# ■ 17

At home he thought about his conversation with Lord Henry．Could he really change， he wondered？ He had lived an evil life，and had destroyed other people's lives as well．Was there any hope for him？

Why had he ever made that wish about the picture？ He had kept his youth and beauty， but he had paid a terrible price for it．His beauty had destroyed his soul．He picked up a mirror and stared at his face．What was he now？ A face without a heart． Suddenly he hated his own beauty， and dropped the mirror on the floor where it broke into many small pieces．

James Vane，Basil Hallward，Sybil Vane—these deaths were not important to him now． It was better not to think of the past． Nothing could change that． He must think of himself．'Perhaps，'he thought，'if I live a better life， the picture will become less ugly．'He remembered the pretty village girl—he had not destroyed her young life．He had done one good thing． Perhaps the picture had already begun to look better．

He went quietly upstairs to the locked room． Yes， he would live a good life，and he need not be afraid any more of the evil face of his soul． But when he uncovered the picture， he gave a cry of pain． There was no change． The face in the picture was still terrible—more hateful，if possible， than before—and the red on the hand seemed brighter， like new blood．

He stared at the picture with hate and fear in his eyes．Years ago he had loved to watch it changing and growing old；now he could not sleep because of it．It had stolen every chance of peace or happiness from him．He must destroy it．

He looked round and saw the knife that had killed Basil Hallward．'Now it will kill the artist's work，'he said to himself．'It will kill the past， and when that is dead， I will be free．'He picked up the knife and dug it into the picture．

There was a terrible cry， and a loud crash．The servants woke，and two gentlemen，who were passing in the road below， stopped and looked up at the house． A policeman came by， and they asked him：

Whose house is that？'

Mr Dorian Gray's，sir，'was the answer．

The two gentlemen looked at each other， then turned away from the house and walked on．

Inside the house the servants talked in low， frightened voices． After some minutes they went up to the room． They knocked， but there was no reply． They called out． Nothing．They could not open the door， so they climbed down from the roof and got in through the window．

Against the wall they saw a fine portrait of the young Dorian Gray， in all his wonderful youth and beauty． Lying on the floor was a dead man， with a knife in his heart． His face was old and ugly and yellow with disease．

Only the rings on his fingers told them who he was．

■ 17

回到家他思考著和亨利勳爵的談話。他真的能改變嗎？他想著。他曾有過邪惡的生活，也曾毀掉過他人的生活，他還有希望嗎？

他為什麼對畫像許了那個願？他保住了青春和美貌，但卻為此付出了可怕的代價。他的美貌毀了他的靈魂。他拿起一面鏡子看著自己的臉。他現在成了什麼？一張沒有心的臉。突然他恨自己的美貌，便把鏡子扔在地上，摔成了碎片。

詹姆斯·文、巴茲爾·霍爾沃德和西比爾·文——他們的死現在對他已不重要。最好不再想起過去，那已無法改變。他必須想想自己。他想：“如果我過一種好一點的生活，畫像會變得不那麼醜陋。”他想起了那個可愛的鄉下姑娘——他沒有毀掉她的生活，他做了一件好事，可能畫像已經開始好看些。

他快步上樓奔向那間鎖著的房間。是的，他要過好人的生活，他再不必害怕他靈魂的那張邪惡的臉了。但當他掀開畫像，他痛苦地喊出了聲。沒有變化。畫像的臉依舊可怕——可能比以前更可憎——手上的紅色似乎更鮮亮，像新鮮的血。

他凝視著畫像，眼裡飽含憎恨和恐懼。數年前他還喜歡看畫像變老；現在他因為畫像簡直不能入睡。畫像偷走了他每一次平靜快樂的機會，他要毀掉畫像。

他四周張望，看見了殺死巴茲爾·霍爾沃德的那把刀。“現在這把刀要扼殺畫家的作品。”他自言自語，“這刀要殺死過去。過去死後，我將會自由。”他拿起刀刺進了畫像。

一聲可怕的喊叫和一陣猛烈的碰撞聲。僕人們醒了；兩個正路過的紳士停住向上看著房間。一個警察走過來，他們問他：

“那是誰的房子？”

他們回答：“多裡安·格雷先生的。”

兩個紳士互相看了一眼，然後轉身離開房子走了。

房子裡僕人用低沉、害怕的聲音說話。過了幾分鐘他們上樓來到那個房間。他們敲了敲門，可是沒有回答。他們用力喊，沒任何答覆。他們打不開門，就從房頂向下爬，從窗戶進了屋。

他們看見了靠牆而立的年輕的多裡安·格雷的精美畫像，青春無比，美貌動人。躺在地上的是一個死人，心臟上插著一把刀。他的臉又老又醜而且病得發黃。

只有他手上的戒指告訴了他們他是誰。