That young
soldier, who was your friend – why did he kill himself? There was Sir Henry
Ashton, who had to leave England with a bad name. And what about Lord Kent’s
son? What kind of life does he have now?’
‘Stop, Basil, You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Said Dorian coldly.
‘Did I teach these people how to live their lives? And the people who tell these stories –
are their lives any better than mine?’ ‘And there are other stories too,’
continued Basil. ‘Are they true? Can your life really be so bad, so evil? You
were a fine young man once, but now, when I hear these stories, I wonder… Do I
know you at all? What has happened to the real Dorian Gray? I think I would have
to see your soul before I could answer those questions.’ ‘The real Dorian Gray?’
asked Dorian quietly, his face white with fear. ‘Yes,’ said the artist sadly.
‘But only God can see your soul.’ A terrible laugh came from the younger man.
‘Come, Basil,’ he cried. ‘Come with me! I will show you what only God can see.
Why not? It’s your own work. You’ve talked enough about evil. Now you must look
at it.’ He took Basil upstairs to the locked room.
Inside, he turned to the artist, with smiling lips and cold, hard eyes. ‘You’re the one man
in the world who should know my secret. Are you sure that you want to?’ ‘Yes.’
