A bitter laugh of mockery broke from the lips of the younger man.  “You shall see it yourself, to-night!” he cried, seizing a lamp from the table.  “Come:  it is your own handiwork.  Why shouldn’t you look at it?  You can tell the world all about it afterwards, if you choose.  Nobody would believe you.  If they did believe you, they’d like me all the better for it.  I know the age better than you do, though you will prate about it so tediously.  Come, I tell you.  You have chattered enough about corruption.  Now you shall look on it face to face.”

There was the madness of pride in every word he uttered.  He stamped his foot upon the ground in his boyish insolent manner.  He felt a terrible joy at the thought that some one else was to share his secret, and that the man who had painted the portrait that was the origin of all his shame was to be burdened for the rest of his life with the hideous memory of what he had done.

“Yes,” he continued, coming closer to him, and looking steadfastly into his stern eyes, “I will show you my soul.  You shall see the thing that you fancy only God can see.”

[81] Hallward started back.  “This is blasphemy, Dorian!” he cried.  “You must not say things like that.  They are horrible, and they don’t mean anything.”

“You think so?” He laughed again.

“I know so.  As for what I said to you to-night, I said it for your good.  You know I have been always devoted to you.”

“Don’t touch me.  Finish what you have to say.”

A twisted flash of pain shot across Hallward’s face.  He paused for a moment, and a wild feeling of pity came over him.  After all, what right had he to pry into the life of Dorian Gray?  If he had done a tithe of what was rumored about him, how much he must have suffered!  Then he straightened himself up, and walked over to the fireplace, and stood there, looking at the burning logs with their frost-like ashes and their throbbing cores of flame.

“I am waiting, Basil,” said the young man, in a hard, clear voice.

He turned round.  “What I have to say is this,” he cried.  “You must give me some answer to these horrible charges that are made against you.  If you tell me that they are absolutely untrue from beginning to end, I will believe you.  Deny them, Dorian, deny them!  Can’t you see what I am going through?  My God! don’t tell me that you are infamous!”

Dorian Gray smiled.  There was a curl of contempt in his lips.  “Come up-stairs, Basil,” he said, quietly.  “I keep a diary of my life from day to day, and it never leaves the room in which it is written.  I will show it to you if you come with me.”

“I will come with you, Dorian, if you wish it.  I see I have missed my train.  That makes no matter.  I can go to-morrow.  But don’t ask me to read anything to-night.  All I want is a plain answer to my question.”

“That will be given to you up-stairs.  I could not give it here.  You won’t have to read long.  Don’t keep me waiting.”