“My dear Harry, my dear Basil, you must both congratulate me!” said the boy, throwing off his evening cape with its satin-lined wings, and shaking each of his friends by the hand in turn.  “I have never been so happy.  Of course it is sudden:  all really delightful things are.  And yet it seems to me to be the one thing I have been looking for all my life.”  He was flushed with excitement and pleasure, and looked extraordinarily handsome.

“I hope you will always be very happy, Dorian,” said Hallward, “but I don’t quite forgive you for not having let me know of your engagement.  You let Harry know.”

“And I don’t forgive you for being late for dinner,” broke in Lord [34] Henry, putting his hand on the lad’s shoulder, and smiling as he spoke.  “Come, let us sit down and try what the new chef here is like, and then you will tell us how it all came about.”

“There is really not much to tell,” cried Dorian, as they took their seats at the small round table.  “What happened was simply this.  After I left you yesterday evening, Harry, I had some dinner at that curious little Italian restaurant in Rupert Street, you introduced me to, and went down afterwards to the theatre.  Sibyl was playing Rosalind.  Of course the scenery was dreadful, and the Orlando absurd.  But Sibyl!  You should have seen her!  When she came on in her boy’s dress she was perfectly wonderful.  She wore a moss-colored velvet jerkin with cinnamon sleeves, slim brown cross-gartered hose, a dainty little green cap with a hawk’s feather caught in a jewel, and a hooded cloak lined with dull red.  She had never seemed to me more exquisite.  She had all the delicate grace of that Tanagra figurine that you have in your studio, Basil.  Her hair clustered round her face like dark leaves round a pale rose.  As for her acting—­well, you will see her to-night.  She is simply a born artist.  I sat in the dingy box absolutely enthralled.  I forgot that I was in London and in the nineteenth century.  I was away with my love in a forest that no man had ever seen.  After the performance was over I went behind, and spoke to her.  As we were sitting together, suddenly there came a look into her eyes that I had never seen there before.  My lips moved towards hers.  We kissed each other.  I can’t describe to you what I felt at that moment.  It seemed to me that all my life had been narrowed to one perfect point of rose-colored joy.  She trembled all over, and shook like a white narcissus.  Then she flung herself on her knees and kissed my hands.  I feel that I should not tell you all this, but I can’t help it.  Of course our engagement is a dead secret.  She has not even told her own mother.  I don’t know what my guardians will say.  Lord Radley is sure to be furious.  I don’t care.  I shall be of age in less than a year, and then I can do what I like.  I have been right, Basil, haven’t I, to take my love out of poetry, and to find my wife in Shakespeare’s plays?  Lips that Shakespeare taught to speak have whispered their secret in my ear.  I have had the arms of Rosalind around me, and kissed Juliet on the mouth.”