《道林格雷的画像》第41章

very　pleasure；　cruelty　has　its　place……that　he　used　to　read　the　latter　part　of　the　book；　with　its　really　tragic；　if　somewhat　overemphasized；　account　of　the　sorrow　and　despair　of　one　who　had　himself　lost　what　in　others；　and　the　world；　he　had　most　dearly　valued。
for　the　wonderful　beauty　that　had　so　fascinated　basil　hallward；　and　many　others　besides　him；　seemed　never　to　leave　him。　even　those　who　had　heard　the　most　evil　things　against　him……　and　from　time　to　time　strange　rumours　about　his　mode　of　life　crept　through　london　and　became　the　chatter　of　the　clubs……　could　not　believe　anything　to　his　dishonour　when　they　saw　him。　he　had　always　the　look　of　one　who　had　kept　himself　unspotted　from　the　world。　men　who　talked　grossly　became　silent　when　dorian　gray　entered　the　room。　there　was　something　in　the　purity　of　his　face　that　rebuked　them。　his　mere　presence　seemed　to　recall　to　them　the　memory　of　the　innocence　that　they　had　tarnished。　they　wondered　how　one　so　charming　and　graceful　as　he　was　could　have　escaped　the　stain　of　an　age　that　was　at　once　sordid　and　sensual。
often；　on　returning　home　from　one　of　those　mysterious　and　prolonged　absences　that　gave　rise　to　such　strange　conjecture　among　those　who　were　his　friends；　or　thought　that　they　were　so；　he　himself　would　creep　upstairs　to　the　locked　room；　open　the　door　with　the　key　that　never　left　him　now；　and　stand；　with　a　mirror；　in　front　of　the　portrait　that　basil　hallward　had　painted　of　him；　looking　now　at　the　evil　and　aging　face　on　the　canvas；　and　now　at　the　fair　young　face　that　laughed　back　at　him　from　the　polished　glass。　the　very　sharpness　of　the　contrast　used　to　quicken　his　sense　of　pleasure。　he　grew　more　and　more　enamoured　of　his　own　beauty；　more　and　more　interested　in　the　corruption　of　his　own　soul。　he　would　examine　with　minute　care；　and　sometimes　with　a　monstrous　and　terrible　delight；　the　hideous　lines　that　seared　the　wrinkling　forehead　or　crawled　around　the　heavy　sensual　mouth；　wondering　sometimes　which　were　the　more　horrible；　the　signs　of　sin　or　the　signs　of　age。　he　would　place　his　white　hands　beside　the　coarse　bloated　hands　of　the　picture；　and　smile。　he　mocked　the　misshapen　body　and　the　failing　limbs。
there　were　moments；　indeed；　at　night；　when；　lying　sleepless　in　his　own　delicately　scented　chamber；　or　in　the　sordid　room　of　the　little　ill…famed　tavern　near　the　docks　which；　under　an　assumed　name　and　in　disguise；　it　was　his　habit　to　frequent；　he　would　think　of　the　ruin　he　had　brought　upon　his　soul　with　a　pity　that　was　all　the　more　poignant　because　it　was　purely　selfish。　but　moments　such　as　these　were　rare。　that　curiosity　about　life　which　lord　henry　had　first　stirred　in　him；　as　they　sat　together　in　the　garden　of　their　friend；　seemed　to　increase　with　gratification。　the　more　he　knew；　the　more　he　desired　to　know。　he　had　mad　hungers　that　grew　more　ravenous　as　he　fed　them。
yet　he　was　not　really　reckless；　at　any　rate　in　his　relations　to　society。　once　or　twice　every　month　during　the　winter；　and　on　each　wednesday　evening　while　the　season　lasted；　he　would　throw　open　to　the　world　his　beautiful　house　and　have　the　most　celebrated　musicians　of　the　day　to　charm　his　guests　with　the　wonders　of　their　art。　his　little　dinners；　in　the　settling　of　which　lord　henry　always　assisted　him；　were　noted　as　much　for　the　careful　selection　and　placing　of　those　invited；　as　for　the　exquisite　taste　shown　in　the　decoration　of　the　table；　with　its　subtle　symphonic　arrangements　of　exotic　flowers；　and　embroidered　cloths；　and　antique　plate　of　gold　and　silver。　indeed；　there　were　many；　especially　among　the　very　young　men；　who　saw；　or　fancied　that　they　saw；　in　dorian　gray　the　true　realization　of　a　type　of　which　they　had　often　dreamed　in　eton　or　oxford　days；　a　type　that　was　to　bine　something　of　the　real　culture　of　the　scholar　with　all　the　grace　and　distinction　and　perfect　manner　of　a　citizen　of　the　world。　to　them　he　seemed　to　be　of　the　pany　of　those　whom　dante　describes　as　having　sought　to　〃make　themselves　perfect　by　the　worship　of　beauty。〃　like　gautier；　he　was　one　for　whom　〃the　visible　world　existed。〃
and；　certainly；　to　him　life　itself　was　the　first；　the　greatest；　of　the　arts；　and　for　it　all　the　other　arts　seemed　to　be　but　a　preparation。　fashion；　by　which　what　is　really　fantastic　bees　for　a　moment　universal；　and　dandyism；　which；　in　its　own　way；　is　an　attempt　to　assert　the　absolute　modernity　of　beauty；　had；　of　course；　their　fascination　for　him。　his　mode　of　dressing；　and　the　particular　styles　that　from　time　to　time　he　affected；　had　their　marked　influence　on　the　young　exquisites　of　the　mayfair　balls　and　pall　mall　club　windows；　who　copied　him　in　everything　that　he　did；　and　tried　to　reproduce　the　accidental　charm　of　his　graceful；　though　to　him　only　half…serious　fopperies。
for；　while　he　was　but　too　ready　to　accept　the　position　that　was　almost　immediately　offered　to　him　on　his　ing　of　age；　and　found；　indeed；　a　subtle　pleasure　in　the　thought　that　he　might　really　bee　to　the　london　of　his　own　day　what　to　imperial　neronian　rome　the　author　of　the　satyricon　once　had　been；　yet　in　his　inmost　heart　he　desired　to　be　something　more　than　a　mere　arbiter　elegantiarum；　to　be　consulted　on　the　wearing　of　a　jewel；　or　the　knotting　of　a　necktie；　or　the　conduct　of　a　cane。　he　sought　to　elaborate　some　new　scheme　of　life　that　would　have　its　reasoned　philosophy　and　its　ordered　principles；　and　find　in　the　spiritualizing　of　the　senses　its　highest　realization。
the　worship　of　the　senses　has　often；　and　with　much　justice；　been　decried；　men　feeling　a　natural　instinct　of　terror　about　passions　and　sensations　that　seem　stronger　than　themselves；　and　that　they　are　conscious　of　sharing　with　the　less　highly　organized　forms　of　existence。　but　it　appeared　to　dorian　gray　that　the　true　nature　of　the　senses　had　never　been　understood；　and　that　they　had　remained　savage　and　animal　merely　because　the　world　had　sought　to　starve　them　into　submission　or　to　kill　them　by　pain；　instead　of　aiming　at　making　them　elements　of　a　new　spirituality；　of　which　a　fine　instinct　for　beauty　was　to　be　the　dominant　characteristic。　as　he　looked　back　upon　man　moving　through　history；　he　was　haunted　by　a　feeling　of　loss。　so　much　had　been　surrendered！　and　to　such　little　purpose！　there　had　been　mad