perhaps；　for　in　such　mad　worships　there　is　peril；　the　peril　of　losing　them；　no　less　than　the　peril　of　keeping　them。。。。　weeks　and　weeks　went　on；　and　i　grew　more　and　more　absorbed　in　you。　then　came　a　new　development。　i　had　drawn　you　as　paris　in　dainty　armour；　and　as　adonis　with　huntsmans　cloak　and　polished　boar…spear。　crowned　with　heavy　lotus…blossoms　you　had　sat　on　the　prow　of　adrians　barge；　gazing　across　the　green　turbid　nile。　you　had　leaned　over　the　still　pool　of　some　greek　woodland　and　seen　in　the　waters　silent　silver　the　marvel　of　your　own　face。　and　it　had　all　been　what　art　should　beunconscious；　ideal；　and　remote。　one　day；　a　fatal　day　i　sometimes　think；　i　determined　to　paint　a　wonderful　portrait　of　you　as　you　actually　are；　not　in　the　costume　of　dead　ages；　but　in　your　own　dress　and　in　your　own　time。　whether　it　was　the　realism　of　the　method；　or　the　mere　wonder　of　your　own　personality；　thus　directly　presented　to　me　without　mist　or　veil；　i　cannot　tell。　but　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　others　would　know　of　my　idolatry。　i　felt；　dorian；　that　i　had　told　too　much；　that　i　had　put　too　much　of　myself　into　it。　then　it　was　that　i　resolved　never　to　allow　the　picture　to　be　exhibited。　you　were　a　little　annoyed；　but　then　you　did　not　realize　all　that　it　meant　to　me。　harry；　to　whom　i　talked　about　it；　laughed　at　me。　but　i　did　not　mind　that。　when　the　picture　was　finished；　and　i　sat　alone　with　it；　i　felt　that　i　was　right。。。。　well；　after　a　few　days　the　thing　left　my　studio；　and　as　soon　as　i　had　got　rid　of　the　intolerable　fascination　of　its　presence；　it　seemed　to　me　that　i　had　been　foolish　in　imagining　that　i　had　seen　anything　in　it；　more　than　that　you　were　extremely　good…looking　and　that　i　could　paint。　even　now　i　cannot　help　feeling　that　it　is　a　mistake　to　think　that　the　passion　one　feels　in　creation　is　ever　really　shown　in　the　work　one　creates。　art　is　always　more　abstract　than　we　fancy。　form　and　colour　tell　us　of　form　and　colourthat　is　all。　it　often　seems　to　me　that　art　conceals　the　artist　far　more　pletely　than　it　ever　reveals　him。　and　so　when　i　got　this　offer　from　paris；　i　determined　to　make　your　portrait　the　principal　thing　in　my　exhibition。　it　never　occurred　to　me　that　you　would　refuse。　i　see　now　that　you　were　right。　the　picture　cannot　be　shown。　you　must　not　be　angry　with　me；　dorian；　for　what　i　have　told　you。　as　i　said　to　harry；　once；　you　are　made　to　be　worshipped。〃
  dorian　gray　drew　a　long　breath。　the　colour　came　back　to　his　cheeks；　and　a　smile　played　about　his　lips。　the　peril　was　over。　he　was　safe　for　the　time。　yet　he　could　not　help　feeling　infinite　pity　for　the　painter　who　had　just　made　this　strange　confession　to　him；　and　wondered　if　he　himself　would　ever　be　so　dominated　by　the　personality　of　a　friend。　lord　henry　had　the　charm　of　being　very　dangerous。　but　that　was　all。　he　was　too　clever　and　too　cynical　to　be　really　fond　of。　would　there　ever　be　some　one　who　would　fill　him　with　a　strange　idolatry？　was　that　one　of　the　things　that　life　had　in　store？
  〃it　is　extraordinary　to　me；　dorian；〃　said　hallward；　〃that　you　should　have　seen　this　in　the　portrait。　did　you　really　see　it？〃
  〃i　saw　something　in　it；〃　he　answered；　〃something　that　seemed　to　me　very　curious。〃
  〃well；　you　dont　mind　my　looking　at　the　thing　now？〃
  dorian　shook　his　head。　〃you　must　not　ask　me　that；　basil。　i　could　not　possibly　let　you　stand　in　front　of　that　picture。〃
  〃you　will　some　day；　surely？〃
  〃never。〃
  〃well；　perhaps　you　are　right。　and　now　good…bye；　dorian。　you　have　been　the　one　person　in　my　life　who　has　really　influenced　my　art。　whatever　i　have　done　that　is　good；　i　owe　to　you。　ah！　you　dont　know　what　it　cost　me　to　tell　you　all　that　i　have　told　you。〃
  〃my　dear　basil；〃　said　dorian；　〃what　have　you　told　me？　simply　that　you　felt　that　you　admired　me　too　much。　that　is　not　even　a　pliment。〃
  〃it　was　not　intended　as　a　pliment。　it　was　a　confession。　now　that　i　have　made　it；　something　seems　to　have　gone　out　of　me。　perhaps　one　should　never　put　ones　worship　into　words。〃
  〃it　was　a　very　disappointing　confession。〃
  〃why；　what　did　you　expect；　dorian？　you　didnt　see　anything　else　in　the　picture；　did　you？　there　was　nothing　else　to　see？〃
  〃no；　there　was　nothing　else　to　see。　why　do　you　ask？　but　you　mustnt　talk　about　worship。　it　is　foolish。　you　and　i　are　friends；　basil；　and　we　must　always　remain　so。〃
  〃you　have　got　harry；〃　said　the　painter　sadly。
  〃oh；　harry！〃　cried　the　lad；　with　a　ripple　of　laughter。　〃harry　spends　his　days　in　saying　what　is　incredible　and　his　evenings　in　doing　what　is　improbable。　just　the　sort　of　life　i　would　like　to　lead。　but　still　i　dont　think　i　would　go　to　harry　if　i　were　in　trouble。　i　would　sooner　go　to　you；　basil。〃
  〃you　will　sit　to　me　again？〃
  〃impossible！〃
  〃you　spoil　my　life　as　an　artist　by　refusing；　dorian。　no　man　es　across　two　ideal　things。　few　e　across　one。〃
  〃i　cant　explain　it　to　you；　basil；　but　i　must　never　sit　to　you　again。　there　is　something　fatal　about　a　portrait。　it　has　a　life　of　its　own。　i　will　e　and　have　tea　with　you。　that　will　be　just　as　pleasant。〃
  〃pleasanter　for　you；　i　am　afraid；〃　murmured　hallward　regretfully。　〃and　now　good…bye。　i　am　sorry　you　wont　let　me　look　at　the　picture　once　again。　but　that　cant　be　helped。　i　quite　understand　what　you　feel　about　it。〃
  as　he　left　the　room；　dorian　gray　smiled　to　himself。　poor　basil！　how　little　he　knew　of　the　true　reason！　and　how　strange　it　was　that；　instead　of　having　been　forced　to　reveal　his　own　secret；　he　had　succeeded；　almost　by　chance；　in　wresting　a　secret　from　his　friend！　how　much　that　strange　confession　explained　to　him！　the　painters　absurd　fits　of　jealousy；　his　wild　devotion；　his　extravagant　panegyrics；　his　curious　reticences　he　understood　them　all　now；　and　he　felt　sorry。　there　seemed　to　him　to　be　something　tragic　in　a　friendship　so　coloured　by　romance。
  he　sighed　and　touched　the　bell。　the　portrait　must　be　hidden　away　at　all　costs。　he　could　not　run　such　a　risk　of　discovery　again。　it　had　been　mad　of　him　to　have　allowed　the　thing　to　remain；　even　for　an　hour；　in　a　room　to　which　any　of　his　friends　had　access。
  w锛穡銆倄iaoshuo　txt锛?br />
  Chapter　10
  灏彙…t…xt…澶ｅ爞
  chapter　10
  when　his　servant　entered；　be　looked　at　him　steadfastly　and　wondered　if　he　had　thought　of　peering　behind　the　screen。　the　man　was　quite　impassive　and　waited　for　his　orders。　dorian　lit　a　cigarette　and　walked　over　to　the　glass　and　glanced　into　it。　he　could　see　the　reflection　of　victors　face　perfectly。　it　was　like　a　placid　mask　of　servility。　there　was　nothing　to　be　afraid　of；　there。　yet　he　thought　it　best　to　be　on　his　guard。
  speaking　very　slowly；　he　told　him　to　tell　the　house…keeper　that　he　wanted　to　see　her；　and　then　to　go　to　the　frame…maker　and　ask　him　to　send　two　of　his　men　round　at　once。　it　seemed　to　him　that　as　the　man　left　the　room　his　eyes　wandered　in　the　direction　of　the　screen。　or　was　that　merely　his　own　fancy？
  after　a　few　moments；　in　her　black　silk　dress；　with　old…fashioned　thread　mittens　on　her　wrinkled　hands；　mrs。　leaf　bustled　into　the　library。　he　asked　her　for　the　key　of　the　schoolroom。
  〃the　old　schoolroom；　mr。　dorian？〃　she　exclaimed。　〃why；　it　is　full　of　dust。　i　must　get　it　arranged　and　put　straight　before　you　go　into　it。　it　is　not　fit　for　you　to　see；　sir。　it　is　not；　indeed。〃
  〃i　dont　want　it　put　straight；　leaf。　i　only　want　the　key。〃
  〃well；　sir；　youll　be　covered　with　cobwebs　if　you　go　into　it。　why；　it　hasnt　been　opened　for　nearly　five　yearsnot　since　his　lordship　died。〃
  he　winced　at　the　mention　of　his　grandfather。　he　had　hateful　memories　of　him。　〃that　does　not　matter；〃　he　answered。　〃i　simply　want　to　see　the　place　that　is　all。　give　me　the　key。〃
  〃and　here　is　the　key；　sir；〃　said　the　old　lady；　going　over　the　contents　of　her　bunch　with　tremulously　uncertain　hands。　〃here　is　the　key。　ill　have　it　off　the　bunch　in　a　moment。　but　you　dont　think　of　living　up　there；　sir；　and　you　so　fortable　here？〃
  〃no；　no；〃　he　cried　petulantly。　〃thank　you；　leaf。　that　will　do。〃
  she　lingered　for　a　few　moments；　and　was　garrulous　over　some　detail　of　the　household。　he　sighed　and　told　her　to　manage　things　as　she　thought　best。　she　left　the　room；　wreathed　in　smiles。
  as　the　door　closed；　dorian　put　the　key　in　his　pocket　and　looked　round　the　room。　his　eye　fell　on　a　large；　purple　satin　coverlet　heavily　embroidered　with　gold；　a　splendid　piece　of　late　seventeenth…century　venetian　work　that　his　grandfather　had　found　in　a　convent　near　bologna。　yes；　that　would　serve　to　wrap　the　dreadful　thing　in。　it　had　perhaps　served　often　as　a　pall　for　the　dead。　now　it　was　to　hide　something　that　had　a　corruption　of　its　own；　worse　than　the　corruption　of　death　itself　something　that　would　breed　horrors　and　yet　would　never　die。　what　the　worm　was　to　the　corpse；　his　sins　would　be　to　the　painted　image　on　the　canvas。　they　would　mar　its　beauty　and　eat　away　its　grace。　they　would　defile　it　and　make　it　shameful。　and　yet　the　thing　would　still　live　on。　it　would　be　always　alive。
  he　shuddered；　and　for　a　moment　he　regretted　that　he　had　not　told　basil　the　true　reason　why　he　had　wished　to　hide　the　picture　away。　basil　would　have　helped　him　to　resist　lord　henrys　influence；　and　the　still　more　poisonous　influences　that　came　from　his　own　temperament。　the　love　that　he　bo