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

Chapter 8 - The Theatre Part 2

Dorian shook his head slowly from side to side. "Then you are ill. You should not perform in such a state. You make yourself and me seem ridiculous. I told you I was bringing my friends by this evening to see you. My friends were bored—I was bored. But what is this you mean by never acting well again?"

Sibyl didn't seem to be listening. She stared into his face before speaking. "Before I knew you, acting was my whole life. It was the reason I lived and the meaning for getting out of bed every morning. I came alive in the many roles I played. The joys of Beatrice and the sorrows of Cordelia were my own. The scenes and the ever-changing stage were my entire world. But then you came into my world! My beautiful love, you freed my soul and you have become my whole life. You are the new reason that I now live. You have taught me what true joy is and that acting is but a hollow sham when compared to the grace and passion of our love. The pale moonlight on this dingy stage is false. The lines I deliver are not my own. They are but a reflection of the depths of reality."

Sibyl moved closer to Dorian until their faces were only a few inches away. "My Prince Charming! You are so much more than these small shadows of life. For the first time, I understood how perfect love can be. The hissing and boos of the audience meant less than nothing to me! Take me away with you, my Prince Charming. Take me away from this horrible stage where passion is but mimicked and affection is as ashes compared to the fiery heat of love burning for you."

Dorian flung himself back and turned his face away from her. "You have killed my love."

Sibyl looked at him unbelievingly and laughed with a nervous titter. She approached him again, touching his hair and grasping at his hand. Dorian drew away from her with a shudder.

His perfect, chiseled jaw hardened as he moved towards the door. "Yes, you have killed my love. It was your acting that stirred my imagination, but now you do not even stir my curiosity. I loved you because you were exceptional. It was your genius while acting on the stage and because you shared my dreams of the great poets of our time. You gave shape to the substance of their art. Now you have thrown it all away. How stupid and shallow of you."

His face turned into a scowl and his eyes flashed with anger. "My God! What a fool I was to love you! How mad I must have been. You are nothing to me now and I will never see you again. Nor will I think of you, or ever mention you again. I wish I had never laid eyes upon your accursed face. I would have made you famous and the world would have worshipped you. You would even have borne my name in time. Now you will be nothing more than a third-rate actress with a pretty face."

She trembled and turned a chalky shade of white. "You are not serious? You can't be. It is an act. Tell me this is all an act."

His tone became sarcastic and his face filled with a bitter grimace. "Acting! Ha, I leave that to you since you do it so well."

A look of sharp pain entered her face and she reached out to him while gazing searchingly into his eyes. But he only thrust her back. "Don't touch me!"

A straggled moan escaped her delicate throat and she wilted to the floor like a trampled flower. "No! Don't leave me. I am sorry I didn't act well. I was only thinking of you the whole time. I will try. Yes, I will do better. I can remember a time before we kissed, before we—came together as one. Kiss me again my love. We are engaged remember? We were to announce the news to everyone. You mustn't leave me. I couldn't bear it. Can't you just forgive me for tonight's mistake? I will work hard to improve and do whatever you say. Please do not be so cruel, I love you more than anything in the world. This is the first time I haven't pleased you. It was foolish and I couldn't help it. Just don't leave me, please don't leave me." Her pleas became inaudible with a sobbing that choked off her voice.

Dorian looked down at her as she crouched on the floor and saw only a wounded creature, like a pitiful wolf cub. But instead of compassion or pity, his perfect lips curled upward into a look of disdain. How absurdly melodramatic and annoying her flowing tears and hiccupping sobs were to him. How had he ever loved a woman such as this? He had ceased to love her entirely.

His voice was unbearably calm and even. "I am going. I can no longer see you anymore. You have disappointed me."

She continued to weep as she stretched her hands out to him imploringly, but made no other reply. Dorian turned sharply on his heel and strode quickly from the room and out of the theatre forever.

When he arrived home, Dorian went straight to his Library to pen a note of apology for wasting the time of Lady Helena and Sage. As he sat down to write, he paused to look at his portrait which he had hung on the wall. His face was full of joy and beauty as ever. With a start, he looked at the wolf cub. It must be his imagination. The wolf seemed much older than the cub had been when it was painted. The eyes were too cunning and the face smiled at him disdainfully. Impossible. He disregarded the thought and bent to compose his letter.