Chapter 12 — The Picture of Dorian Gray

On a foggy November night, the eve of his thirty-eighth birthday, Dorian walks home from Lord Henry's and tries to pass Basil Hallward unrecognized in the mist. Basil has waited in the library since nine o'clock and follows him inside before the midnight train to Paris, trading small talk about servants while Dorian deflects anything serious.

Basil finally demands a hearing: dreadful things are said about Dorian in London, and a gentleman's name should matter even if his face still looks innocent. He lists the Duke of Berwick leaving clubs, ruined young men, Lady Gwendolen disgraced, dawn sightings in foul dens, and a dying woman's letter that names Dorian in horror. Dorian answers with contempt, calling England the native land of the hypocrite, but Basil insists friends have lost honor because Dorian led them into pleasure.

When Basil says he cannot know Dorian until he has seen his soul, Dorian turns white, then laughs and seizes a lamp. Pride replaces fear: the painter who made the portrait will finally look on what it records. Dorian calls it his diary, kept in the room where it is written, and invites Basil upstairs, saying the plain answer cannot be given in the library below.