Портрет Доріана Грея
Chapter 3
NightafternightIgotoseeherplay. OneeveningsheisRosalind,andthenexteveningsheisImogen. IhaveseenherdieinthegloomofanItaliantomb,suckingthepoisonfromherlover’slips. IhavewatchedherwanderingthroughtheforestofArden,disguisedasaprettyboyinhoseanddoubletanddaintycap. Shehasbeenmad,andhascomeintothepresenceofaguiltyking,andgivenhimruetowear,andbitterherbstotasteof. Shehasbeeninnocent,andtheblackhandsofjealousyhavecrushedherreed-likethroat. Ihaveseenherineveryageandineverycostume.Ordinarywomenneverappealtoone’simagination. Theyarelimitedtotheircentury.Noglamourevertransfiguresthem. Oneknowstheirmindsaseasilyasoneknowstheirbonnets.Onecanalwaysfindthem.Thereisnomysteryinanyofthem. TheyrideintheParkinthemorning,andchatterattea-partiesintheafternoon. Theyhavetheirstereotypedsmile,andtheirfashionablemanner.Theyarequiteobvious.Butanactress! Howdifferentanactressis!Harry!whydidn’tyoutellmethattheonlythingworthlovingisanactress?"
"BecauseIhavelovedsomanyofthem,Dorian."
"Oh,yes,horridpeoplewithdyedhairandpaintedfaces."
"Don’trundowndyedhairandpaintedfaces. Thereisanextraordinarycharminthem,sometimes,"saidLordHenry.
"IwishnowIhadnottoldyouaboutSibylVane."
"Youcouldnothavehelpedtellingme,Dorian. Allthroughyourlifeyouwilltellmeeverythingyoudo."
"Yes,Harry,Ibelievethatistrue.Icannothelptellingyouthings. Youhaveacuriousinfluenceoverme. IfIeverdidacrime,Iwouldcomeandconfessittoyou. Youwouldunderstandme."