道林格雷的画像_奥斯卡·王尔德-第24章

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　age。　i　suppose　they　dont　know　your　name　at　the　theatre？　if　they　dont；　it　is　all　right。　did　any　one　see　you　going　round　to　her　room？　that　is　an　important　point。〃

dorian　did　not　answer　for　a　few　moments。　he　was　dazed　with　horror。　finally　he　stammered；　in　a　stifled　voice；　〃harry；　did　you　say　an　inquest？　what　did　you　mean　by　that？　did　sibyl？　oh；　harry；　i　cant　bear　it！　but　be　quick。　tell　me　everything　at　once。〃

〃i　have　no　doubt　it　was　not　an　accident；　dorian；　though　it　must　be　put　in　that　way　to　the　public。　it　seems　that　as　she　was　leaving　the　theatre　with　her　mother；　about　half…past　twelve　or　so；　she　said　she　had　forgotten　something　upstairs。　they　waited　some　time　for　her；　but　she　did　not　e　down　again。　they　ultimately　found　her　lying　dead　on　the　floor　of　her　dressing…room。　she　had　swallowed　something　by　mistake；　some　dreadful　thing　they　use　at　theatres。　i　dont　know　what　it　was；　but　it　had　either　prussic　acid　or　white　lead　in　it。　i　should　fancy　it　was　prussic　acid；　as　she　seems　to　have　died　instantaneously。〃

〃harry；　harry；　it　is　terrible！〃　cried　the　lad。

〃yes；　it　is　very　tragic；　of　course；　but　you　must　not　get　yourself　mixed　up　in　it。　i　see　by　the　standard　that　she　was　seventeen。　i　should　have　thought　she　was　almost　younger　than　that。　she　looked　such　a　child；　and　seemed　to　know　so　little　about　acting。　dorian；　you　mustnt　let　this　thing　get　on　your　nerves。　you　must　e　and　dine　with　me；　and　afterwards　we　will　look　in　at　the　opera。　it　is　a　patti　night；　and　everybody　will　be　there。　you　can　e　to　my　sisters　box。　she　has　got　some　smart　women　with　her。〃

〃so　i　have　murdered　sibyl　vane；〃　said　dorian　gray；　half　to　himself；　〃murdered　her　as　surely　as　if　i　had　cut　her　little　throat　with　a　knife。　yet　the　roses　are　not　less　lovely　for　all　that。　the　birds　sing　just　as　happily　in　my　garden。　and　to…night　i　am　to　dine　with　you；　and　then　go　on　to　the　opera；　and　sup　somewhere；　i　suppose；　afterwards。　how　extraordinarily　dramatic　life　is！　if　i　had　read　all　this　in　a　book；　harry；　i　think　i　would　have　wept　over　it。　somehow；　now　that　it　has　happened　actually；　and　to　me；　it　seems　far　too　wonderful　for　tears。　here　is　the　first　passionate　love…letter　i　have　ever　written　in　my　life。　strange；　that　my　first　passionate　love…letter　should　have　been　addressed　to　a　dead　girl。　can　they　feel；　i　wonder；　those　white　silent　people　we　call　the　dead？　sibyl！　can　she　feel；　or　know；　or　listen？　oh；　harry；　how　i　loved　her　once！　it　seems　years　ago　to　me　now。　she　was　everything　to　me。　then　came　that　dreadful　nightwas　it　really　only　last　night？　when　she　played　so　badly；　and　my　heart　almost　broke。　she　explained　it　all　to　me。　it　was　terribly　pathetic。　but　i　was　not　moved　a　bit。　i　thought　her　shallow。　suddenly　something　happened　that　made　me　afraid。　i　cant　tell　you　what　it　was；　but　it　was　terrible。　i　said　i　would　go　back　to　her。　i　felt　i　had　done　wrong。　and　now　she　is　dead。　my　god！　my　god！　harry；　what　shall　i　do？　you　dont　know　the　danger　i　am　in；　and　there　is　nothing　to　keep　me　straight。　she　would　have　done　that　for　me。　she　had　no　right　to　kill　herself。　it　was　selfish　of　her。〃

〃my　dear　dorian；〃　answered　lord　henry；　taking　a　cigarette　from　his　case　and　producing　a　gold…latten　matchbox；　〃the　only　way　a　woman　can　ever　reform　a　man　is　by　boring　him　so　pletely　that　he　loses　all　possible　interest　in　life。　if　you　had　married　this　girl；　you　would　have　been　wretched。　of　course；　you　would　have　treated　her　kindly。　one　can　always　be　kind　to　people　about　whom　one　cares　nothing。　but　she　would　have　soon　found　out　that　you　were　absolutely　indifferent　to　her。　and　when　a　woman　finds　that　out　about　her　husband；　she　either　bees　dreadfully　dowdy；　or　wears　very　smart　bonnets　that　some　other　womans　husband　has　to　pay　for。　i　say　nothing　about　the　social　mistake；　which　would　have　been　abjectwhich；　of　course；　i　would　not　have　allowed　but　i　assure　you　that　in　any　case　the　whole　thing　would　have　been　an　absolute　failure。〃

〃i　suppose　it　would；〃　muttered　the　lad；　walking　up　and　down　the　room　and　looking　horribly　pale。　〃but　i　thought　it　was　my　duty。　it　is　not　my　fault　that　this　terrible　tragedy　has　prevented　my　doing　what　was　right。　i　remember　your　saying　once　that　there　is　a　fatality　about　good　resolutionsthat　they　are　always　made　too　late。　mine　certainly　were。〃　〃good　resolutions　are　useless　attempts　to　interfere　with　scientific　laws。　their　origin　is　pure　vanity。　their　result　is　absolutely　nil。　they　give　us；　now　and　then；　some　of　those　luxurious　sterile　emotions　that　have　a　certain　charm　for　the　weak。　that　is　all　that　can　be　said　for　them。　they　are　simply　cheques　that　men　draw　on　a　bank　where　they　have　no　account。〃

〃harry；〃　cried　dorian　gray；　ing　over　and　sitting　down　beside　him；　〃why　is　it　that　i　cannot　feel　this　tragedy　as　much　as　i　want　to？　i　dont　think　i　am　heartless。　do　you？〃

〃you　have　done　too　many　foolish　things　during　the　last　fortnight　to　be　entitled　to　give　yourself　that　name；　dorian；〃　answered　lord　henry　with　his　sweet　melancholy　smile。

the　lad　frowned。　〃i　dont　like　that　explanation；　harry；〃　he　rejoined；　〃but　i　am　glad　you　dont　think　i　am　heartless。　i　am　nothing　of　the　kind。　i　know　i　am　not。　and　yet　i　must　admit　that　this　thing　that　has　happened　does　not　affect　me　as　it　should。　it　seems　to　me　to　be　simply　like　a　wonderful　ending　to　a　wonderful　play。　it　has　all　the　terrible　beauty　of　a　greek　tragedy；　a　tragedy　in　which　i　took　a　great　part；　but　by　which　i　have　not　been　wounded。〃

〃it　is　an　interesting　question；〃　said　lord　henry；　who　found　an　exquisite　pleasure　in　playing　on　the　lads　unconscious　egotism；　〃an　extremely　interesting　question。　i　fancy　that　the　true　explanation　is　this：　it　often　happens　that　the　real　tragedies　of　life　occur　in　such　an　inartistic　manner　that　they　hurt　us　by　their　crude　violence；　their　absolute　incoherence；　their　absurd　want　of　meaning；　their　entire　lack　of　style。　they　affect　us　just　as　vulgarity　affects　us。　they　give　us　an　impression　of　sheer　brute　force；　and　we　revolt　against　that。　sometimes；　however；　a　tragedy　that　possesses　artistic　elements　of　beauty　crosses　our　lives。　if　these　elements　of　beauty　are　real；　the　whole　thing　simply　appeals　to　our　sense　of　dramatic　effect。　suddenly　we　find　that　we　are　no　longer　the　actors；　but　the　spectators　of　the　play。　or　rather　we　are　both。　we　watch　ourselves；　and　the　mere　wonder　of　the　spectacle　enthralls　us。　in　the　present　case；　what　is　it　that　has　really　happened？　some　one　has　killed　herself　for　love　of　you。　i　wish　that　i　had　ever　had　such　an　experience。　it　would　have　made　me　in　love　with　love　for　the　rest　of　my　life。　the　people　who　have　adored　methere　have　not　been　very　many；　but　there　have　been　somehave　always　insisted　on　living　on；　long　after　i　had　ceased　to　care　for　them；　or　they　to　care　for　me。　they　have　bee　stout　and　tedious；　and　when　i　meet　them；　they　go　in　at　once　for　reminiscences。　that　awful　memory　of　woman！　what　a　fearful　thing　it　is！　and　what　an　utter　intellectual　stagnation　it　reveals！　one　should　absorb　the　colour　of　life；　but　one　should　never　remember　its　details。　details　are　always　vulgar。〃

〃i　must　sow　poppies　in　my　garden；〃　sighed　dorian。

〃there　is　no　necessity；〃　rejoined　his　panion。　〃life　has　always　poppies　in　her　hands。　of　course；　now　and　then　things　linger。　i　once　wore　nothing　but　violets　all　through　one　season；　as　a　form　of　artistic　mourning　for　a　romance　that　would　not　die。　ultimately；　however；　it　did　die。　i　forget　what　killed　it。　i　think　it　was　her　proposing　to　sacrifice　the　whole　world　for　me。　that　is　always　a　dreadful　moment。　it　fills　one　with　the　terror　of　eternity。　wellwould　you　believe　it？a　week　ago；　at　lady　hampshires；　i　found　myself　seated　at　dinner　next　the　lady　in　question；　and　she　insisted　on　going　over　the　whole　thing　again；　and　digging　up　the　past；　and　raking　up　the　future。　i　had　buried　my　romance　in　a　bed　of　asphodel。　she　dragged　it　out　again　and　assured　me　that　i　had　spoiled　her　life。　i　am　bound　to　state　that　she　ate　an　enormous　dinner；　so　i　did　not　feel　any　anxiety。　but　what　a　lack　of　taste　she　showed！　the　one　charm　of　the　past　is　that　it　is　the　past。　but　women　never　know　when　the　curtain　has　fallen。　they　always　want　a　sixth　act；　and　as　soon　as　the　interest　of　the　play　is　entirely　over；　they　propose　to　continue　it。　if　they　were　allowed　their　own　way；　every　edy　would　have　a　t