The Wolf of Dorian Gray - A Werewolf Spawned by the Evil of Man

Chapter 8 - The Theatre Part 1

A week later, Lady Helena and Sage met with Dorian at the prescribed time. The three proceeded to the theatre with Dorian excited that his two friends would finally see Sibyl in all her glory and artistry as he had so many times before. As they were guided into his usual box, Dorian beamed with pride and anticipation. Finally, they would meet his lady love and see her for the brilliant actress that she was.

That night the house was as crowded as an overfilled barrel, its sides bursting with people. Laughter and voices filled the theatre with a discordant sound that made understanding each other quite difficult. Lady Helena was forced to raise her voice to be heard. "What a strange place to encounter a divine beauty that could capture your heart!"

Dorian re-examined their surroundings as if for the first time. "Oh, yes, it is a coarse and common place, but it is here that I found her. For even the finest gems are found among the rock and grit of the earth. How the crowd responds when she is on stage. They laugh and cry at her command and the audience is but her instrument, as the violin to the orchestra."

"Don't listen to her, Dorian," Sage intoned. "Any girl who can capture your heart must be marvelously talented and beautiful beyond description. If this Miss Vane of yours can truly make the common people forget the struggle of their lives but for a moment, if she can transcend selfishness and sorrow, if she can deliver beauty to their lives, then she is truly worthy of you."

The crowd hushed as the orchestra began to play. The great curtain, stained and threadbare in a few places, rose moments later. To thunderous applause, Sibyl Vane took the stage. She was certainly beautiful. In that moment Dorian was sure he was looking at one of the most hauntingly lovely creatures that he had ever seen. Sibyl made an apt Juliet as she took up the dance in the hall of the Capulet's house. Her body moved finely, with curves flowing like water, displaying an unworldly grace.

Despite that, her face seemed strangely distracted. Her eyes were listless and no joy could be found there. She seemed preoccupied as she scanned the crowd and delivered her lines strangely. Unlike her previous performances, her voice now carried an artificial tone. Her passion for her on-stage Romeo seemed forced and the inflection of her declarations of love rang hollow. Dorian grew puzzled and confused as he watched her cavort and frolic around the stage. His friends grew suddenly silent as if they dared not say a word. With horror, he began to sense their disappointment at Sibyl's performance and in her as his love interest. Dorian began to sweat. Perhaps she was ill—yes that was it. Undoubtedly some malady had befallen her, causing this result. There was something wrong but surely, surely her performance at the balcony scene in the second act would ring true. It was the climax of the play and any actress playing Juliet would certainly marshal her reserves for that scene.

Sibyl appeared on the tall balcony in the ivory moonlight. She looked the part perfectly. Her hair was adorned with a flowery wreath of the brightest flowers. Her figure was draped in delicate imported silk that matched the color of the moon. She was beautiful to behold. But again, her forced delivery was unbearably artificial and her gestures absurdly overemphasized. It was if she had been replaced by some school-girl understudy with imprecise emphasis and poor elocution. There was no meaning, no passion in her performance. It was a hollow and meaningless thing and simply bad art.

Even the uneducated paupers in the pit began to lose interest. They quickly became rowdy, talking and whispering amongst themselves and milling about. As the play progressed, harsh hissing and boorish laughter could be heard. The owner of the theatre swore and threw his cigar to the ground in disgust. Terror crept into Dorian's mind. Her performance was dreadful. How could this be happening?

Lady Helena gathered her things and put on her coat briskly, pausing to look Dorian straight in the eyes. "She is a beauty Mr. Gray—but she cannot act. Come let us go."

"I will see the play to its conclusion." Dorian's voice grew bitter. "I am sorry to have wasted your evening. I apologize profusely to you both."

Sage felt helpless. She tried to reassure him. "Dorian, I am quite sure Miss Vane was merely ill. She is certainly very beautiful. Perhaps we will come again on a different night when she is feeling better."

Dorian's voice shook and he appeared quite distraught. "I wish it was an illness, but it seems more than that. She has been entirely changed from the great artist I saw last week. This evening she is but mediocre and commonplace. Please leave me alone for tonight. I must think on this. My heart is completely broken." His face felt hot and flush with embarrassment, so he hid it with his hands and bowed his head.

Lady Helena tried to display some tenderness, but it only came off as pity. "There, there. Maybe the girl was simply nervous. Let us go to the club, Sage." The two swept out of the room together, leaving Dorian alone.

Dorian turned his pale face back towards the stage with a look of indifferent resolve. The play dragged on for what seemed an age. Half of the audience had left. The final act was greeted with nearly empty benches. The very moment the curtain fell, Dorian rushed backstage as quickly as he could. He burst into the back room to find Sibyl seated alone and looking at herself in a mirror. Upon seeing him in the mirror's reflection, her eyes lit with the fire of the sun and a golden radiance poured from her face. Her red lips smiled in a pouting way, as though with a hidden secret. All of the joy mysteriously absent from her performance suddenly flooded back into her gaze.

Sibyl laughed, apparently without any hint of the mortification Dorian keenly felt. "How badly I acted tonight, my Prince Charming."

"Horribly! Are you ill? You must tell me immediately and we will call for a physician. Why did you go on if you felt so poorly?"

Her smile faded slowly. "I suppose it is a form of illness, though not one that can be cured by any simple physician. It is the reason I was so bad tonight and why I will never act well again."