Портрет Доріана Грея

           Itneveroccurredtomethatyouwouldrefuse. Iseenowthatyouwereright. Thepicturecannotbeshown. Youmustnotbeangrywithme,Dorian,forwhatIhavetoldyou. AsIsaidtoHarry,once,youaremadetobeworshipped." 

           DorianGraydrewalongbreath. Thecolourcamebacktohischeeks,andasmileplayedabouthislips. Theperilwasover. Hewassafeforthetime. Yethecouldnothelpfeelinginfinitepityforthepainterwhohadjustmadethisstrangeconfessiontohim,andwonderedifhehimselfwouldeverbesodominatedbythepersonalityofafriend. LordHenryhadthecharmofbeingverydangerous. Butthatwasall. Hewastoocleverandtoocynicaltobereallyfondof. Wouldthereeverbesomeonewhowouldfillhimwithastrangeidolatry? Wasthatoneofthethingsthatlifehadinstore? 

           "Itisextraordinarytome,Dorian,"saidHallward,"thatyoushouldhaveseenthisintheportrait. Didyoureallyseeit?" 

           "Isawsomethinginit,"heanswered,"somethingthatseemedtomeverycurious." 

           "Well,youdon’tmindmylookingatthethingnow?" 

           Dorianshookhishead. "Youmustnotaskmethat,Basil. Icouldnotpossiblyletyoustandinfrontofthatpicture." 

           "Youwillsomeday,surely?" 

           "Never."