Pagina 346 de 490

"So you think that it is only God who sees the soul, Basil? Draw

that curtain back, and you will see mine."

The voice that spoke was cold and cruel. "You are mad, Dorian, or

playing a part," muttered Hallward, frowning.

"You won't? Then I must do it myself," said the young man, and he

tore the curtain from its rod and flung it on the ground.

An exclamation of horror broke from the painter's lips as he saw

in the dim light the hideous face on the canvas grinning at him.

There was something in its expression that filled him with

disgust and loathing. Good heavens! it was Dorian Gray's own face

that he was looking at! The horror, whatever it was, had not yet

entirely spoiled that marvellous beauty. There was still some

gold in the thinning hair and some scarlet on the sensual mouth.

The sodden eyes had kept something of the loveliness of their

blue, the noble curves had not yet completely passed away from

chiselled nostrils and from plastic throat. Yes, it was Dorian

himself. But who had done it? He seemed to recognize his own

brushwork, and the frame was his own design. The idea was

monstrous, yet he felt afraid. He seized the lighted candle, and

held it to the picture. In the left-hand corner was his own name,

traced in long letters of bright vermilion.