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- Оскар Уайльд
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- Портрет Дориана Грея
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- Стр. 160/164
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The
music
jarred
and
Dorian
Gray
started
,
and
stared
at
his
friend
.
"
Why
do
you
ask
me
that
,
Harry
?
"
"
My
dear
fellow
,
"
said
Lord
Henry
,
elevating
his
eyebrows
in
surprise
,
"
I
asked
you
because
I
thought
you
might
be
able
to
give
me
an
answer
.
That
is
all
.
I
was
going
through
the
Park
last
Sunday
,
and
close
by
the
Marble
Arch
there
stood
a
little
crowd
of
shabby-looking
people
listening
to
some
vulgar
street-preacher
.
As
I
passed
by
,
I
heard
the
man
yelling
out
that
question
to
his
audience
.
It
struck
me
as
being
rather
dramatic
.
London
is
very
rich
in
curious
effects
of
that
kind
.
A
wet
Sunday
,
an
uncouth
Christian
in
a
mackintosh
,
a
ring
of
sickly
white
faces
under
a
broken
roof
of
dripping
umbrellas
,
and
a
wonderful
phrase
flung
into
the
air
by
shrill
,
hysterical
lips
--
it
was
really
very
good
in
its
way
,
quite
a
suggestion
.
I
thought
of
telling
the
prophet
that
Art
had
a
soul
,
but
that
man
had
not
.
I
am
afraid
,
however
,
he
would
not
have
understood
me
.
"
"
Do
n't
,
Harry
.
The
soul
is
a
terrible
reality
.
It
can
be
bought
,
and
sold
,
and
bartered
away
.
It
can
be
poisoned
,
or
made
perfect
.
There
is
a
soul
in
each
one
of
us
.
I
know
it
.
"
"
Do
you
feel
quite
sure
of
that
,
Dorian
?
"
"
Quite
sure
.
"
"
Ah
!
then
it
must
be
an
illusion
.
The
things
one
feels
absolutely
certain
about
are
never
true
.
That
is
the
fatality
of
Faith
,
and
the
lesson
of
Romance
.
How
grave
you
are
!
Do
n't
be
so
serious
.
What
have
you
or
I
to
do
with
the
superstitions
of
our
age
?
No
:
we
have
given
up
our
belief
in
the
soul
.
Play
me
something
.
Play
me
a
nocturne
,
Dorian
,
and
,
as
you
play
,
tell
me
,
in
a
low
voice
,
how
you
have
kept
your
youth
.
You
must
have
some
secret
.
I
am
only
ten
years
older
than
you
are
,
and
I
am
wrinkled
,
and
worn
,
and
yellow
.
You
are
really
wonderful
,
Dorian
.
You
have
never
looked
more
charming
than
you
do
to-night
.
You
remind
me
of
the
day
I
saw
you
first
.
You
were
rather
cheeky
,
very
shy
,
and
absolutely
extraordinary
.
You
have
changed
,
of
course
,
but
not
in
appearance
.
I
wish
you
would
tell
me
your
secret
.
To
get
back
my
youth
I
would
do
anything
in
the
world
,
except
take
exercise
,
get
up
early
,
or
be
respectable
.
Youth
!
There
is
nothing
like
it
.
It
's
absurd
to
talk
of
the
ignorance
of
youth
.
The
only
people
to
whose
opinions
I
listen
now
with
any
respect
are
people
much
younger
than
myself
.
They
seem
in
front
of
me
.
Life
has
revealed
to
them
her
latest
wonder
.
As
for
the
aged
,
I
always
contradict
the
aged
.
I
do
it
on
principle
.
If
you
ask
them
their
opinion
on
something
that
happened
yesterday
,
they
solemnly
give
you
the
opinions
current
in
1820
,
when
people
wore
high
stocks
,
believed
in
everything
,
and
knew
absolutely
nothing
.
How
lovely
that
thing
you
are
playing
is
!
I
wonder
did
Chopin
write
it
at
Majorca
,
with
the
sea
weeping
round
the
villa
,
and
the
salt
spray
dashing
against
the
panes
?
It
is
marvellously
romantic
.
What
a
blessing
it
is
that
there
is
one
art
left
to
us
that
is
not
imitative
!
Do
n't
stop
.
I
want
music
to-night
.
It
seems
to
me
that
you
are
the
young
Apollo
,
and
that
I
am
Marsyas
listening
to
you
.
I
have
sorrows
,
Dorian
,
of
my
own
,
that
even
you
know
nothing
of
.
The
tragedy
of
old
age
is
not
that
one
is
old
,
but
that
one
is
young
.
I
am
amazed
sometimes
at
my
own
sincerity
.
Ah
,
Dorian
,
how
happy
you
are
!
What
an
exquisite
life
you
have
had
!
You
have
drunk
deeply
of
everything
.
You
have
crushed
the
grapes
against
your
palate
.
Nothing
has
been
hidden
from
you
.
And
it
has
all
been
to
you
no
more
than
the
sound
of
music
.
It
has
not
marred
you
.
You
are
still
the
same
.
"
"
I
am
not
the
same
,
Harry
.
"
"
Yes
:
you
are
the
same
.
I
wonder
what
the
rest
of
your
life
will
be
.
Do
n't
spoil
it
by
renunciations
.
At
present
you
are
a
perfect
type
.
Do
n't
make
yourself
incomplete
.
You
are
quite
flawless
now
.
You
need
not
shake
your
head
:
you
know
you
are
.
Besides
,
Dorian
,
do
n't
deceive
yourself
.
