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nnot find it。 dont speak。 let me think。 or； rather； let me try not to think。〃
for nearly ten minutes he stood there； motionless； with parted lips and eyes strangely bright。 he was dimly conscious that entirely fresh influences were at work within him。 yet they seemed to him to have e really from himself。 the few words that basils friend had said to him……words spoken by chance； no doubt； and with wilful paradox in them…… had touched some secret chord that had never been touched before； but that he felt was now vibrating and throbbing to curious pulses。
music had stirred him like that。 music had troubled him many times。 but music was not articulate。 it was not a new world； but rather another chaos； that it created in us。 words！ mere words！ how terrible they were！ how clear； and vivid； and cruel！ one could not escape from them。 and yet what a subtle magic there was in them！ they seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things； and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute。 mere words！ was there anything so real as words？
yes； there had been things in his boyhood that he had not understood。 he understood them now。 life suddenly became fiery…coloured to him。 it seemed to him that he had been walking in fire。 why had he not known it？
with his subtle smile； lord henry watched him。 he knew the precise psychological moment when to say nothing。 he felt intensely interested。 he was amazed at the sudden impression that his words had produced； and； remembering a book that he had read when he was sixteen； a book which had revealed to him much that he had not known before； he wondered whether dorian gray was passing through a similar experience。 he had merely shot an arrow into the air。 had it hit the mark？ how fascinating the lad was！
hallward painted away with that marvellous bold touch of his； that had the true refinement and perfect delicacy that in art； at any rate es only from strength。 he was unconscious of the silence。
〃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 cant think of anything else。 but you never sat better。 you were perfectly still。 and i have caught the effect i wanted…… the half…parted lips and the bright look in the eyes。 i dont know what harry has been saying to you； but he has certainly made you have the most wonderful expression。 i suppose he has been paying you pliments。 you mustnt believe a word that he says。〃
〃he has certainly not been paying me pliments。 perhaps that is the reason that i dont believe anything he has told me。〃
〃you know you believe it all；〃 said lord henry； looking at him with his dreamy languorous 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。〃
〃certainly； harry。 just touch the bell； and when parker es i will tell him what you want。 i have got to work up this background； so i will join you later on。 dont keep dorian too long。 i have never been in better form for painting than i am to…day。 this is going to be my masterpiece。 it is my masterpiece as it stands。〃
lord henry went out to the garden and found dorian gray burying his face in the great cool lilac…blossoms； feverishly drinking in their perfume as if it had been wine。 he came close to him and put his hand upon his shoulder。 〃you are quite right to do that；〃 he murmured。 〃nothing can cure the soul but the senses； just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul。〃
the lad started and drew back。 he was bareheaded； and the leaves had tossed his rebellious curls and tangled all their gilded threads。 there was a look of fear in his eyes； such as people have when they are suddenly awakened。 his finely chiselled nostrils quivered； and some hidden nerve shook the scarlet of his lips and left them trembling。
〃yes；〃 continued lord henry； 〃that is one of the great secrets of life…… to cure the soul by means of the senses； and the senses by means of the soul。 you are a wonderful creation。 you know more than you think you know； just as you know less than you want to know。〃
dorian gray frowned and turned his head away。 he could not help liking the tall； graceful young man who was standing by him。 his romantic； olive…coloured face and worn expression interested him。 there was something in his low languid voice that was absolutely fascinating。 his cool； white； flowerlike hands； even； had a curious charm。 they moved； as he spoke； like music； and seemed to have a language of their own。 but he felt afraid of him； and ashamed of being afraid。 why had it been left for a stranger to reveal him to himself？ he had known basil hallward for months； but the friendship between them had never altered him。 suddenly there had e some one across his life who seemed to have disclosed to him lifes mystery。 and； yet； what was there to be afraid of？ he was not a schoolboy or a girl。 it was absurd to be frightened。
〃let us go and sit in the shade；〃 said lord henry。 〃parker has brought out the drinks； and if you stay any longer in this glare； you will be quite spoiled； and basil will never paint you again。 you really must not allow yourself to bee sunburnt。 it would be unbeing。〃
〃what can it matter？〃 cried dorian gray； laughing； as he sat down on the seat at the end of the garden。
〃it should matter everything to you； mr。 gray。〃
〃why？〃
〃because you have the most marvellous youth； and youth is the one thing worth having。〃
〃i dont feel that； lord henry。〃
〃no； you dont feel it now。 some day； when you are old and wrinkled and ugly； when thought has seared your forehead with its lines； and passion branded your lips with its hideous fires； you will feel it； 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。 dont frown。 you have。 and beauty is a form of genius…… is higher； indeed； than genius； as it needs no explanation。 it is of the great facts of the world； like sunlight； or spring…time； or the reflection in dark waters of that silver shell we call the mo