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道林·格雷的画像_Chapter 14

奥斯卡·王尔德
惊悚悬疑
总共21章(已完结

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Chapter 14

Chapter 14

At nine oclock the next morning his servant came in with a cup of chocolate on a tray and opened the shutters. Dorian was sleeping quite peacefully, lying on his right side, with one hand underneath his cheek. He looked like a boy who had been tired out with play, or study.

The man had to touch him twice on the shoulder before he woke, and as he opened his eyes a faint smile passed across his lips, as though he had been lost in some delightful dream. Yet he had not dreamed at all. His night had been untroubled by any images of pleasure or of pain. But youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.

He turned round, and leaning upon his elbow, began to sip his chocolate. The mellow November sun came streaming into the room. The sky was bright, and there was a genial warmth in the air. It was almost like a morning in May.

Gradually the events of the preceding night crept with silent, blood-stained feet into his brain and reconstructed themselves there with terrible distinctness. He winced at the memory of all that he had suffered, and for a moment the same curious feeling of loathing for Basil Hallward that had made him kill him as he sat in the chair came back to him, and he grew cold with passion. The dead man was still sitting there, too, and in the sunlight now. How horrible that was! Such hideous things were for the darkness, not for the day.

He felt that if he brooded on what he had gone through he would sicken or grow mad. There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the senses. But this was not one of them. It was a thing to be driven out of the mind, to be drugged with poppies, to be strangled lest it might strangle one itself.

When the half-hour struck, he passed his hand across his forehead, and then got up hastily and dressed himself with even more than his usual care, giving a good deal of attention to the choice of his necktie and scarf-pin and changing his rings more than once. He spent a long time also over breakfast, tasting the various dishes, talking to his valet about some new liveries that he was thinking of getting made for the servants at Selby, and going through his correspondence. At some of the letters, he smiled. Three of them bored him. One he read several times over and then tore up with a slight look of annoyance in his face. "That awful thing, a womans memory!" as Lord Henry had once said.

After he had drunk his cup of black coffee, he wiped his lips slowly with a napkin, motioned to his servant to wait, and going over to the table, sat down and wrote two letters. One he put in his pocket, the other he handed to the valet.

"Take this round to 152, Hertford Street, Francis, and if Mr. Campbell is out of town, get his address."

As soon as he was alone, he lit a cigarette and began sketching upon a piece of paper, drawing first flowers and bits of architecture, and then human faces. Suddenly he remarked that every face that he drew seemed to have a fantastic likeness to Basil Hallward. He frowned, and getting up, went over to the book-case and took out a volume at hazard. He was determined that he would not think about what had happened until it became absolutely necessary that he should do so.

When he had stretched himself on the sofa, he looked at the title-page of the book. It was Gautiers Emaux et Camees, Charpentiers Japanese-paper edition, with the Jacquemart etching. The binding was of citron-green leather, with a design of gilt trellis-work and dotted pomegranates. It had been given to him by Adrian Singleton. As he turned over the pages, his eye fell on the poem about the hand of Lacenaire, the cold yellow hand "du supplice encore mal lavé:e," with its downy red hairs and its "doigts de faune." He glanced at his own white taper fingers, shuddering slightly in spite of himself, and passed on, till he came to those lovely stanzas upon Venice:

Sur une gamme chromatique,

Le sein de peries ruisselant,

La Vénus de lAdriatique

作品简介:

The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

天生漂亮异常的道林格雷因见了画家霍华德给他画的真人一样大的肖像,发现了自己惊人的美,又听信了亨利爵士的吹嘘,开始为自己韶华易逝,美貌难久感到痛苦,表示希望那幅肖像能代替自己承担岁月和心灵的负担,而让自己永远保持青春貌美。他的这个想入非非的愿望后来却莫名其妙的实现了。他开始挥霍自己的罪恶,最后这幅肖像却成为了记录恶行的证据,他因肖像而生也因肖像而死。《道林·格雷的画像》具有很强的唯美倾向,不但文辞绚丽,意象新颖,有许多带有王尔德特色的俏皮话,幽默,似非而是之论,矛盾诡辩之辞。虽有时给人堆砌之感,内容却相当独特,值得耐心细读。

该书作者王尔德是英国19世纪末期的著名唯美主义文学的最有影响力的作家,以下是该书的序言。从中可以感受到那为艺术而艺术的强烈的唯美主义。该篇词藻华丽,是学习英语文章的典范之一。

作者:奥斯卡·王尔德

翻译:彭恩华

标签:道林·格雷的画像王尔德PictureDorianGray

道林·格雷的画像》最热门章节:
1Chapter 202Chapter 193Chapter 184Chapter 175Chapter 166Chapter 157Chapter 148Chapter 139Chapter 1210Chapter 11
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