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Updated: June 10, 2025
He would destroy it. He looked round and saw the knife that had stabbed Basil Hallward. He had cleaned it many times, till there was no stain left upon it. It was bright, and glistened. As it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painter's work, and all that that meant. It would kill the past, and when that was dead, he would be free.
"He won't like you the better for keeping your promises. He always breaks his own. I beg you not to go." Dorian Gray laughed and shook his head. "I entreat you." The lad hesitated, and looked over at Lord Henry, who was watching them from the tea-table with an amused smile. "I must go, Basil," he answered. "Very well," said Hallward; and he went over and laid down his cup on the tray.
The sky was pure opal now, and the roofs of the houses glistened like silver against it. As he was passing through the library towards the door of his bedroom, his eye fell upon the portrait Basil Hallward had painted of him. He started back in surprise, and then went over to it and examined it.
I have something to say to you." "I shall be charmed. But won't you miss your train?" said Dorian Gray, languidly, as he passed up the steps and opened the door with his latch-key. The lamp-light struggled out through the fog, and Hallward looked at his watch. "I have heaps of time," he answered. "The train doesn't go till twelve-fifteen, and it is only just eleven.
For that for that I would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for that!" "You would hardly care for such an arrangement, Basil," cried Lord Henry, laughing. "It would be rather hard lines on your work." "I should object very strongly, Harry," said Hallward. Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. "I believe you would, Basil.
It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the colored canvas, reveals himself. The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown with it the secret of my own soul." Lord Harry laughed. "And what is that?" he asked. "I will tell you," said Hallward; and an expression of perplexity came over his face.
He sat down and began to think. Every year every month, almost men were strangled in England for what he had done. There had been a madness of murder in the air. Some red star had come too close to the earth.... And yet, what evidence was there against him? Basil Hallward had left the house at eleven. No one had seen him come in again. Most of the servants were at Selby Royal.
Your portrait of him has quickened his appreciation of the personal appearance of other people. It has had that excellent effect, among others. We are to see her to-night, if that boy doesn't forget his appointment." "But do you approve of it, Harry?" asked Hallward, walking up and down the room, and biting his lip. "You can't approve of it, really. It is some silly infatuation."
You have had more to do with my life than you think:" and, taking up the lamp, he opened the door and went in. A cold current of air passed them, and the light shot up for a moment in a flame of murky orange. He shuddered. "Shut the door behind you," he whispered, as he placed the lamp on the table. Hallward glanced round him, with a puzzled expression.
They have a right to demand it back." "That is quite true, Dorian," cried Hallward. "Nothing is ever quite true," said Lord Henry. "This is," interrupted Dorian. "You must admit, Harry, that women give to men the very gold of their lives." "Possibly," he sighed, "but they invariably want it back in such very small change. That is the worry.
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