Портрет Дориана Грея / The Picture of Dorian Gray (+ аудиоприложение)

“Basil, I am tired of standing,” cried Dorian Gray suddenly. “I must go out and sit in the garden. The air is stifling here.”

“My dear fellow, I am so sorry. When I am painting, I can’t think of anything else. But you never sat better. You were perfectly still. And I have caught the effect I wanted. I don’t know what Harry has been saying to you, but there is a wonderful bright look in your eyes. I suppose he has been flattering you. You mustn’t believe a word that he says.”

“He has certainly not been flattering me.

Perhaps that is the reason that I don’t believe anything he has told me.”

“You know you believe it all,” said Lord Henry, looking at him with his dreamy eyes. “I will go out to the garden with you. It is horribly hot in the studio. Basil, let us have something iced to drink, something with strawberries in it.”

“Don’t keep Dorian too long,” said the painter. “This is going to be my masterpiece.”

Lord Henry went out to the garden, and found Dorian Gray holding a flower to his face.

He came close to him, and put his hand on his shoulder.

Dorian Gray frowned and turned his head away. He liked the tall young man who was standing by him. His dark, romantic face interested him. There was something in his low, musical voice that was fascinating. But he felt a little afraid. Why was this stranger having a strong influence on him like this? He had known Basil Hallward for months, but the friendship between them had not changed him.

Suddenly someone had come into his life and turned it upside down. Someone who seemed to have the key to the mystery of life itself.

And yet, what was there to be afraid of? He was not a schoolboy or a girl. It was silly to be afraid.

“Let us go and sit out of the sun. I don’t want you to be burnt by the sun.”

“What does that matter?” cried Dorian Gray, laughing as he sat down on the seat at the end of the garden.

“It should matter very much to you, Mr.

Gray.”

“Why?”

“Because you are young, and youth is the best thing in the world.”

“I don’t feel that, Lord Henry.”

“No, you don’t feel it now. Some day when you are old and ugly you will feel it terribly. Now, wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it always be so? You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Gray.”

“I don’t think.”

“Don’t frown. It is true. The gods have been good to you.