Портрет Дориана Грея / The Picture of Dorian Gray

“I hope you will always be very happy, Dorian,” said Hallward, “but why did you not tell me? You let Harry know…”

“There really is not much to tell,” cried Dorian as they took their seats at the small round table. “Last night I went to see her again. After, when we were sitting together, there came into her eyes a wonderful look. It was something I had never seen there before. We kissed each other. I can’t describe to you what I felt at that moment.”

“Have you seen her today?” asked Lord Henry.

Dorian Gray shook his head. “I have left her in Shakespeare’s forest. I will find her in his garden.”

“At what exact point did you use the word marriage, Dorian? And what did she say in answer? Perhaps you forgot all about it?”

“My dear Harry, it was not a business meeting. I told her that I loved her, and she said she was not worthy to be my wife.”

“Women are wonderfully practical,” murmured Lord Henry, “much more practical than we are.”

“But my dear Dorian —”

Hallward put his hand on Lord Henry’s arm, “Don’t, Harry.[46 - Don’t, Harry. – Перестань, Гарри.] You have annoyed Dorian. He is not like other men. He would never harm anyone.”

Lord Henry looked across the table. “Dorian is never annoyed with me,” he answered.

Dorian Gray laughed. “When I am with Sibyl Vane I don’t believe in anything you have taught me. I forget all your fascinating, terrible ideas.”

“And those are..?” asked Lord Henry, helping himself to some salad.

“Oh, your theories about life, your theories about love, your theories about pleasure. All your theories, in fact, Harry.”

“Pleasure is the only thing worth having ideas about,[47 - Pleasure is the only thing worth having ideas about. – Единственное, что стоит возвести в теорию, это наслаждение.]” he answered, in his slow, melodious voice. “When we are happy we are always good, but when we are good we are not always happy.”

“I know what pleasure is,” cried Dorian Gray. “It is to worship someone.”

“That is certainly better than when someone worships you.”

“Harry, you are terrible! I don’t know why I like you so much. Let us go down to the theatre. When you see Sibyl you will change your ideas.”

They got up and put on their coats. The painter was silent and thoughtful. He felt very sad. Dorian Gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past. Life had come between them.

When he arrived at the theatre it seemed to Hallward that he had grown years older.

Chapter 7

The theatre was crowded that night. It was terribly hot and there were young people shouting to each other from across seats. Women were laughing loudly and their voices sounded horrible. People were eating oranges and drinking from bottles. Their voices were horribly shrill and discordant.

“What a place to find the perfect girl in!” said Lord Henry.

“Yes!” answered Dorian Gray. “It was here I found her. When you see her act, you will forget that you are in London. People in this theatre know nothing about acting, but even they change when she comes on stage. These ugly people become quite different when she appears. They sit silently and watch her. They weep and laugh as she wills them to do.”

“I understand what you mean, Dorian,” said the painter, “and I believe in this girl. Anyone you love must be wonderful. This marriage is quite right. I did not think so at first, but I admit it now.”

“Thanks, Basil,” answered Dorian Gray. “I knew that you would understand me. In a few minutes you will see the girl to whom I am going to give all my life, to whom I have given everything that is good in me.”

Sibyl Vane stepped on to the stage. The crowd shouted and called her name. Yes, she was certainly lovely to look at – one of the loveliest creatures, Lord Henry thought. Basil Hallward leaped to his feet and began to applaud. Dorian Gray sat staring at her like he was in a dream. Lord Henry peered through his glasses, murmuring, “Charming! charming!”

But Sibyl was acting badly. Something was wrong when she spoke, there was no emotion in her voice. Dorian Gray grew pale as he watched her. He was puzzled and anxious. Neither of his friends dared to say anything to him. She seemed to them to be absolutely incompetent. They were horribly disappointed.

A quarter of an hour later, Lord Henry whispered to Hallward, “She’s one of the loveliest girls I have ever seen. But she is a terrible actress.”

Dorian Gray’s face turned white as he watched her speak, “She was so different tonight! Now she was not Juliet but a very bad actress who did not understand Shakespeare’s words.”

Even the crowd became bored and began to talk loudly. The only person who did not seem to notice was the actress herself.

When the second act was over, Lord Henry got up from his chair and put on his coat. “She is quite beautiful, Dorian,” he said, “but she can’t act. Let us go.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t know what’s wrong. I am going to stay until the end,” answered Dorian in a cold voice. “I am awfully sorry that I have made you waste an evening, Harry. I apologize to you both.”

“My dear Dorian, perhaps Miss Vane is ill,” said Hallward. “We will come some other night.”

“She has entirely altered,” said Dorian, “Last night she was a great artist.”

“Come to the club with Basil and myself. We will smoke cigarettes and drink to the beauty of Sibyl Vane. She is beautiful. What more do you want? Who cares if your wife can’t act.[48 - Who cares if your wife can’t act. – Кого волнует, если ваша жена не умеет играть на сцене.] She’s beautiful. That’s enough. Dorian, you must not stay here any longer. It is not good for one’s morals to see bad acting.”

“Go away, Harry,” cried Dorian, “I want to be alone. Can’t you see that my heart is breaking?” Hot tears came to his eyes as Lord Henry and Hallward left the theatre.

When it was over, Dorian Gray rushed to see Sibyl Vane. The girl was standing there alone, with a look of extraordinary happiness on her face.

“How badly I acted tonight, Dorian!” she cried.

“Horribly!” he answered, staring at her. “It was dreadful. Are you ill? You have no idea what it was. You have no idea what I suffered.”

The girl smiled, “Dorian, don’t you understand?”

“Understand what?” he asked, angrily.

“Why I was so bad tonight. Why I will always be bad. Why I will never act well again.”

“You are ill, I suppose. When you are ill, you shouldn’t act. You make yourself ridiculous. My friends were bored. I was bored.”

“Dorian, Dorian,” she cried, “before I knew you, acting was the one important thing in my life. It was only in the theatre that I lived. I thought that it was all true. Tonight, for the first time, I became conscious that the Romeo was hideous, and old, and painted, that the moonlight in the orchard was false, that the scenery was vulgar, and that the words I had to speak were unreal, were not my words, were not what I wanted to say. I saw that I was playing at love. Our love for each other is the only true love. I cannot act anymore because I have found true love. How can I act like Juliet when I do not feel her love? I only feel my love for you, Dorian. Take me away with you, Dorian! I don’t want to be an actress any more.”