Through the crowd of ungainly, shabbily-dressed actors, Sibyl Vane moved like a creature from a finer world. The band, such as it was, struck up a few bars of music, and the dance began. Lord Henry peered through his glasses, murmuring, 'Charming! charming!' The scene was the hall of Capulet's house, and Romeo in his pilgrim's dress had entered with Mercutio and his other friends. Motionless, and as one in a dream, sat Dorian Gray, gazing at her. Basil Hallward leaped to his feet and began to applaud. She stepped back a few paces, and her lips seemed to tremble. A faint blush, like the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, came to her cheeks as she glanced at the crowded, enthusiastic house. There was something of the fawn in her shy grace and startled eyes. Yes, she was certainly lovely to look at-one of the loveliest creatures, Lord Henry thought, that he had ever seen. Then the curtain rises, and 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.'Ī quarter of an hour afterwards, amidst an extraordinary turmoil of applause, Sibyl Vane stepped on to the stage. It is quite dreadful, but it only lasts for about five minutes. Without her you would have been incomplete.' 'Thanks, Basil,' answered Dorian Gray, pressing his hand. I did not think so at first, but I admit it now. If this girl can give a soul to those who have lived without one, if she can create the sense of beauty in people whose lives have been sordid and ugly, if she can strip them of their selfishness and lend them tears for sorrows that are not their own, she is worthy of all your adoration, worthy of the adoration of the world. To spiritualise one's age-that is something worth doing. Anyone you love must be marvellous, and any girl that has the effect you describe must be fine and noble. 'I understand what you mean, and I believe in this girl. 'Don't pay any attention to him, Dorian,' said the painter.

She spiritualises them, and one feels that they are of the same flesh and blood as one's self.' 'The same flesh and blood as one's self! Oh, I hope not!' exclaimed Lord Henry, who was scanning the occupants of the gallery through his opera-glass.

She makes them as responsive as a violin. They weep and laugh as she wills them to do. These common, rough people, with their coarse faces and brutal gestures, become quite different when she is on the stage. When she acts you will forget everything. 'It was here I found her, and she is divine beyond all living things. 'What a place to find one's divinity in!' said Lord Henry. The sound of the popping of corks came from the bar. Their voices were horribly shrill and discordant. They talked to each other across the theatre, and shared their oranges with the tawdry girls who sat beside them. The youths in the gallery had taken off their coats and waistcoats and hung them over the side. The heat was terribly oppressive, and the huge sunlight flamed like a monstrous dahlia with petals of yellow fire. Hallward amused himself with watching the faces in the pit. At least he declared he did, and insisted on shaking him by the hand, and assuring him that he was proud to meet a man who had discovered a real genius and gone bankrupt over a poet. Lord Henry, upon the other hand, rather liked him. He felt as if he had come to look for Miranda and had been met by Caliban. He escorted them to their box with a sort of pompous humility, waving his fat jewelled hands, and talking at the top of his voice. For some reason or other, the house was crowded that night, and the fat Jew manager who met them at the door was beaming from ear to ear with an oily, tremulous smile.

Tremulous picture of dorian gray