“Well, he seemed to think they were beyond his means.  By this time the lights were being put out in the theatre, and I had to go.  He wanted me to try some cigars which he strongly recommended.  I declined.  The next night, of course, I arrived at the theatre again.  When he saw me he made me a low bow, and assured me that I was a patron of art.  He was a most offensive brute, though he had an extraordinary passion for Shakespeare.  He told me once, with an air of pride, that his three bankruptcies were entirely due to the poet, whom he insisted on calling ‘The Bard.’  He seemed to think it a distinction.”

“It was a distinction, my dear Dorian,—­a great distinction.  But when did you first speak to Miss Sibyl Vane?”

“The third night.  She had been playing Rosalind.  I could not help going round.  I had thrown her some flowers, and she had looked at me; at least I fancied that she had.  The old Jew was persistent.  He seemed determined to bring me behind, so I consented.  It was curious my not wanting to know her, wasn’t it?”

[28] “No; I don’t think so.”

“My dear Harry, why?”

“I will tell you some other time.  Now I want to know about the girl.”

“Sibyl?  Oh, she was so shy, and so gentle.  There is something of a child about her.  Her eyes opened wide in exquisite wonder when I told her what I thought of her performance, and she seemed quite unconscious of her power.  I think we were both rather nervous.  The old Jew stood grinning at the door-way of the dusty greenroom, making elaborate speeches about us both, while we stood looking at each other like children.  He would insist on calling me ‘My Lord,’ so I had to assure Sibyl that I was not anything of the kind.  She said quite simply to me, ‘You look more like a prince.’”

“Upon my word, Dorian, Miss Sibyl knows how to pay compliments.”

“You don’t understand her, Harry.  She regarded me merely as a person in a play.  She knows nothing of life.  She lives with her mother, a faded tired woman who played Lady Capulet in a sort of magenta dressing-wrapper on the first night, and who looks as if she had seen better days.”

“I know that look.  It always depresses me.”

“The Jew wanted to tell me her history, but I said it did not interest me.”

“You were quite right.  There is always something infinitely mean about other people’s tragedies.”

“Sibyl is the only thing I care about.  What is it to me where she came from?  From her little head to her little feet, she is absolutely and entirely divine.  I go to see her act every night of my life, and every night she is more marvellous.”

“That is the reason, I suppose, that you will never dine with me now.  I thought you must have some curious romance on hand.  You have; but it is not quite what I expected.”

“My dear Harry, we either lunch or sup together every day, and I have been to the Opera with you several times.”