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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。
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Chapter 10
灏彙…t…xt…澶ｅ爞
chapter 10
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