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at last he heard a step outside； and the door opened。 〃how late you are； harry！〃 he murmured。
〃i am afraid it is not harry； mr。 gray；〃 answered a shrill voice。
he glanced quickly round and rose to his feet。 〃i beg your pardon。 i thought〃
〃you thought it was my husband。 it is only his wife。 you must let me introduce myself。 i know you quite well by your photographs。 i think my husband has got seventeen of them。〃
〃not seventeen； lady henry？〃
〃well； eighteen； then。 and i saw you with him the other night at the opera。〃 she laughed nervously as she spoke； and watched him with her vague forget…me…not eyes。 she was a curious woman； whose dresses always looked as if they had been designed in a rage and put on in a tempest。 she was usually in love with somebody； and； as her passion was never returned； she had kept all her illusions。 she tried to look picturesque； but only succeeded in being untidy。 her name was victoria； and she had a perfect mania for going to church。
〃that was at lohengrin； lady henry； i think？〃
〃yes； it was at dear lohengrin。 i like wagners music better than anybodys。 it is so loud that one can talk the whole time without other people hearing what one says。 that is a great advantage； dont you think so； mr。 gray？〃
the same nervous staccato laugh broke from her thin lips； and her fingers began to play with a long tortoise…shell paper…knife。
dorian smiled and shook his head： 〃i am afraid i dont think so； lady henry。 i never talk during musicat least； during good music。 if one hears bad music； it is ones duty to drown it in conversation。〃
〃ah！ that is one of harrys views； isnt it； mr。 gray？ i always hear harrys views from his friends。 it is the only way i get to know of them。 but you must not think i dont like good music。 i adore it； but i am afraid of it。 it makes me too romantic。 i have simply worshipped pianists two at a time； sometimes； harry tells me。 i dont know what it is about them。 perhaps it is that they are foreigners。 they all are； aint they？ even those that are born in england bee foreigners after a time； dont they？ it is so clever of them； and such a pliment to art。 makes it quite cosmopolitan； doesnt it？ you have never been to any of my parties； have you； mr。 gray？ you must e。 i cant afford orchids； but i share no expense in foreigners。 they make ones rooms look so picturesque。 but here is harry！ harry； i came in to look for you； to ask you something i forget what it wasand i found mr。 gray here。 we have had such a pleasant chat about music。 we have quite the same ideas。 no； i think our ideas are quite different。 but he has been most pleasant。 i am so glad ive seen him。〃
〃i am charmed； my love； quite charmed；〃 said lord henry； elevating his dark； crescent…shaped eyebrows and looking at them both with an amused smile。 〃so sorry i am late； dorian。 i went to look after a piece of old brocade in wardour street and had to bargain for hours for it。 nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing。〃
〃i am afraid i must be going；〃 exclaimed lady henry； breaking an awkward silence with her silly sudden laugh。 〃i have promised to drive with the duchess。 good…bye； mr。 gray。 good…bye； harry。 you are dining out； i suppose？ so am i。 perhaps i shall see you at lady thornburys。〃
〃i dare say； my dear；〃 said lord henry； shutting the door behind her as； looking like a bird of paradise that had been out all night in the rain； she flitted out of the room； leaving a faint odour of frangipanni。 then he lit a cigarette and flung himself down on the sofa。
〃never marry a woman with straw…coloured hair； dorian；〃 he said after a few puffs。
〃why； harry？〃
〃because they are so sentimental。〃
〃but i like sentimental people。〃
〃never marry at all； dorian。 men marry because they are tired； women； because they are curious： both are disappointed。〃
〃i dont think i am likely to marry； harry。 i am too much in love。 that is one of your aphorisms。 i am putting it into practice； as i do everything that you say。〃
〃who are you in love with？〃 asked lord henry after a pause。
〃with an actress；〃 said dorian gray； blushing。
lord henry shrugged his shoulders。 〃that is a rather monplace d茅but。〃
〃you would not say so if you saw her； harry。〃
〃who is she？〃
〃her name is sibyl vane。〃
〃never heard of her。〃
〃no one has。 people will some day； however。 she is a genius。〃
〃my dear boy； no woman is a genius。 women are a decorative sex。 they never have anything to say； but they say it charmingly。 women represent the triumph of matter over mind； just as men represent the triumph of mind over morals。〃
〃harry； how can you？〃
〃my dear dorian； it is quite true。 i am analysing women at present； so i ought to know。 the subject is not so abstruse as i thought it was。 i find that； ultimately； there are only two kinds of women； the plain and the coloured。 the plain women are very useful。 if you want to gain a reputation for respectability； you have merely to take them down to supper。 the other women are very charming。 they mit one mistake； however。 they paint in order to try and look young。 our grandmothers painted in order to try and talk brilliantly。 rouge and esprit used to go together。 that is all over now。 as long as a woman can look ten years younger than her own daughter； she is perfectly satisfied。 as for conversation； there are only five women in london worth talking to； and two of these cant be admitted into decent society。 however； tell me about your genius。 how long have you known her？〃
〃ah！ harry； your views terrify me。
〃never mind that。 how long have you known her？〃
〃about three weeks。〃
〃and where did you e across her？〃
〃i will tell you； harry； but you mustnt be unsympathetic about it。 after all； it never would have happened if i had not met you。 you filled me with a wild desire to know everything about life。 for days after i met you； something seemed to throb in my veins。 as i lounged in the park； or strolled down piccadilly； i used to look at every one who passed me and wonder； with a mad curiosity； what sort of lives they led。 some of them fascinated me。 others filled me with terror。 there was an exquisite poison in the air。 i had a passion for sensations。 。 。 。 well； one evening about seven oclock； i determined to go out in search of some adventure。 i felt that this grey monstrous london of ours； with its myriads of people； its sordid sinners； and its splendid sins； as you once phrased it； must have something in store for me。 i fancied a thousand things。 the mere danger gave me a sense of delight。 i remembered what you had said to me on that wonderful evening when we first dined together； about the search for beauty being the real secret of life。 i dont know what i expected； but i went out and wandered eastward； soon losing my way in a labyrinth of grimy streets and black grassless squares。 about half…past eight i passed by an absurd little theatre； with great flaring gas…jets and gaudy play…bills。 a hideous jew； in the most amazing waistcoat i ever beheld in my life； was standing at the entrance； smoking a vile cigar。 he had greasy ringlets； and an enormous diamond blazed in the centre of a soiled shirt。have a box； my lord？ he said； when he saw me； and he took off his hat with an air of gorgeous servility。 there was something about him； harry； that amused me。 he was such a monster。 you will laugh at me； i know； but i really went in and paid a whole guinea for the stage…box。 to the present day i cant make out why i did so； and yet if i hadnt my dear harry； if i hadnti should have missed the greatest romance of my life。 i see you are laughing。 it is horrid of you！〃
〃i am not laughing； dorian； at least i am not laughing at you。 but you should not say the greatest romance of your life。 you should say the first romance of your life。 you will always be loved； and you will always be in love with love。 a grande passion is the privilege of people who have nothing to do。 that is the one use of the idle classes of a country。 dont be afraid。 there are exquisite things in store for you。 this is merely the beginning。〃
〃do you think my nature so shallow？〃 cried dorian gray angrily。
〃no； i think your nature so deep。〃
〃how do you mean？〃
〃my dear boy； the people who love only once in their lives are really the shallow people。 what they call their loyalty； and their fidelity； i call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination。 faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellectsimply a confession of failure。 faithfulness！ i must analyse it some day。 the passion for property is in it。 there are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up。 but i dont want to interrupt you。 go on with your story。〃
〃well； i found myself seated in a horrid little private box； with a vulgar drop…scene staring me in the face。 i looked out from behind the curtain and surveyed the house。 it was a tawdry affair； all cupids and cornucopias； like a third…rate wedding…cake。 the gallery and pit were fairly full； but the two rows of dingy stalls were quite empty； and there was hardly a person in what i suppose they called the dress…circle。 women went about with oranges and ginger…beer； and there was a terrible consumption of nuts going on。〃
〃it must have been just like the palmy days of the british drama。〃
〃just like； i should fancy； and very depressing。 i began to wonder what on earth i should do when i caught sight of the play…bill。 what do you think the play was； harry？〃
〃i should think the idiot boy； or dumb but innocent。 our fathers used to like that sort of piece； i believe。 the longer i live； dorian； the more keenly i feel that whatever was good enough for our fathers is not good enough for us。 in art； as in politics； les grandp猫res ont toujours tort。〃
〃this play was good enough for us； harry。 it was romeo and juliet。 i must admit that i was rather annoyed at the idea of seeing shakespeare done in such a wretched hole of a place。 still； i felt interested； in a sort of way。 at any rate； i determined to wait for the first act。 there was a dreadful orchestra； presided over by a young hebrew who sat at a cracked piano； that nearly drove me away； but at last the drop…scene was drawn up and the play began。 romeo was a stout elderly gentleman； with corked eyebrows； a husky tragedy voice； and a figure like a beer…barrel。 mercutio was almost as bad。 he was played by the low…edian； who had introduced gags of his own and was on most friendly terms with the pit。 they were both as grotesque as the scenery； and that looked as if it had e out of a country…booth。 but juliet！ harry； imagine a girl； hardly seventeen years of age； with a little； flowerlike face； a small greek head with plaited coils of dark…brown hair； eyes that were violet wells of passion； lips that were like the petals of a rose。 she was the loveliest thing i had ever seen in my life。 you said to me once that pathos left you unmoved； but that beauty； mere beauty； could fill your eyes with tears。 i tell you； harry； i could hardly see this girl for the mist of tears that came across me。 and her voicei never heard such a voice。 it was very low at first； with deep mellow notes that seemed to fall singly upon ones ear。 then it became a little louder； and sounded like a flute or a distant hautboy。 in the garden…scene it had all the tremulous ecstasy that one hears just before dawn when nightingales are singing。 there were moments； later on； when it had the wild passion of violins。 you know how a voice can stir one。 your voice and the voice of sibyl vane are two things that i shall never forget。 when i close my eyes； i hear them； and each of them says something different。 i dont know which to follow。 why should i not love her？ harry； i do love her。 she is everything to me in life。 night after night i go to see her play。 one evening she is rosalind； and the next evening she is imogen。 i have seen her die in the gloom of an italian tomb； sucking the poison from her lovers lips。 i have watched her wandering through the forest of arden； disguised as a pretty boy in hose and doublet and dainty cap。 she has been mad； and has e into the presence of a guilty king； and given him rue to wear and bitter herbs to taste of。 she has been innocent；