Cer 9

        As ting at breakfast    m, Basil o the room.

        "I am so glad I ; ;I called last nigold me you    t    I ragedy mig elegrap first. I read of it quite by ce edition of t I picked up at t ond    not finding you. I t tell you -broken I am about t you must suffer. But    of folloon Road, isnt it? But I ruding upon a sorro I could not lig a state s be in! And oo!    did s it all?"

        "My dear Basil, ; murmured Dorian Gray, sipping some pale-yelloe, gold-beaded bubble of Veian glass and looking dreadfully bored. "I    t Lady G time. e i sang divinely. Dont talk about s. If one doesnt talk about a t    is simply expression, as    gives reality to tion t s t    on tage. ell me about yourself and ing."

        "You    to t; said raiouc;You    to talk to me of otti singing divinely, before t of a grave to sleep in? ore for t little we body of ;

        "Stop, Basil! I    !" cried Dorian, leaping to . "You must not tell me about t is done is done.    is past is past."

        "You call yesterday t?"

        " ual lapse of time got to do ? It is only so get rid of aion. A man     to be at tions. I    to use to enjoy to domi;

        "Dorian, tely. You look exactly ter day, used to e doo my studio to sit for ure. But you ural, and affeate t unspoiled creature in t knoy in you. It is all ."

        to t for a fes on t;I o deal to ;    last, "more to you. You only taugo be vain."

        "ell, I am punis, Dorian--or s;

        "I dont kn round. "I dont kno.    do you ?"

        "I    to paint," said tist sadly.

        "Basil," said to ting ;you oo late. Yesterday, w Sibyl Vane ;

        "Killed    about t?" cried    h an expression of horror.

        "My dear Basil! Surely you dont t ? Of course s;

        t;; tered, and a shrough him.

        "No," said Dorian Gray, "t it. It is one of t romantic tragedies of t lead t onplace lives. tedious. You knoue and all t kind of t Sibyl ragedy. S nig you say, s migo t. tyr about ic uselessness of martyrdom, all its ed beauty. But, as I    not t suffered. If you erday at a particular moment-- about    five, perer to six-- you ,    I    passed a repeat aion. No one , except sealists. And you are a, Basil. You e do is cic person! You remind me of a story old me about a certain p y years    to get some grievance redressed, or some unjust laered--I fet exactly    . ely noto do, almost died of ennui, and became a firmed misant to e, teacet    from a proper artistic point of vie not Gautier e about la solation des arts? I remember pig up a little vellum-covered book in your studio one day and c delig like t young man you told me of ogeto say t yelloin could sole one for all tiful t one    touce surroundings, luxury, pomp--to be got from all t tistic temperament t te, or at any rate reveal, is still more to me. to bee tator of ones o my talking to you like t realized s, ne, but you must not like me less. I am ust al you are better t stronger-- you are too muc you are better. And o be toget leave me, Basil, and dont quarrel    I am. to be said."

        ter felt strangely moved. tely dear to y    turning point in .    bear ter all,     was good, so muc was noble.

        "ell, Dorian,"    lengt;I    speak to you again about ter to-day. I only trust your name    be mentioned in e . t is to take place ternoon. ;

        Dorian s tion of t;i." t everyt;t kno; he answered.

        "But surely s;

        "Only my    name, and t I am quite sure sioo any one. Sold me oo learn    ty of    do me a dra;

        "I ry and do somet    you must e and sit to me yourself again. I t get on    you."

        "I ever sit to you again, Basil. It is impossible!" arting back.

        ter stared at ;My dear boy, ; ;Do you mean to say you dont like ? Let me look at it. It is t take t is simply disgraceful of your servant . I felt t as I came in."

        "My servant o do , Basil. You dont imagine I let tles my floimes-- t is all. No; I did it myself. t o on trait."

        "to! Surely not, my dear fello is an admirable place for it. Let me see it." And ohe room.

        A cry of terror broke from Dorian Grays lips, and er and t;Basil," ;you must not look at it. I dont ;

        "Not look at my o serious.    I look at it?" exclaimed hallward, laughing.

        "If you try to look at it, Basil, on my e serious. I dont offer any explanation, and you are not to ask for any. But, remember, if you touc;

        ruck.    Dorian Gray in absolute amazement. ually pallid rembling all over.

        "Dorian!"

        "Dont speak!"

        "But ter? Of course I    look at it if you dont    me to," urning on o;But, really, it seems rat I s see my oo ex it in Paris in tumn. I so give it anot of varnis, so I must see it some day, and o-day?"

        "to ex it! You    to ex it?" exclaimed Dorian Gray, a strange sense of terror creeping over o be s? ere people to gape at tery of     kno once.

        "Yes; I dont suppose you    to t. Gees Petit is going to collect all my best pictures for a special exion in t ober. trait    for t time. In fact, you are sure to be out of to al."

        Dorian Gray passed ion t t ;You told me a mont you ," ;ent    as many moods as ot your moods are rat ten t you assured me most solemnly t noto send it to any exion. You told ly t; opped suddenly, and a gleam of ligo    Lord o , "If you    te quarter of an    Basil to tell you ure. old me    ion to me." Yes, peroo, . ry.

        "Basil," e close and looking raig; me knoo ex my picture?"

        ter se of ;Dorian, if I told you, you migainly laug me. I could not bear your doio look at your picture again, I am tent. I o look at. If you ation."

        "No, Basil, you must tell me," insisted Dorian Gray. "I t to kno; error y aken its place. ermio find out Basil ery.

        "Let us sit do; said ter, looking troubled. "Let us sit do ansion. iced in ture somet probably at first did not strike you, but t revealed itself to you suddenly?"

        "Basil!" cried tcrembling    artled eyes.

        "I see you did. Dont speak. ait till you    I o say. Dorian, from t I met you, your personality    extraordinary influence over me. I ed, soul, brain, and poo me tion of t unseen ideal ists like an exquisite dream. I o o myself. I    in my art.... Of course, I never let you kno t . I ood it myself. I only kne I ion face to face, and t to my eyes-- too . I y armour, and as Adonis smans cloak and polisus-blossoms you    on turbid Nile. You ill pool of some Greek ers silent silver t    art se. One day, a fatal day I sometimes termio paint a rait of you as you actually are, not in tume of dead ages, but in your oime.    y, tly preseo me    mist or veil, I ot tell. But I kno as I    it, every flake and film of colour seemed to me to reveal my secret. I gre otry. I felt, Dorian, t I old too muc I    too muco it. t    I resolved o alloure to be exed. You tle annoyed; but t realize all t it meant to me. o    it, laug me. But I did not mind t. ure , I felt t I    my studio, and as soon as I    rid of tolerable fasation of its prese seemed to me t I    I , more t you remely good-looking and t I could paint. Even no    it is a mistake to t tion is ever really ses. Art is alract tell us of form and colour--t is all. It ofteo me t art ceals tist far more pletely t ever reveals    termio make your portrait tion. It never occurred to me t you    you    be s not be angry    I old you. As I said to o be wors;

        Dorian Gray dreo    ime. Yet    e pity for ter range fession to ed by ty of a friend. Lord    t oo ical to be really fond of. ould trange idolatry? as t one of t life ore?

        "It is extraordinary to me, Dorian," said ;t you srait. Did you really see it?"

        "I sa," ;somet seemed to me very curious."

        "ell, you dont mind my looking at t;

        Dorian s;You must not ask me t, Basil. I could not possibly let you stand in front of t picture."

        "You ;

        "Never."

        "ell, per. And noo you. A kno e to tell you all t I old you."

        "My dear Basil," said Dorian, " you felt t you admired me too muc is not even a pliment."

        "It    intended as a pliment. It    I , someto    of me. Per ones ;

        "It ing fession."

        " did you expect, Dorian? You didnt see anyture, did you? to see?"

        "No; to see.    you mustnt talk about ;

        "You    ; said ter sadly.

        "O; cried ter. " is incredible and    is improbable. Just t of life I o lead. But still I dont to rouble. I o you, Basil."

        "You    to me again?"

        "Impossible!"

        "You spoil my life as an artist by refusing, Dorian. No man es across t;

        "I t explain it to you, Basil, but I must never sit to you again. tal about a portrait. It s o    as pleasant."

        "Pleasanter for you, I am afraid," murmured fully. "And    me look at ture once again. But t t be e uand    it."

        As    to tle rue reason! And ra , instead of o reveal ,    by g a secret from    strange fession explaio ers absurd fits of jealousy, iant panegyrics, ices-- ood t sorry. to o be si a friendship so coloured by romance.

        oucrait must be    all costs.    run suain, even for an o whiy of his friends had access.
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