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CHARLES SYLVESTER.
A year or two ago the girl turned up again--walked into my studio, and wanted to sit to me. As it happened I could have used her very well.
Just as I had given her a drink who should march in too, but my wife.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
The devil.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
I _said_ my wife--but--
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Yes, go on.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
She recognised my visitor in a moment from the photograph--abused her, insulted me, and raised a royal row. The girl cleared out like a shot, and I pledge you my word I have never seen her since, but from that hour to this not a day pa.s.ses without Mrs. Sylvester making some allusion to the incident. I am the most moral man alive, and I'm watched and suspected as if I were a criminal.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
We must see more of each other than we have of late. When I work in your studio we shall be company for each other.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
I shall be very glad. Well, I'll be off, now. See you to-morrow then?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
To-morrow! Au revoir, dear boy.
(_Exit_ SYLVESTER.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Poor old Sylvester! Had no idea Mrs. Sylvester was such a termagant. I must cheer him up a bit. So there was a girl, was there, and Mrs.
Sylvester is jealous of her? Wonder who she was! Nice girl I daresay--Sylvester's taste was always good excepting when he married.
Where is Bob with my model?--time he was back! (_Goes to window_.) There goes Sylvester--funny thing you can always tell a married man by his walk. There is a solidity about it--a sort of resignation. (_Turns looking off the other way_.) And here comes a pretty girl.--What a pretty girl--Funny thing you can always tell a pretty girl by her walk.
There is a consciousness about it--a thanksgiving. She is stopping here. Lovely woman stopping here!
(_Throws up window, and leans out more and more till gradually only a small section of his legs remain on the stage_)
ROSALINE (_off_).
Is this Mr. Tempenny's studio?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It is. I am Mr. Tempenny. Come up do.
ROSALINE.
No kid?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Not yet--I am recently married.
ROSALINE.
I mean you are really Mr. Tempenny.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Really and truly. (_Withdraws from window, wreathed in smiles_.) How do I look? (_Smoothes his hair before mirror_.) Perhaps she is a buyer--I had better appear busy--or inspired. (_Seats himself and adopts a far-away engrossed expression_.) "Rembrandt Tempenny at Home."
_Knock at door. Enter_ ROSALINE.
ROSALINE.
May I come in?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Enter pray. An idea has struck me. May I beg you to sit down a moment,--In a moment I shall be at your service.
ROSALINE _sits_. REMBRANDT TEMPENNY _stares raptly before him as if lost in composition. (Business.) He starts up and rushes to small canvas, making violent sketch upon it. Then brushes his hand across his brow, and turns to her_.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I dared not lose it--my idea! Forgive me--I have it down now, it is saved. What can I do for you?
ROSALINE.
Mr. Addison sent me. He said you wanted a model.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Oh--you are Rosaline?
ROSALINE.
You have guessed it in once. He could not come back with me, so he sent me here alone.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Oh!
