'Then uncover that picture, Basil, and you will see my soul.'
A cry of horror came from the artist when he saw the
terrible face in the portrait. How could that evil and unlovely
face be Dorian Gray's? But yes, it was. He went nearer to the
picture. It could not be the portrait that he had painted. But
yes there was his name written in the corner. He turned and
looked at Dorian Gray with the eyes of a sick man.
'What does this mean?' he asked at last.
'When you finished the portrait,' replied Dorian, 'I made a
wish . . .'
'I remember, yes,' said Basil. 'You wished that the picture
could become old, and that you could stay young. But this
. .'He stared again at the picture. This is impossible. And
you told me that you'd destroyed the picture.' . .
'I was wrong. It has destroyed me.'
'My God, Dorian!' cried the artist. 'If this is true .. . If this
is the face of your soul, then you are more evil than the worst
of the stories about you.' He sat down at the table and put his
face in his hands. 'You must ask God for his help.'
'It's too late, Basil.'
'It's never too late, Dorian. Look at that terrible face. Look
at it!'
"Dorian turned and stared at the face in the picture, and
suddenly he hated Basil more than he had ever hated anyone
in his life. Basil now knew his secret, and had seen the real
Dorian Gray. Violent feelings burned inside Dorian. He
picked up a knife from the table. Then the hate inside him
exploded, and like a wild animal, he ran towards Basil, and
dug the knife into the artist's neck, again and again and