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1"I see you did. Don't speak. Wait till you hear what I have to say. Dorian, from the moment I met you, your personality
2had the most extraordinary influence over me. I was dominated, soul, brain, and power, by you. You became to me the
3visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. I worshipped you. I
4grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself. I was only happy when I was with you.
5When you were away from me, you were still present in my art.... Of course, I never let you know anything about this. It
6would have been impossible. You would not have understood it. I hardly understood it myself. I only knew that I had seen
7perfection face to face, and that the world had become wonderful to my eyes--too wonderful, perhaps, for in such mad
8worships there is peril, the peril of losing them, no less than the peril of keeping them.... Weeks and weeks went on,
9and I grew more and more absorbed in you. Then came a new development. I had drawn you as Paris in dainty armour, and as
10Adonis with huntsman's cloak and polished boar-spear. Crowned with heavy lotus-blossoms you had sat on the prow of
11Adrian's barge, gazing across the green turbid Nile. You had leaned over the still pool of some Greek woodland and seen
12in the water's silent silver the marvel of your own face. And it had all been what art should be--unconscious, ideal,
13and remote. One day, a fatal day I sometimes think, I determined to paint a wonderful portrait of you as you actually
14are, not in the costume of dead ages, but in your own dress and in your own time. Whether it was the realism of the
15method, or the mere wonder of your own personality, thus directly presented to me without mist or veil, I cannot tell.
16But 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
17others would know of my idolatry. I felt, Dorian, that I had told too much, that I had put too much of myself into it.
18Then it was that I resolved never to allow the picture to be exhibited. You were a little annoyed; but then you did not
19realize all that it meant to me. Harry, to whom I talked about it, laughed at me. But I did not mind that. When the
20picture was finished, and I sat alone with it, I felt that I was right.... Well, after a few days the thing left my
21studio, and as soon as I had got rid of the intolerable fascination of its presence, it seemed to me that I had been
22foolish in imagining that I had seen anything in it, more than that you were extremely good-looking and that I could
23paint. Even now I cannot help feeling that it is a mistake to think that the passion one feels in creation is ever
24really shown in the work one creates. Art is always more abstract than we fancy. Form and colour tell us of form and
25colour--that is all. It often seems to me that art conceals the artist far more completely than it ever reveals him. And
26so when I got this offer from Paris, I determined to make your portrait the principal thing in my exhibition. It never
27occurred to me that you would refuse. I see now that you were right. The picture cannot be shown. You must not be angry
28with me, Dorian, for what I have told you. As I said to Harry, once, you are made to be worshipped." Dorian Gray drew a
29long breath. The colour came back to his cheeks, and a smile played about his lips. The peril was over. He was safe for
30the time. Yet he could not help feeling infinite pity for the painter who had just made this strange confession to him,
31and wondered if he himself would ever be so dominated by the personality of a friend. Lord Henry had the charm of being
32very dangerous. But that was all. He was too clever and too cynical to be really fond of. Would there ever be some one
33who would fill him with a strange idolatry? Was that one of the things that life had in store? "It is extraordinary to
34me, Dorian," said Hallward, "that you should have seen this in the portrait. Did you really see it?" "I saw something in
35it," he answered, "something that seemed to me very curious." "Well, you don't mind my looking at the thing now?" Dorian
36shook his head. "You must not ask me that, Basil. I could not possibly let you stand in front of that picture." "You
37will some day, surely?" "Never." "Well, perhaps you are right. And now good-bye, Dorian. You have been the one person in
38my life who has really influenced my art. Whatever I have done that is good, I owe to you. Ah! you don't know what it
39cost me to tell you all that I have told you." "My dear Basil," said Dorian, "what have you told me? Simply that you
40felt that you admired me too much. That is not even a compliment." "It was not intended as a compliment. It was a
41confession. Now that I have made it, something seems to have gone out of me. Perhaps one should never put one's worship
42into words." "It was a very disappointing confession." "Why, what did you expect, Dorian? You didn't see anything else
43in the picture, did you? There was nothing else to see?" "No; there was nothing else to see. Why do you ask? But you
44mustn't talk about worship. It is foolish. You and I are friends, Basil, and we must always remain so." "You have got
45Harry," said the painter sadly. "Oh, Harry!" cried the lad, with a ripple of laughter. "Harry spends his days in saying
46what is incredible and his evenings in doing what is improbable. Just the sort of life I would like to lead. But still I
47don't think I would go to Harry if I were in trouble. I would sooner go to you, Basil." "You will sit to me again?"
48"Impossible!" "You spoil my life as an artist by refusing, Dorian. No man comes across two ideal things. Few come across
49one." "I can't explain it to you, Basil, but I must never sit to you again. There is something fatal about a portrait.
50It has a life of its own. I will come and have tea with you. That will be just as pleasant." "Pleasanter for you, I am
51afraid," murmured Hallward regretfully. "And now good-bye. I am sorry you won't let me look at the picture once again.
52But that can't be helped. I quite understand what you feel about it." As he left the room, Dorian Gray smiled to
53himself. Poor Basil! How little he knew of the true reason! And how strange it was that, instead of having been forced
54to reveal his own secret, he had succeeded, almost by chance, in wresting a secret from his friend! How much that
55strange confession explained to him! The painter's absurd fits of jealousy, his wild devotion, his extravagant
56panegyrics, his curious reticences--he understood them all now, and he felt sorry. There seemed to him to be something
57tragic in a friendship so coloured by romance. He sighed and touched the bell. The portrait must be hidden away at all
58costs. He could not run such a risk of discovery again. It had been mad of him to have allowed the thing to remain, even
59for an hour, in a room to which any of his friends had access.
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