Портрет Доріана Грея

           "GoodGod,Dorian,whatalesson! whatanawfullesson! "Therewasnoanswer,buthecouldheartheyoungmansobbingatthewindow. "Pray,Dorian,pray,"hemurmured. "Whatisitthatonewastaughttosayinone’sboyhood? ‘Leadusnotintotemptation. Forgiveusoursins. Washawayouriniquities. ’Letussaythattogether. Theprayerofyourpridehasbeenanswered. Theprayerofyourrepentancewillbeansweredalso. Iworshippedyoutoomuch. Iampunishedforit. Youworshippedyourselftoomuch. Wearebothpunished." 

           DorianGrayturnedslowlyaround,andlookedathimwithtear-dimmedeyes. "Itistoolate,Basil,"hefaltered. 

           "Itisnevertoolate,Dorian. Letuskneeldownandtryifwecannotrememberaprayer. Isn’tthereaversesomewhere,‘Thoughyoursinsbeasscarlet; yetIwillmakethemaswhiteassnow’?" 

           "Thosewordsmeannothingtomenow." 

           "Hush!don’tsaythat. Youhavedoneenoughevilinyourlife. MyGod!don’tyouseethataccursedthingleeringatus?" 

           DorianGrayglancedatthepicture,andsuddenlyanuncontrollablefeelingofhatredforBasilHallwardcameoverhim, asthoughithadbeensuggestedtohimbytheimageonthecanvas,whisperedintohisearbythosegrinninglips. Themadpassionsofahuntedanimalstirredwithinhim,andheloathedthemanwhowasseatedatthetable,morethaninhiswholelifehehadeverloathedanything. Heglancedwildlyaround. Somethingglimmeredonthetopofthepaintedchestthatfacedhim. Hiseyefellonit.