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Through the open windows of the room came the rich scent of summer flowers．Lord Henry Wotton lay back in his chair and smoked his cigarette．Beyond the soft sounds of the garden he could just hear the noise of London．

In the centre of the room there was a portrait of a very beautiful young man，and in front of it stood the artist himself，Basil Hallward．

It's your best work，Basil，the best portrait that you've ever painted，' said Lord Henry lazily．'You must send it to the best art gallery in London．'

No，'Basil said slowly．'No，I won't send it anywhere．'

Lord Henry was surprised．'But my dear Basil，why not？'he asked．'What strange people you artists are！You want to be famous，but then you're not happy when you are famous．It's bad when people talk about you—but it's much worse when they don't talk about you．'

I know you'll laugh at me，'replied Basil，'but I can't exhibit the picture in an art gallery．I've put too much of myself into it．'

Lord Henry laughed．'Too much of yourself into it！You don't look like him at all．He has a fair and beautiful face．And you—well，you look intelligent，of course，but with your strong face and black hair，you are not beautiful．'

You don't understand me，Harry，'replied Basil．（Lord Henry's friends always called him Harry．）'Of course I'm not like him，'Basil continued．'In fact，I prefer not to be beautiful．Dorian Gray's beautiful face will perhaps bring him danger and trouble．'

Dorian Gray？Is that his name？'asked Lord Henry．

Yes．But I didn't want to tell you．'

Why not？'

Oh，I can't explain，'said Basil．'When I like people a lot，I never tell their names to my other friends．I love secrets，that's all．'

Of course，'agreed his friend．'Life is much more exciting when you have secrets．For example，I never know where my wife is，and my wife never knows what I'm doing．When we meet—and we do meet sometimes—we tell each other crazy stories，and we pretend that they're true．'

You pretend all the time，Harry，'said Basil．'I think that you're probably a very good husband，but you like to hide your true feelings．'

Oh，don't be so serious，Basil，'smiled Lord Henry．'Let's go into the garden．'

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透過敞開的窗戶傳來夏季鮮花的濃香。亨利·沃頓勳爵靠在椅背上，吸著香菸。除了花園中各種輕柔的聲響之外，他能聽見倫敦的喧鬧聲。

房屋的中央是一個非常漂亮的年輕男人的畫像。畫像的前面站著畫家本人，名叫巴茲爾·霍爾沃德。

“巴茲爾，這是你最好的作品，你迄今為止畫得最好的畫像。”亨利勳爵懶洋洋地說道，“你得把這幅畫送到倫敦最好的畫廊。”

“不。”巴茲爾緩慢地回答，“我不會把它送到任何一個地方去。”

亨利勳爵感到吃驚。“親愛的巴茲爾，為什麼不呢？”他問道。“你們畫家是多麼奇怪的人啊！你們想成名，但成名後又不快樂。人們談論你們不好——但當人們不談論你們時情況會更糟。”

“我知道你會嘲笑我，”巴茲爾答道，“但我不能將這幅畫在畫廊展出，我在這裡畫了自己太多的東西。”

亨利勳爵笑道：“你自己太多的東西！你看起來和畫中的他根本不像。他有著白皙漂亮的面孔，可是你——唉，當然你看起來聰明，但你長著強健的面孔和黑色的頭髮，你算不上漂亮。”

“你不瞭解我，哈里。”巴茲爾答道。（亨利勳爵的朋友通常稱呼他哈里。）“當然我不像他，”巴茲爾繼續說，“實際上我寧願不漂亮。多裡安·格雷的漂亮面孔或許將給他帶來危險和麻煩。”

“多裡安·格雷？這是他的名字嗎？”亨利勳爵問道。

“是的，但我本不想告訴你。”

“為什麼不告訴我？”

“哦，我說不太清，”巴茲爾說道，“當我很喜歡某些人時，我從不把他們的名字告訴我的其他朋友。我喜歡保守祕密，僅此而已。”

“當然，”他的朋友贊同地說，“有祕密，生活才更有趣。比如，我從不知道我的妻子在哪裡，而我的妻子也從不知道我正在做什麼。我們碰面時——有時我們的確碰上——我們告訴對方一些瘋狂的故事，都裝得好像這些故事是真的。”

“你一直在做假，哈里。”巴茲爾說。“我認為你也許是個非常好的丈夫，但你喜歡掩飾你的真實感情。”

“哦，別太認真，巴茲爾。”亨利勳爵笑道。“咱們去花園吧。”