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"Harry," he began, "I'm discovering life. I'm doing everything that you told me to do. I'm in love!"

One afternoon, a month later, Dorian Gray visited Lord Henry. Dorian was excited and his eyes were shining.

"With an actress."

"Who are you in love with?" asked Lord Henry, calmly.

"No, Harry, this is different. She's wonderful! Her name's Sybil Vane, and one day she'll be a very famous actress. She really is extraordinarily clever."

"Oh, everybody's in love with an actress at some time in their lives," said Lord Henry.

Lord Henry listened and smiled. Dorian had discovered an old, dirty theatre in a poor street in London. He had gone in to look for adventure, but had found love, he told Lord Henry. The play had been Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

"Harry! I'll tell you all about her, but you must promise not to laugh."

"My dear boy," said Lord Henry in his lazy voice, "no woman is extraordinarily clever. Women have nothing to say, but they say it beautifully. There are only five women in London who can give you real conversation. But tell me about your wonderful actress. How long have you known her?"

"Very well, my dear Dorian, we'll come and watch your Juliet. But you'll be in love many times, you know -- this is only the beginning."

"That's the reason, I suppose, why you never have dinner with me now," said Lord Henry.

"Romeo was a fat old man with a terrible voice, but Juliet! Oh, Harry, she was about seventeen, with dark brown hair and a face like a flower. She was the loveliest girl that I'd ever seen in my life, and her voice was like music. I love her, Harry. She's everything to me. Every night I go to see her in different plays and she's always wonderful."

"But Harry, you and I see each other every day -- we always have lunch together," said Dorian in surprise. "I have to go and see Sybil in the theatre every night. You and Basil must come with me to see her. Then you can see yourself how wonderful she is. Come tomorrow."

After Dorian had gone, Lord Henry smiled to himself. How amusing it was to watch this young man, he thought. He was very different now from the frightened boy in Basil Hallward's house. He had opened like a flower in the sun, and was learning to enjoy every pleasure in life. "And it is I," thought Lord Henry, "who have taught him how to do this."

When Lord Henry returned home that night, there was a letter for him lying on the table. It told him that Dorian Gray was going to marry Sybil Vane.

At that moment the girl's brother entered the room. He was a heavy, dark young man, not at all like his sister.

Mrs Vane put her thin white hands on her daughter's head. "I'm only happy when I see you in the theatre," she said. "And we are poor. We need the money -- don't forget that. what do we know about this young man? You don't know his real name, or anything about him."

"No, but I call him Prince Charming. He's everything to me. I love him and he loves me. Oh Mother, let me be happy!"

"Mother, Mother, I'm so happy," cried the girl, "and you must be happy too."

"You're too young to think of love," said her mother. She looked at her daughter's lovely face, and tried to warn her of the dangers of love, but the girl did not listen. She was locked in her prison of love.

"I've heard about a gentleman who visits you every night at the theatre," he said to his sister. "Who is he? What does he want?"

"Sybil has me, her mother, you know," said Mrs Vane quietly.

James Vane turned to his mother. "My new life as a sailor will keep me away from England for many years," he said. "But I don't like to leave Sybil alone."

"Oh James, don't be angry with me today," cried Sybil. "You're leaving for Australia tomorrow, and today is your last day. Come for a walk with me in the park. I'll go and get ready." She danced out of the room, and her mother and brother could hear her singing as she ran upstairs.

As they waited for Dorian Gray the next night, Lord Henry and Basil Hallward discussed Sybil Vane. Basil had not been happy at the news of Dorian's marriage plans.

"Then take care of her." James Vane gave his mother a long, hard look. "If that man hurts my sister, I'll find him, and kill him like a dog."

"Why not?" Lord Henry had said coolly. "He'll love her wildly for six months, and then suddenly he'll be in love with another woman. It will be very amusing to watch."

"An actress!" he had cried. "But Dorian is a gentleman, the grandson of Lord Kelso. He can't marry an actress."

Lord Henry smiled. "Ah," he said, "when we are happy, we are always good, but when we are good, we are not always happy."

"Yes," said Dorian happily, "yes, Sybil has changed me. From this moment I shall be good. I'll never listen again, Harry, to your dangerous ideas about life and pleasure."

But although Sybil looked beautiful, her voice sounded unnatural. She spoke Juliet's words, but there was no feeling in them. Her voice was lovely, but it took away all the life from the words People in the theatre began talking loudly, and after half an hour Lord Henry stood up and put on his coat.

But when Dorian arrived and told the story of his love, Basil became a little happier. "You're right," he told Dorian. "The woman that you love must be wonderful. I can see already that she's changed you."

Basil Hallward shook his head at this, but Dorian laughed. "You cut life to pieces with your clever words, Harry."

The theatre was crowded and noisy, but when Sybil Vane appeared, everyone became silent. She was one of the most beautiful girds that Lord Henry had ever seen. "Lovely! Lovely!" he said softly.

"She's very beautiful, Dorian, but she's not an actress," he said. "Let's go."

Dorian did not look at them. "Go away. I want to be alone," he said miserably, and as his friends left, he covered his face with his hands.

"I think that Miss Vane must be ill," added Basil. "We'll come another night."

"I wasn't a very good Juliet tonight," she said, and looked at him with love in her eyes.

When the play came to its painful end, Dorian went to see Sybil.

"You were terrible," said Dorian coldly. "My friends were bored. I was bored. I suppose you were ill."

She did not seem to hear him. "Dorian," she cried, "before I knew you, the theatre was my only life. I thought that it was all true. I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought that they were real. But you've taught me the difference between art and life. How can I pretend to be Juliet -- to feel Juliet's love, when I know now what true love is?"

Dorian turned his face away from her. "But I loved you for your art -- because you were a wonderful actress," he said. His voice was hard. "You have killed my love. Without your art, you are nothing. I never want to see you again."

"Dorian, please don't leave me," she cried. "I love you better than anything in the world. Don't leave me!"

Dorian Gray looked down at her with his beautiful eyes. There was no love or gentleness in his face. "I'm going," he said at last. "I don't wish to be unkind, but I don't want to see you again." Without another word he left her.

He picked up a mirror and looked at his own face, and then looked again at the face in the portrait. Yes, it was different. What did this change mean?

All night he walked through the streets of London. When morning came, he went home. When he entered his house, he saw the portrait of himself that Basil Hallward had painted. There was something different about it, he thought. The face had changed -- there was something unkind, and cruel about the mouth. It was very strange.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted angrily. He pushed her away, and she fell to the floor and lay there like a broken bird.

Sybil's face was white with fear. "You're not serious, are you, Dorian?" she asked. She touched his arm with her small, gentle hand.

Suddenly he remembered his wish in Basil Hallward's house…his wish that he could stay young, but the picture could grow old. The idea was impossible, of course. But why did the face in the picture have that cruel, unkind mouth?

Cruel! Had he been cruel to Sybil Vane? He remembered her white, unhappy face as she lay at his feet. But she had hurt him, too. No, Sybil Vane was nothing to him now.

But the picture watched him, with its beautiful face and its cruel smile. It had taught him to love his own beauty. Would it also teach him to hate his own heart, his own soul? No, he would go back to Sybil Vane. He would marry her, try to love her again. Poor child! How cruel he had been to her! They would be happy together.

He covered the picture and quickly left the room.