问答题 The following passage is drawn from Oscar Wilde" s The Picture of Dorian Gray, Read the excerpt, and answer the questions.(40 points) Chapter Twenty It was a lovely night, so warm that he threw his coat over his arm and did not even put his silk scarf round his throat. As he strolled home, smoking his cigarette, two young men in evening dress passed him. He heard one of them whisper to the other. "That is Dorian Gray. " He remembered how pleased he used to be when he was pointed out, or stared at, or talked about. He was tired of bearing his own name now. Half the charm of the little village where he had been so often lately was that no one knew who he was. He had often told the girl whom he had lured to love him that he was poor, and she had believed him. He had told her once that he was wicked, and she had laughed at him and answered that wicked people were always very old and very ugly. What a laugh she had! —just like a thrush singing. And how pretty she had been in her cotton dresses and her large hats! She knew nothing, but she had everything that he had lost. When he reached home, he found his servant waiting up for him. He sent him to bed, and threw himself down on the sofa in the library, and began to think over some of the things that Lord Henry had said to him. Was it really true that one could never change? He felt a wild longing for the unstained purity of his boyhood—his rose-white boyhood, as Lord Henry had once called it. He knew that he had tarnished himself, filled his mind with corruption and given horror to his fancy; that he had been an evil influence to others, and had experienced a terrible joy in being so; and that of the lives that had crossed his own, it had been the fairest and the most full of promise that he had brought to shame. But was it all irretrievable? Was there no hope for him? Ah! in what a monstrous moment of pride and passion he had prayed that the portrait should bear the burden of his days, and he keep the unsullied splendor of eternal youth! All his failure bad been due to that. Better for him that each sin of his life had brought its sure swift penalty along with it. There was purification in punishment. Not " Forgive us our sins" but " Smite us for our iniquities" should be the prayer of man to a most lust God. [A]The curiously carved mirror that Lord Henry bad given to him, so many years ago now, was standing on the table, and the white-limbed Cupids laughed round it as of old. He took it up, as he had done on that night of horror when he had first noted line change in the fatal picture, and with wild tear-dimmed eyes looked into its polished shield. Once, someone who had terribly loved him had written to him a mad letter, ending with these idolatrous words: " The world is changed be-cause you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of sour lips rewrite history . " The phrases came back to his memory, and he repeated them over and over to himself. Then he loathed his own beauty, and flinging the mirror on the floor, crushed it into sliver splinters beneath his heel. It was his beauty that had ruined him, his beauty and line youth that he had prayed for. But for those two things, his life might have been free from stain. His beauty had been to him but a mask, his youth but a mockery. What was youth at best? A green, an unripe dine, a time of shallow moods, and sickly thoughts. Why had he worn its livery? Youth had spoiled him. . . [B]He went in quietly, locking the door behind him, as was his custom, and dragged the purple hanging from the portrait. A cry of pain and indignation broke from him. He could see no change, save that in the eyes there was a look of cunning and in the mouth the curved wrinkle of the hypocrite. The thing was still loathsome—more loathsome, if possible, than before-and the scarlet dew that spotted the hand seemed brighten and more like blood newly spilled. Then he trembled. Had it been merely vanity that had made him do his one good deed? Or the desire for a new sensation, as Lord Henry had hinted, with his mocking laugh? Or that passion to act a part that sometimes makes us do things finer than we are ourselves? Or, perhaps, all these? And why was the red stain larger than it had been? It seemed to have crept like a horrible disease over the wrinked fingers. There was blood on the painted feet as though the thing had dripped-blood even on the hand that had not held the knife. Confess? Did it mean that he was to confess? To give himself up and be put to death? He laughed. He felt that fine idea was monstrous. Besides, even if he did confess, who would believe him? There was no trace of the murdered man anywhere. Everything belonging to him had been destroyed. He himself had burned what had been below-stairs. The world would simply say that he was mad. They would shut him up if be persisted in his story.. . Yet it was his duty to confess, to suffer public shame, and to make public atonement. There was a God who called upon men to tell their sins to earth as well as to heaven. Nothing that he could do would cleanse him till he had told his own sin. His sin? He shrugged his shoulders. The death of Basil Hallward seemed very little to him. He was thinking of Hetty Merton. For it was an unjust mirror, this mirror of his soul that he was looking at. Vanity? Curiosity? Hypocrisy? Had there been nothing more in his renunciation than that? There had been something more. At least he thought so. But who could tell? ... No. There bad been nothing more. Through vanity he had spared her. In hypocrisy he had worn line mask of goodness. For curiosity" s sake he had tried the denial of self. He recognized that now. But this murder—was it to dog him all his life? Was he always to be burdened by his past? Questions:

问答题 Can you figure out what he has thought of and done to remain his youth and beauty according to the author"s narration in this chapter?(10 points)

问答题 Paraphrase the underlined sentence in the Paragraph[A].(5 points)

问答题 Why does Dorian Gray now hate his own youth and beauty?(10 points)

问答题 Please re-tell the psychological nuances of Dorian Gray in the paragraph.[B](15 points)