“Mother, Mother, I am so happy,” whispered Sibyl Vane. “I am so happy, and you must be happy, too!”
Mrs. Vane did not look very happy. She was a small, thin woman who always looked tired. There was a lot of make up on her face and on her dry, thin mouth.
“I am only happy, Sibyl, when I see you act. You must not think of anything but your acting. Mr. Isaacs has been very good to us, and we owe him money.”
“Money, Mother?” she cried, “what does money matter? Love is more than money.”
“Oh, Sibyl,” said Mrs. Vane, “you mustn’t think about the young man who comes to the theatre. You must think about your acting. Mr. Isaacs will be angry if you don’t act well. He has given us a lot of money and you mustn’t make a theatre manager angry. You must not forget that, Sibyl. Fifty pounds is a very large sum. Mr. Isaacs has been most considerate.”
“I don’t like Mr. Isaacs, Mother, and I don’t care about money,” replied Sibyl, “I’m in love with Prince Charming.”
“Sibyl, Mr. Isaacs gave us fifty pounds to pay our bills and buy clothes for James. You love James – you love your brother – don’t you?” said Mrs. Vane.
“Yes, of course I do,” replied Sibyl. “But we have Prince Charming now. He will help us. We don’t need Mr. Isaacs.”
Sibyl Vane lived with her mother, and brother, James. They lived in London. But they lived in a small house in the north of London, a long way from Lord Henry’s large, expensive house.
It was the day after Sibyl had become engaged to Dorian. Sibyl and her mother were talking in their small living room.
“My child,” said her mother, “you are too young to think of falling in love. Besides, what do you know of this young man? You don’t even know his name. I’m very worried about you. And you know James is going away tomorrow. I’m worried about James too, James is going away to Australia and you have fallen in love. But if he is rich…”
“Ah! Mother, Mother, let me be happy!”
At that moment the door opened and James Vane came into the room. He was sixteen years old and he did not look like his sister. Sibyl was small and beautiful, with shining brown hair. James was large, with big hands and feet. His hair was dull and dark and not well combed, and there was something rough and angry in his expression.
James Vane looked into his sister’s face with tenderness. “I want you to come out with me for a walk, Sibyl. I don’t suppose I shall ever see this horrid London again. I am sure I don’t want to.”
“My son, don’t say such dreadful things,” murmured Mrs. Vane.
Sibyl went to get her coat and James spoke to his mother. “I’m worried about Sibyl,” he said. “I hear a gentleman comes every night to the theatre and goes behind to talk to her. Is that right? What about that?”
“Don’t worry, James,” Mrs. Vane replied. “Young men often fall in love with actresses.”
“But you don’t know his name,” said James, angrily, “Mother, you must take care of Sibyl.”
Sibyl and James went for a walk in Hyde Park. The park was busy. There were lots of people. There were people walking and people sitting in carriages pulled by horses.
Sibyl was happy. “I think you will have a wonderful life in Australia, James. I think you will become rich…”
She stopped speaking because James was not listening to her.
“You are not listening to a word I am saying, Jim,” cried Sibyl, “and I am making the most delightful plans for your future. Do say something. What’s bothering you?”
“I heard that there is a man who comes to see you every night at the theatre. Why haven’t you told me about him? He can’t be any good for you.[43]”
“Jim! Why do you say such things?”
“You don’t know his name, do you?”
“Stop, Jim!” she exclaimed. “You must not say anything against him. I love him. I call him Prince Charming. I will love him for ever.”
“You don’t know his name,” James said again, angrily. “He is a rich young man, and he will not marry you.”
“He is a prince!” she cried musically. “What more do you want?”
“He wants to enslave you. Sibyl, you are mad about him.”
She laughed and took his arm.
Just then a carriage drove by. There were two women in it and a young man with curly blond hair and laughing eyes.
“Oh, look! Look, there he is! He’s in that carriage!” Sibyl shouted.
“Who?”
“Prince Charming.”
“Where? Show him to me.”
She pointed across the park at a carriage. James looked across the park. But, at that moment, another carriage suddenly passed in front of the brother and sister. James never saw Prince Charming.
“Oh dear,” said Sibyl, “I wanted you to see him.”
“I wanted to see him too,” replied her brother, “because I will kill him if he ever hurts you. Do you hear me Sybil? I’ll kill him!”
James Vane’s eyes looked red with anger. At first Sibyl was angry with her brother. But she remembered that he was sixteen years old. He was a boy. He had never been in love.
“You won’t hurt a man I love, will you, James?” she said.
“No, I won’t,” he said at last. “I won’t hurt him if you love him.”
“I will always love Prince Charming,” said Sibyl. “And he will always love me.”
So Sibyl and James were friends again. But that evening, James spoke again to their mother.
“If this young man hurts Sibyl,” said he again. “I will find him and I will kill him. I will kill him like a dog!”
“Jim, what are you saying? Come, let us go. You will be late for your boat.”
“I suppose you have heard the news, Basil?” said Lord Henry the following evening. They were in the dining-room of the Bristol Hotel.
“No, Harry,” answered the artist, giving his hat and coat to the waiter. “What is it? Nothing about politics, I hope! They don’t interest me.”
“Dorian Gray is going to be married,” said Lord Henry, watching him as he spoke.
Hallward frowned. “Impossible!” he cried.
“It is perfectly true.”
“To whom?”
“To some little actress.”
“I can’t believe it. Dorian is far too sensible.[44]”
“Basil, whenever a man does a completely stupid thing, it is always for a good reason.”
“I hope this girl is good, Harry. I don’t want to see Dorian tied to some vile creature.”
“Oh, she is better than good – she is beautiful,” murmured Lord Henry. “Dorian says that she is beautiful and he is not often wrong about these things. Your portrait has helped him understand beauty in others. We are to see her tonight, if that boy doesn’t forget.”
“Are you serious?”
“Quite serious, Basil.”
“But how can Dorian marry an actress, Harry? It is absurd,” cried the painter, walking up and down the room, biting his lip. “Do you approve of it, Harry? You can’t approve of it, possibly.”
“I never approve, or disapprove, of anything now. You know I am not a champion of marriage. Dorian Gray falls in love with a beautiful actress who plays Juliet. He asks her to marry him. Why not? I hope that Dorian Gray marries this girl and worships her for six months. Then he can suddenly become fascinated by another woman.”
“You don’t mean a single word of that,[45] Harry! I know you don’t really want Dorian Gray’s life to be spoiled. You are much better than you pretend to be.”
Lord Henry laughed. “The reason we all like to think so well of others is because we are afraid for ourselves. But here is Dorian himself. He will tell you more than I can.”
“My dear Harry, my dear Basil, you must both congratulate me!” said the boy, throwing off his coat and shaking each of his friends’ hands. “I have never been so happy. Of course it is sudden – all the best things are. And yet it seems to me to be the one thing I have been looking for all my life.”
“I hope you will always be very happy, Dorian,” said Hallward, “but why did you not tell me? You let Harry know…”
“There really is not much to tell,” cried Dorian as they took their seats at the small round table. “Last night I went to see her again. After, when we were sitting together, there came into her eyes a wonderful look. It was something I had never seen there before. We kissed each other. I can’t describe to you what I felt at that moment.”
“Have you seen her today?” asked Lord Henry.
Dorian Gray shook his head. “I have left her in Shakespeare’s forest. I will find her in his garden.”
“At what exact point did you use the word marriage, Dorian? And what did she say in answer? Perhaps you forgot all about it?”
“My dear Harry, it was not a business meeting. I told her that I loved her, and she said she was not worthy to be my wife.”
“Women are wonderfully practical,” murmured Lord Henry, “much more practical than we are.”
“But my dear Dorian —”
Hallward put his hand on Lord Henry’s arm, “Don’t, Harry.[46] You have annoyed Dorian. He is not like other men. He would never harm anyone.”
Lord Henry looked across the table. “Dorian is never annoyed with me,” he answered.
Dorian Gray laughed. “When I am with Sibyl Vane I don’t believe in anything you have taught me. I forget all your fascinating, terrible ideas.”
“And those are..?” asked Lord Henry, helping himself to some salad.
“Oh, your theories about life, your theories about love, your theories about pleasure. All your theories, in fact, Harry.”
“Pleasure is the only thing worth having ideas about,[47]” he answered, in his slow, melodious voice. “When we are happy we are always good, but when we are good we are not always happy.”
“I know what pleasure is,” cried Dorian Gray. “It is to worship someone.”
“That is certainly better than when someone worships you.”
“Harry, you are terrible! I don’t know why I like you so much. Let us go down to the theatre. When you see Sibyl you will change your ideas.”
They got up and put on their coats. The painter was silent and thoughtful. He felt very sad. Dorian Gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past. Life had come between them.
When he arrived at the theatre it seemed to Hallward that he had grown years older.
The theatre was crowded that night. It was terribly hot and there were young people shouting to each other from across seats. Women were laughing loudly and their voices sounded horrible. People were eating oranges and drinking from bottles. Their voices were horribly shrill and discordant.
“What a place to find the perfect girl in!” said Lord Henry.
“Yes!” answered Dorian Gray. “It was here I found her. When you see her act, you will forget that you are in London. People in this theatre know nothing about acting, but even they change when she comes on stage. These ugly people become quite different when she appears. They sit silently and watch her. They weep and laugh as she wills them to do.”
“I understand what you mean, Dorian,” said the painter, “and I believe in this girl. Anyone you love must be wonderful. This marriage is quite right. I did not think so at first, but I admit it now.”
“Thanks, Basil,” answered Dorian Gray. “I knew that you would understand me. In a few minutes you will see the girl to whom I am going to give all my life, to whom I have given everything that is good in me.”
Sibyl Vane stepped on to the stage. The crowd shouted and called her name. Yes, she was certainly lovely to look at – one of the loveliest creatures, Lord Henry thought. Basil Hallward leaped to his feet and began to applaud. Dorian Gray sat staring at her like he was in a dream. Lord Henry peered through his glasses, murmuring, “Charming! charming!”
But Sibyl was acting badly. Something was wrong when she spoke, there was no emotion in her voice. Dorian Gray grew pale as he watched her. He was puzzled and anxious. Neither of his friends dared to say anything to him. She seemed to them to be absolutely incompetent. They were horribly disappointed.
A quarter of an hour later, Lord Henry whispered to Hallward, “She’s one of the loveliest girls I have ever seen. But she is a terrible actress.”
Dorian Gray’s face turned white as he watched her speak, “She was so different tonight! Now she was not Juliet but a very bad actress who did not understand Shakespeare’s words.”
Even the crowd became bored and began to talk loudly. The only person who did not seem to notice was the actress herself.
When the second act was over, Lord Henry got up from his chair and put on his coat. “She is quite beautiful, Dorian,” he said, “but she can’t act. Let us go.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t know what’s wrong. I am going to stay until the end,” answered Dorian in a cold voice. “I am awfully sorry that I have made you waste an evening, Harry. I apologize to you both.”
“My dear Dorian, perhaps Miss Vane is ill,” said Hallward. “We will come some other night.”
“She has entirely altered,” said Dorian, “Last night she was a great artist.”
“Come to the club with Basil and myself. We will smoke cigarettes and drink to the beauty of Sibyl Vane. She is beautiful. What more do you want? Who cares if your wife can’t act.[48] She’s beautiful. That’s enough. Dorian, you must not stay here any longer. It is not good for one’s morals to see bad acting.”
“Go away, Harry,” cried Dorian, “I want to be alone. Can’t you see that my heart is breaking?” Hot tears came to his eyes as Lord Henry and Hallward left the theatre.
When it was over, Dorian Gray rushed to see Sibyl Vane. The girl was standing there alone, with a look of extraordinary happiness on her face.
“How badly I acted tonight, Dorian!” she cried.
“Horribly!” he answered, staring at her. “It was dreadful. Are you ill? You have no idea what it was. You have no idea what I suffered.”
The girl smiled, “Dorian, don’t you understand?”
“Understand what?” he asked, angrily.
“Why I was so bad tonight. Why I will always be bad. Why I will never act well again.”
“You are ill, I suppose. When you are ill, you shouldn’t act. You make yourself ridiculous. My friends were bored. I was bored.”
“Dorian, Dorian,” she cried, “before I knew you, acting was the one important thing in my life. It was only in the theatre that I lived. I thought that it was all true. Tonight, for the first time, I became conscious that the Romeo was hideous, and old, and painted, that the moonlight in the orchard was false, that the scenery was vulgar, and that the words I had to speak were unreal, were not my words, were not what I wanted to say. I saw that I was playing at love. Our love for each other is the only true love. I cannot act anymore because I have found true love. How can I act like Juliet when I do not feel her love? I only feel my love for you, Dorian. Take me away with you, Dorian! I don’t want to be an actress any more.”
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