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The Picture of Dorian Gray | Gradually Hardening French A1-B2 Books

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Gradually Hardening French A1-B2 Books

Embrace the benefits of this cutting-edge translation method, offering a tailored learning experience by letting you select the difficulty level that fits you best. It improves your comprehension by urging you to deduce meanings from context, reducing the need for constant translation. While some translations are intentionally masked to encourage guessing, it's always acceptable to check unfamiliar words. This method strikes the perfect balance between challenge and accessibility, making language learning both effective and enjoyable. Immerse yourself in these translated classics and uncover the pleasure of learning through literary exploration.

THEPREFACE
Theartistis
le
thecreatorofbeautifulthings.
To
révéler
revealartandconcealtheartistisart’s
but
aim.
Thecriticishe
qui
whocantranslateintoanother
manière
manneroranewmaterialhis
impression
impressionofbeautifulthings.
Thehighestas
la
thelowestformofcriticismis
un
amodeofautobiography.
Those
qui
whofinduglymeaningsinbeautifulthingsarecorrupt
sans
withoutbeingcharming.
Thisis
une
afault.
Thosewhofindbeautifulmeaningsinbeautifulthingsare
les
thecultivated.
Forthesethereishope.
Theyarethe
élus
electtowhombeautifulthings
signifient
meanonlybeauty.
Thereis
pas
nosuchthingasa
moral
moraloranimmoralbook.
Booksare
bien
wellwritten,orbadlywritten.
Que
Thatisall.
Thenineteenth
siècle
centurydislikeofrealismistherageofCaliban
voyant
seeinghisownfacein
un
aglass.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofromanticismistherageofCalibannot
voir
seeinghisownfacein
un
aglass.
Themorallifeofmanforms
partie
partofthesubject-matterof
la
theartist,butthemoralityofartconsistsin
la
theperfectuseofan
imparfait
imperfectmedium.
Noartistdesiresto
prouver
proveanything.
Eventhingsthataretrue
peuvent
canbeproved.
Noartisthasethicalsympathies.
An
éthique
ethicalsympathyinanartistisanunpardonablemannerismof
style
style.
Noartistisever
morbide
morbid.
Theartistcanexpress
tout
everything.
Thoughtandlanguagearetotheartistinstrumentsofan
art
art.
Viceandvirtuearetotheartistmaterialsfor
un
anart.
Fromthepointof
vue
viewofform,thetypeof
tous
alltheartsistheartofthe
musicien
musician.
Fromthepointof
vue
viewoffeeling,theactor’scraftis
le
thetype.
Allartisat
fois
oncesurfaceandsymbol.
Those
qui
whogobeneaththesurface
font
dosoattheirperil.
Ceux
Thosewhoreadthesymbol
font
dosoattheirperil.
Itisthespectator,
et
andnotlife,thatart
vraiment
reallymirrors.
Diversityofopinion
sur
aboutaworkofart
montre
showsthattheworkisnew,
complexe
complex,andvital.
Whencriticsdisagree,
les
theartistisinaccord
avec
withhimself.
Wecanforgivea
homme
manformakingauseful
chose
thingaslongashe
faire
doesnotadmireit.
The
seule
onlyexcuseformakinga
inutile
uselessthingisthatoneadmiresit
intensément
intensely.
Allartisquite
inutile
useless.
CHAPTERI.
Thestudiowas
rempli
filledwiththerichodourofroses,
et
andwhenthelightsummer
vent
windstirredamidstthetreesofthe
jardin
garden,therecamethroughtheopen
porte
doortheheavyscentofthelilac,
ou
orthemoredelicateperfumeofthepink-floweringthorn.
FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagson
dont
whichhewaslying,smoking,aswashis
coutume
custom,innumerablecigarettes,LordHenryWotton
pouvait
couldjustcatchthegleamofthehoney-sweet
et
andhoney-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,whosetremulousbranches
semblaient
seemedhardlyabletobearthe
fardeau
burdenofabeautysoflamelikeastheirs;
et
andnowandthenthefantasticshadowsofbirdsin
vol
flightflittedacrossthelongtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedin
devant
frontofthehugewindow,
produisant
producingakindofmomentaryJapaneseeffect,
et
andmakinghimthinkof
ces
thosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,throughthe
moyen
mediumofanartthatis
nécessairement
necessarilyimmobile,seektoconveythe
sens
senseofswiftnessandmotion.
Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheir
chemin
waythroughthelongunmown
herbe
grass,orcirclingwithmonotonousinsistenceroundthedustygilthornsofthestragglingwoodbine,
semblait
seemedtomakethestillness
plus
moreoppressive.
ThedimroarofLondonwas
comme
likethebourdonnoteofa
lointain
distantorgan.
Inthecentreoftheroom,clampedtoanuprighteasel,stoodthefull-length
portrait
portraitofayoungmanof
extraordinaire
extraordinarypersonalbeauty,andin
devant
frontofit,somelittle
distance
distanceaway,wassittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,whose
soudaine
suddendisappearancesomeyearsago
provoqua
caused,atthetime,suchpublic
excitation
excitementandgaverisetosomanystrangeconjectures.
Asthe
peintre
painterlookedatthegracious
et
andcomelyformhehadsoskilfullymirroredinhis
art
art,asmileofpleasurepassedacrosshis
visage
face,andseemedaboutto
attarder
lingerthere.
Buthesuddenly
commencé
startedup,andclosinghiseyes,
placé
placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhe
cherchait
soughttoimprisonwithinhis
cerveau
brainsomecuriousdreamfrom
dont
whichhefearedhemight
réveiller
awake.
“Itisyourbest
travail
work,Basil,thebestthingyouhaveeverdone,”
dit
saidLordHenrylanguidly.
“You
devez
mustcertainlysenditnextyeartotheGrosvenor.
TheAcademyis
trop
toolargeandtoovulgar.
WheneverI
eu
havegonethere,therehavebeen
soit
eithersomanypeoplethatI
eu
havenotbeenableto
voir
seethepictures,whichwas
terrible
dreadful,orsomanypicturesthatI
eu
havenotbeenableto
voir
seethepeople,whichwas
pire
worse.
TheGrosvenorisreally
le
theonlyplace.”
“Idon’t
pense
thinkIshallsenditanywhere,”he
répondu
answered,tossinghisheadbackinthat
étrange
oddwaythatusedto
faisait
makehisfriendslaughathimatOxford.
“No,Iwon’tsenditanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrows
et
andlookedathiminamazement
travers
throughthethinbluewreathsof
fumée
smokethatcurledupinsuchfancifulwhorlsfromhisheavy,opium-tainted
cigarette
cigarette.
“Notsenditanywhere?
My
cher
dearfellow,why?
Haveyouanyreason?
Whatoddchapsyoupaintersare!
You
faites
doanythingintheworldtogain
une
areputation.
Assoonasyouhave
un
one,youseemtowantto
jeter
throwitaway.
Itissillyofyou,forthereis
seule
onlyonethinginthe
monde
worldworsethanbeingtalkedabout,
et
andthatisnotbeing
parlé
talkedabout.
Aportraitlikethiswouldsetyoufar
au-dessus
abovealltheyoungmeninEngland,
et
andmaketheoldmenquite
jaloux
jealous,ifoldmenareevercapableofanyemotion.”
“I
sais
knowyouwilllaughatme,”he
répondu
replied,“butIreallycan’texhibitit.
Ihave
mis
puttoomuchofmyselfintoit.”
LordHenrystretchedhimselfouton
le
thedivanandlaughed.
“Yes,I
savais
knewyouwould;
butitis
tout à fait
quitetrue,allthesame.”
“Toomuchofyourselfin
il
it!
Uponmyword,Basil,Ididn’t
savais
knowyouweresovain;
et
andIreallycan’tseeany
ressemblance
resemblancebetweenyou,withyour
robuste
ruggedstrongfaceandyourcoal-black
cheveux
hair,andthisyoungAdonis,
qui
wholooksasifhewas
fait
madeoutofivoryandrose-leaves.
Why,my
cher
dearBasil,heisaNarcissus,
et
andyou—well,ofcourseyouhavean
intellectuelle
intellectualexpressionandallthat.
Mais
Butbeauty,realbeauty,ends
où
whereanintellectualexpressionbegins.
Intellectisinitself
un
amodeofexaggeration,and
détruit
destroystheharmonyofany
visage
face.
Themomentonesitsdownto
penser
think,onebecomesallnose,
ou
orallforehead,orsomethinghorrid.
Regardez
Lookatthesuccessfulmeninanyof
les
thelearnedprofessions.
Howperfectly
hideux
hideoustheyare!
Except,of
sûr
course,intheChurch.
ButthenintheChurchtheydon’t
pensent
think.
Abishopkeepsonsayingatthe
ans
ageofeightywhathewastoldto
dire
saywhenhewasa
garçon
boyofeighteen,andas
un
anaturalconsequencehealwayslooks
absolument
absolutelydelightful.
Yourmysteriousyoung
ami
friend,whosenameyouhave
jamais
nevertoldme,butwhose
photo
picturereallyfascinatesme,never
pense
thinks.
Ifeelquitesureofthat.
Heissomebrainless
belle
beautifulcreaturewhoshouldbe
toujours
alwayshereinwinterwhenwe
devrait
havenoflowerstolookat,
et
andalwayshereinsummer
quand
whenwewantsomethingto
refroidir
chillourintelligence.
Don’tflatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleast
comme
likehim.”
“Youdon’tunderstand
me
me,Harry,”answeredtheartist.
“Of
sûr
courseIamnotlike
lui
him.
Iknowthatperfectly
bien
well.
Indeed,Ishouldbesorryto
ressembler
looklikehim.
Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iam
dis
tellingyouthetruth.
Thereis
une
afatalityaboutallphysical
et
andintellectualdistinction,thesortoffatality
qui
thatseemstodogthroughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings.
Itis
mieux
betternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.
Theugly
et
andthestupidhavethe
meilleur
bestofitinthis
monde
world.
Theycansitattheirease
et
andgapeattheplay.
Ifthey
savent
knownothingofvictory,theyareat
moins
leastsparedtheknowledgeof
défaite
defeat.
Theyliveaswe
tous
allshouldlive—undisturbed,indifferent,and
sans
withoutdisquiet.
Theyneitherbring
ruine
ruinuponothers,norever
reçoivent
receiveitfromalienhands.
Yourrank
et
andwealth,Harry;
mybrains,
tel
suchastheyare—myart,whateveritmaybe
valeur
worth;
DorianGray’sgoodlooks—weshall
tous
allsufferforwhatthegods
ont
havegivenus,sufferterribly.”
“DorianGray?
Isthathisname?”
demandé
askedLordHenry,walkingacross
le
thestudiotowardsBasilHallward.
“Yes,thatishis
nom
name.
Ididn’tintendto
dire
tellittoyou.”
“But
pourquoi
whynot?”
“Oh,Ican’texplain.
Quand
WhenIlikepeopleimmensely,I
jamais
nevertelltheirnamestoanyone.
Itis
comme
likesurrenderingapartofthem.
Ihavegrownto
aimer
lovesecrecy.
Itseemstobe
la
theonethingthatcan
rendre
makemodernlifemysteriousormarvellousto
nous
us.
Thecommonestthingisdelightful
si
ifoneonlyhidesit.
Quand
WhenIleavetownnowI
jamais
nevertellmypeoplewhereIam
vais
going.
IfIdid,Iwould
perdrais
loseallmypleasure.
Itis
une
asillyhabit,Idare
dire
say,butsomehowitseemsto
apporter
bringagreatdealof
romance
romanceintoone’slife.
I
suppose
supposeyouthinkmeawfully
stupide
foolishaboutit?”
“Notatall,”
répondit
answeredLordHenry,“notat
tout
all,mydearBasil.
You
semblez
seemtoforgetthatIam
marié
married,andtheonecharmof
mariage
marriageisthatitmakesa
vie
lifeofdeceptionabsolutelynecessaryfor
deux
bothparties.
Ineverknow
où
wheremywifeis,andmy
femme
wifeneverknowswhatIam
fais
doing.
Whenwemeet—wedo
rencontrons
meetoccasionally,whenwedineout
ensemble
together,orgodowntotheDuke’s—we
racontons
telleachotherthemostabsurdstories
avec
withthemostseriousfaces.
My
femme
wifeisverygoodatit—much
mieux
better,infact,thanIam.
She
jamais
nevergetsconfusedoverherdates,
et
andIalwaysdo.
But
quand
whenshedoesfindmeout,she
fait
makesnorowatall.
I
parfois
sometimeswishshewould;
butshemerelylaughsatme.”
“I
déteste
hatethewayyoutalkaboutyour
marié
marriedlife,Harry,”saidBasilHallward,strolling
vers
towardsthedoorthatledinto
la
thegarden.
“Ibelievethatyouare
vraiment
reallyaverygoodhusband,
mais
butthatyouarethoroughly
honte
ashamedofyourownvirtues.
Youare
un
anextraordinaryfellow.
Younever
dis
sayamoralthing,andyou
jamais
neverdoawrongthing.
Yourcynicismissimply
une
apose.”
“Beingnaturalissimply
une
apose,andthemostirritating
pose
poseIknow,”criedLordHenry,laughing;
et
andthetwoyoungmenwentoutintothe
jardin
gardentogetherandensconcedthemselveson
un
alongbambooseatthat
tenait
stoodintheshadeof
un
atalllaurelbush.
Thesunlight
glissait
slippedoverthepolishedleaves.
In
les
thegrass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.
Après
Afterapause,LordHenrypulledouthis
montre
watch.
“IamafraidI
doive
mustbegoing,Basil,”hemurmured,“and
avant
beforeIgo,Iinsistonyour
répondiez
answeringaquestionIputtoyousometimeago.”
“Whatisthat?”
dit
saidthepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedonthe
sol
ground.
“Youknowquitewell.”
“I
ne
donot,Harry.”
“Well,I
vais
willtellyouwhatitis.
I
veux
wantyoutoexplaintome
pourquoi
whyyouwon’texhibitDorianGray’s
tableau
picture.
Iwanttherealreason.”
“I
dit
toldyoutherealreason.”
“No,you
fait
didnot.
Yousaiditwasbecause
y
therewastoomuchofyourselfin
elle
it.
Now,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”
dit
saidBasilHallward,lookinghimstraightintheface,“everyportraitthatispainted
avec
withfeelingisaportraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.
La
Thesitterismerelytheaccident,
la
theoccasion.
Itisnothe
qui
whoisrevealedbythe
peintre
painter;
itisratherthe
peintre
painterwho,onthecoloured
toile
canvas,revealshimself.
ThereasonI
vais
willnotexhibitthispictureis
que
thatIamafraidthatI
avoir
haveshowninitthe
secret
secretofmyownsoul.”
LordHenrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
he
demandé
asked.
“Iwilltellyou,”
dit
saidHallward;
butanexpressionofperplexity
venue
cameoverhisface.
“Iam
tout
allexpectation,Basil,”continuedhis
compagnon
companion,glancingathim.
“Oh,thereis
vraiment
reallyverylittletotell,Harry,”
répondit
answeredthepainter;
“andIamafraidyouwillhardly
compreniez
understandit.
Perhapsyouwillhardly
croire
believeit.”
LordHenrysmiled,
et
andleaningdown,pluckedapink-petalleddaisyfrom
le
thegrassandexaminedit.
“Iam
tout à fait
quitesureIshallunderstandit,”he
répondit
replied,gazingintentlyatthe
petit
littlegolden,white-feathereddisk,“andasfor
croire
believingthings,Icanbelieve
tout
anything,providedthatitis
tout à fait
quiteincredible.”
Thewindshook
quelques
someblossomsfromthetrees,
et
andtheheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,
déplaçaient
movedtoandfrointhelanguidair.
Agrasshopper
commença
begantochirrupbythe
mur
wall,andlikeablue
fil
threadalongthindragon-flyfloatedpastonitsbrowngauzewings.
LordHenry
sentait
feltasifhecould
entendre
hearBasilHallward’sheartbeating,
et
andwonderedwhatwascoming.
“Thestoryissimplythis,”
dit
saidthepainteraftersome
temps
time.
“TwomonthsagoIwenttoacrushatLadyBrandon’s.
You
savez
knowwepoorartistshaveto
montrer
showourselvesinsocietyfrom
temps
timetotime,justto
rappeler
remindthepublicthatwearenotsavages.
Avec
Withaneveningcoatandawhite
cravate
tie,asyoutoldmeonce,anybody,
même
evenastock-broker,cangaina
réputation
reputationforbeingcivilized.
Well,
après
afterIhadbeenin
la
theroomabouttenminutes,
parlant
talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagers
et
andtediousacademicians,Isuddenlybecameconscious
que
thatsomeonewaslookingat
me
me.
Iturnedhalf-wayround
et
andsawDorianGrayfor
la
thefirsttime.
Whenoureyesmet,I
senti
feltthatIwasgrowing
pâle
pale.
Acurioussensationof
terreur
terrorcameoverme.
I
savais
knewthatIhadcomefacetoface
avec
withsomeonewhosemere
personnalité
personalitywassofascinatingthat,
si
ifIalloweditto
faire
doso,itwouldabsorbmy
toute
wholenature,mywholesoul,myvery
art
artitself.
Ididnot
voulais
wantanyexternalinfluenceinmy
vie
life.
Youknowyourself,Harry,how
indépendant
independentIambynature.
Ihave
toujours
alwaysbeenmyownmaster;
hadatleast
toujours
alwaysbeenso,tillI
rencontre
metDorianGray.
Then—butIdon’t
sais
knowhowtoexplainittoyou.
Quelque chose
Somethingseemedtotellme
que
thatIwasonthe
bord
vergeofaterriblecrisisinmy
vie
life.
Ihadastrangefeeling
que
thatfatehadinstoreforme
exquis
exquisitejoysandexquisitesorrows.
Igrew
peur
afraidandturnedtoquit
la
theroom.
Itwasnot
conscience
consciencethatmademedoso:
itwas
une
asortofcowardice.
Itake
pas
nocredittomyselffor
essayé
tryingtoescape.”
“Conscienceand
lâcheté
cowardicearereallythesamethings,Basil.
Conscience
Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Thatisall.”
“Idon’t
crois
believethat,Harry,andIdon’t
crois
believeyoudoeither.
However,whateverwasmymotive—andit
pouvait
mayhavebeenpride,forIusedtobe
très
veryproud—Icertainlystruggledto
la
thedoor.
There,ofcourse,IstumbledagainstLady
Brandon
Brandon.
‘Youarenotgoingtorunawayso
vite
soon,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout.
You
connaissez
knowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheis
un
apeacockineverythingbutbeauty,”
dit
saidLordHenry,pullingthedaisytobits
avec
withhislongnervousfingers.
“I
pouvais
couldnotgetridofher.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,
et
andpeoplewithstarsandgarters,
et
andelderlyladieswithgigantictiaras
et
andparrotnoses.
Shespokeofmeasherdearestfriend.
Ihadonlymether
fois
oncebefore,butshetookitintoherheadtolionize
me
me.
Ibelievesomepictureofminehadmade
un
agreatsuccessatthetime,at
moins
leasthadbeenchatteredaboutinthepennynewspapers,
qui
whichisthenineteenth-centurystandardofimmortality.
Soudain
SuddenlyIfoundmyselffacetoface
avec
withtheyoungmanwhose
personnalité
personalityhadsostrangelystirred
me
me.