　open　field；　suddenly　showing　herself；　dryadlike　and　not　afraid；　because　in　his　soul　who　sought　for　her　there　had　been　wakened　that　wonderful　vision　to　which　alone　are　wonderful　things　revealed；　the　mere　shapes　and　patterns　of　things　being；　as　it　were；　refined；　and　gaining　a　kind　of　symbolical　value；　as　though　they　were　themselves　patterns　of　some　other　and　more　perfect　form　whose　shadow　they　made　real：　how　strange　it　all　was！　he　remembered　something　like　it　in　history。　was　it　not　plato；　that　artist　in　thought；　who　had　first　analyzed　it？　was　it　not　buonarotti　who　had　carved　it　in　the　coloured　marbles　of　a　sonnet…sequence？　but　in　our　own　century　it　was　strange。　。　。　。　yes；　he　would　try　to　be　to　dorian　gray　what；　without　knowing　it；　the　lad　was　to　the　painter　who　had　fashioned　the　wonderful　portrait。　he　would　seek　to　dominate　him……had　already；　indeed；　half　done　so。　he　would　make　that　wonderful　spirit　his　own。　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　aunts　some　distance；　and；　smiling　to　himself；　turned　back。　when　he　entered　the　somewhat　sombre　hall；　the　butler　told　him　that　they　had　gone　in　to　lunch。　he　gave　one　of　the　footmen　his　hat　and　stick　and　passed　into　the　dining…room。
〃late　as　usual；　harry；〃　cried　his　aunt；　shaking　her　head　at　him。
he　invented　a　facile　excuse；　and　having　taken　the　vacant　seat　next　to　her；　looked　round　to　see　who　was　there。　dorian　bowed　to　him　shyly　from　the　end　of　the　table；　a　flush　of　pleasure　stealing　into　his　cheek。　opposite　was　the　duchess　of　harley；　a　lady　of　admirable　good…nature　and　good　temper；　much　liked　by　every　one　who　knew　her；　and　of　those　ample　architectural　proportions　that　in　women　who　are　not　duchesses　are　described　by　contemporary　historians　as　stoutness。　next　to　her　sat；　on　her　right；　sir　thomas　burdon；　a　radical　member　of　parliament；　who　followed　his　leader　in　public　life　and　in　private　life　followed　the　best　cooks；　dining　with　the　tories　and　thinking　with　the　liberals；　in　accordance　with　a　wise　and　well…known　rule。　the　post　on　her　left　was　occupied　by　mr。　erskine　of　treadley；　an　old　gentleman　of　considerable　charm　and　culture；　who　had　fallen；　however；　into　bad　habits　of　silence；　having；　as　he　explained　once　to　lady　agatha；　said　everything　that　he　had　to　say　before　he　was　thirty。　his　own　neighbour　was　mrs。　vandeleur；　one　of　his　aunts　oldest　friends；　a　perfect　saint　amongst　women；　but　so　dreadfully　dowdy　that　she　reminded　one　of　a　badly　bound　hymn…book。　fortunately　for　him　she　had　on　the　other　side　lord　faudel；　a　most　intelligent　middle…aged　mediocrity；　as　bald　as　a　ministerial　statement　in　the　house　of　mons；　with　whom　she　was　conversing　in　that　intensely　earnest　manner　which　is　the　one　unpardonable　error；　as　he　remarked　once　himself；　that　all　really　good　people　fall　into；　and　from　which　none　of　them　ever　quite　escape。
〃we　are　talking　about　poor　dartmoor；　lord　henry；〃　cried　the　duchess；　nodding　pleasantly　to　him　across　the　table。　〃do　you　think　he　will　really　marry　this　fascinating　young　person？〃
〃i　believe　she　has　made　up　her　mind　to　propose　to　him；　duchess。〃
〃how　dreadful！〃　exclaimed　lady　agatha。　〃really；　some　one　should　interfere。〃
〃i　am　told；　on　excellent　authority；　that　her　father　keeps　an　american　dry…goods　store；〃　said　sir　thomas　burdon；　looking　supercilious。
〃my　uncle　has　already　suggested　pork…packing　sir　thomas。〃
〃dry…goods！　what　are　american　dry…goods？〃　asked