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- Портрет Дориана Грея
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The
lad
started
and
drew
back
.
He
was
bareheaded
,
and
the
leaves
had
tossed
his
rebellious
curls
and
tangled
all
their
gilded
threads
.
There
was
a
look
of
fear
in
his
eyes
,
such
as
people
have
when
they
are
suddenly
awakened
.
His
finely-chiselled
nostrils
quivered
,
and
some
hidden
nerve
shook
the
scarlet
of
his
lips
and
left
them
trembling
.
"
Yes
,
"
continued
Lord
Henry
,
"
that
is
one
of
the
great
secrets
of
life
--
to
cure
the
soul
by
means
of
the
senses
,
and
the
senses
by
means
of
the
soul
.
You
are
a
wonderful
creation
.
You
know
more
than
you
think
you
know
,
just
as
you
know
less
than
you
want
to
know
.
"
Dorian
Gray
frowned
and
turned
his
head
away
.
He
could
not
help
liking
the
tall
,
graceful
young
man
who
was
standing
by
him
.
His
romantic
olive-coloured
face
and
worn
expression
interested
him
.
There
was
something
in
his
low
,
languid
voice
that
was
absolutely
fascinating
.
His
cool
,
white
,
flower-like
hands
,
even
,
had
a
curious
charm
.
They
moved
,
as
he
spoke
,
like
music
,
and
seemed
to
have
a
language
of
their
own
.
But
he
felt
afraid
of
him
,
and
ashamed
of
being
afraid
.
Why
had
it
been
left
for
a
stranger
to
reveal
him
to
himself
?
He
had
known
Basil
Hallward
for
months
,
but
the
friendship
between
them
had
never
altered
him
.
Suddenly
there
had
come
someone
across
his
life
who
seemed
to
have
disclosed
to
him
life
's
mystery
.
And
,
yet
,
what
was
there
to
be
afraid
of
?
He
was
not
a
schoolboy
or
a
girl
.
It
was
absurd
to
be
frightened
.
"
Let
us
go
and
sit
in
the
shade
,
"
said
Lord
Henry
.
"
Parker
has
brought
out
the
drinks
,
and
if
you
stay
any
longer
in
this
glare
you
will
be
quite
spoiled
,
and
Basil
will
never
paint
you
again
.
You
really
must
not
allow
yourself
to
become
sunburnt
.
It
would
be
unbecoming
.
"
"
What
can
it
matter
?
"
cried
Dorian
Gray
,
laughing
,
as
he
sat
down
on
the
seat
at
the
end
of
the
garden
.
"
It
should
matter
everything
to
you
,
Mr.
Gray
.
"
"
Why
?
"
"
Because
you
have
the
most
marvellous
youth
,
and
youth
is
the
one
thing
worth
having
.
"
"
I
do
n't
feel
that
,
Lord
Henry
.
"
"
No
,
you
do
n't
feel
it
now
.
Some
day
,
when
you
are
old
and
wrinkled
and
ugly
,
when
thought
has
seared
your
forehead
with
its
lines
,
and
passion
branded
your
lips
with
its
hideous
fires
,
you
will
feel
it
,
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
.
Do
n't
frown
.
You
have
.
And
Beauty
is
a
form
of
Genius
--
is
higher
,
indeed
,
than
Genius
,
as
it
needs
no
explanation
.
It
is
of
the
great
facts
of
the
world
,
like
sunlight
,
or
spring-time
,
or
the
reflection
in
dark
waters
of
that
silver
shell
we
call
the
moon
.
It
can
not
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
wo
n't
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
.
