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"
Basil
!
"
cried
the
lad
,
clutching
the
arms
of
his
chair
with
trembling
hands
,
and
gazing
at
him
with
wild
,
startled
eyes
.
"
I
see
you
did
.
Do
n't
speak
.
Wait
till
you
hear
what
I
have
to
say
.
Dorian
,
from
the
moment
I
met
you
,
your
personality
had
the
most
extraordinary
influence
over
me
.
I
was
dominated
,
soul
,
brain
,
and
power
by
you
.
You
became
to
me
the
visible
incarnation
of
that
unseen
ideal
whose
memory
haunts
us
artists
like
an
exquisite
dream
.
I
worshipped
you
.
I
grew
jealous
of
everyone
to
whom
you
spoke
.
I
wanted
to
have
you
all
to
myself
.
I
was
only
happy
when
I
was
with
you
.
When
you
were
away
from
me
you
were
still
present
in
my
art
...
.
Of
course
I
never
let
you
know
anything
about
this
.
It
would
have
been
impossible
.
You
would
not
have
understood
it
.
I
hardly
understood
it
myself
.
I
only
knew
that
I
had
seen
perfection
face
to
face
,
and
that
the
world
had
become
wonderful
to
my
eyes
--
too
wonderful
,
perhaps
,
for
in
such
mad
worships
there
is
peril
,
the
peril
of
losing
them
,
no
less
than
the
peril
of
keeping
them
...
.
Weeks
and
weeks
went
on
,
and
I
grew
more
and
more
absorbed
in
you
.
Then
came
a
new
development
.
I
had
drawn
you
as
Paris
in
dainty
armour
,
and
as
Adonis
with
huntsman
's
cloak
and
polished
boar-spear
.
Crowned
with
heavy
lotus-blossoms
you
had
sat
on
the
prow
of
Adrian
's
barge
,
gazing
across
the
green
turbid
Nile
.
You
had
leant
over
the
still
pool
of
some
Greek
woodland
,
and
seen
in
the
water
's
silent
silver
the
marvel
of
your
own
face
.
And
it
had
all
been
what
art
should
be
,
unconscious
,
ideal
,
and
remote
.
One
day
,
a
fatal
day
I
sometimes
think
,
I
determined
to
paint
a
wonderful
portrait
of
you
as
you
actually
are
,
not
in
the
costume
of
dead
ages
,
but
in
your
own
dress
and
in
your
own
time
.
Whether
it
was
the
Realism
of
the
method
,
or
the
mere
wonder
of
your
own
personality
,
thus
directly
presented
to
me
without
mist
or
veil
,
I
can
not
tell
.
But
I
know
that
as
I
worked
at
it
,
every
flake
and
film
of
colour
seemed
to
me
to
reveal
my
secret
.
I
grew
afraid
that
others
would
know
of
my
idolatry
.
I
felt
,
Dorian
,
that
I
had
told
too
much
,
that
I
had
put
too
much
of
myself
into
it
.
Then
it
was
that
I
resolved
never
to
allow
the
picture
to
be
exhibited
.
You
were
a
little
annoyed
;
but
then
you
did
not
realise
all
that
it
meant
to
me
.
Harry
,
to
whom
I
talked
about
it
,
laughed
at
me
.
But
I
did
not
mind
that
.
When
the
picture
was
finished
,
and
I
sat
alone
with
it
,
I
felt
that
I
was
right
...
.
Well
,
after
a
few
days
the
thing
left
my
studio
,
and
as
soon
as
I
had
got
rid
of
the
intolerable
fascination
of
its
presence
it
seemed
to
me
that
I
had
been
foolish
in
imagining
that
I
had
seen
anything
in
it
,
more
than
that
you
were
extremely
good-looking
,
and
that
I
could
paint
.
Even
now
I
can
not
help
feeling
that
it
is
a
mistake
to
think
that
the
passion
one
feels
in
creation
is
ever
really
shown
in
the
work
one
creates
.
Art
is
always
more
abstract
than
we
fancy
.
Form
and
colour
tell
us
of
form
and
colour
--
that
is
all
.
It
often
seems
to
me
that
art
conceals
the
artist
far
more
completely
than
it
ever
reveals
him
.
And
so
when
I
got
this
offer
from
Paris
I
determined
to
make
your
portrait
the
principal
thing
in
my
exhibition
.
It
never
occurred
to
me
that
you
would
refuse
.
I
see
now
that
you
were
right
.
The
picture
can
not
be
shown
.
You
must
not
be
angry
with
me
,
Dorian
,
for
what
I
have
told
you
.
As
I
said
to
Harry
,
once
,
you
are
made
to
be
worshipped
.
"
Dorian
Gray
drew
a
long
breath
.
The
colour
came
back
to
his
cheeks
,
and
a
smile
played
about
his
lips
.
The
peril
was
over
.
He
was
safe
for
the
time
.
Yet
he
could
not
help
feeling
infinite
pity
for
the
painter
who
had
just
made
this
strange
confession
to
him
,
and
wondered
if
he
himself
would
ever
be
so
dominated
by
the
personality
of
a
friend
.
Lord
Henry
had
the
charm
of
being
very
dangerous
.
But
that
was
all
.
He
was
too
clever
and
too
cynical
to
be
really
fond
of
.
Would
there
ever
be
someone
who
would
fill
him
with
a
strange
idolatry
?
Was
that
one
of
the
things
that
life
had
in
store
?
"
It
is
extraordinary
to
me
,
Dorian
,
"
said
Hallward
,
"
that
you
should
have
seen
this
in
the
portrait
.
Did
you
really
see
it
?
"
"
I
saw
something
in
it
,
"
he
answered
,
"
something
that
seemed
to
me
very
curious
.
"
"
Well
,
you
do
n't
mind
my
looking
at
the
thing
now
?
"
Dorian
shook
his
head
.
"
You
must
not
ask
me
that
,
Basil
.
I
could
not
possibly
let
you
stand
in
front
of
that
picture
.
"
"
You
will
some
day
,
surely
?
"
