Peg Woffington Part 23

"With alacrity, madam." He laid in a fresh stock of provisions.

Strange it was to see them side by side! _he,_ a Don Quixote, with cordage instead of lines in his mahogany face, and clothes hanging upon him; _she,_ smooth, duck-like, delicious, and bright as an opening rose fresh with dew!

She watched him kindly, archly and demurely; and still plied him, countrywise, with every mortal thing on the table.

But the poet was not a boa-constrictor, and even a boa-constrictor has an end. Hunger satisfied, his next strongest feeling, simple vanity, remained to be contented. As the last morsel went in out came:

"'Bright being, thou whose ra--'"

"No! no!" said she, who fancied herself (and not without reason) the bright being. "Mr. Vane intended them for a surprise."

"As you please, madam;" and the disappointed bore sighed. "But you would have liked them, for the theme inspired me. The kindest, the most generous of women! Don't you agree with me, madam?"

Mabel Vane opened her eyes. "Hardly, sir," laughed she.

"If you knew her as I do."

"I ought to know her better, sir."

"Ay, indeed! Well, madam, now her kindness to me, for instance--a poor devil like me. The expression, I trust, is not disagreeable to you, madam? If so, forgive me, and consider it withdrawn."

"La, sir! civility is so cheap, if you go to that."

"Civility, ma'am? Why, she has saved me from despair--from starvation, perhaps."

"Poor thing! Well, indeed, sir, you looked--you looked--what a shame!

and you a poet."

"From an epitaph to an epic, madam."

At this moment a figure looked in upon them from the garden, but retreated un.o.bserved. It was Sir Charles Pomander, who had slipped away, with the heartless and malicious intention of exposing the husband to the wife, and profiting by her indignation and despair. Seeing Triplet, he made an extemporaneous calculation that so infernal a chatterbox could not be ten minutes in her company without telling her everything, and this would serve his turn very well. He therefore postponed his purpose, and strolled away to a short distance.

Triplet justified the baronet's opinion. Without any sort of sequency he now informed Mrs. Vane that the benevolent lady was to sit to him for her portrait.

Here was a new attention of Ernest's. How good he was, and how wicked and ungrateful she!

"What! are you a painter too?" she inquired.

"From a house front to an historical composition, madam."

"Oh, what a clever man! And so Ernest commissioned you to paint a portrait?"

"No, madam; for that I am indebted to the lady herself."

"The lady herself?"

"Yes, madam; and I expected to find her here. Will you add to your kindness by informing me whether she has arrived? Or she is gone--"

"Who, sir? (Oh, dear! not my portrait! Oh, Ernest!)"

"Who, madam!" cried Triplet; "why, Mrs. Woffington!"

"She is not here," said Mrs. Vane, who remembered all the names perfectly well. "There is one charming lady among our guests, her face took me in a moment; but she is a t.i.tled lady. There is no Mrs.

Woffington among them."

"Strange!" replied Triplet; "she was to be here; and, in fact, that is why I expedited these lines in her honor."

"In _her_ honor, sir?"

"Yes, madam. Allow me:

'Brights being, thou whose radiant brow--'"

"No! no! I don't care to hear them now, for I don't know the lady."

"Well, madam, but at least you have seen her act?"

"Act! you don't mean all this is for an actress?"

_"An_ actress? _The_ actress! And you have never seen her act? What a pleasure you have to come! To see her act is a privilege; but to act with her, as _I_ once did! But she does not remember that, nor shall I remind her, madam," said Triplet sternly. "On that occasion I was hissed, owing to circ.u.mstances which, for the credit of our common nature, I suppress."

"What! are you an actor too? You are everything."

"And it was in a farce of my own, madam, which, by the strangest combination of accidents, was d.a.m.ned!"

"A play-writer? Oh, what clever men there are in the world--in London, at least! He is a play-writer, too. I wonder my husband comes not. Does Mr. Vane--does Mr. Vane admire this actress?" said she, suddenly.

"Mr. Vane, madam, is a gentleman of taste," said he, pompously.

"Well, sir," said the lady, languidly, "she is not here." Triplet took the hint and rose. "Good-by," said she, sweetly; and thank you kindly for your company.

"Triplet, madam--James Triplet, of 10, Hercules Buildings, Lambeth.

Occasional verses, odes, epithalamia, elegies, dedications, squibs, impromptus and hymns executed with spirit, punctuality and secrecy.

Portraits painted, and instruction in declamation, sacred, profane and dramatic. The card, madam" (and he drew it as doth a theatrical fop his rapier) "of him who, to all these qualifications adds a prouder still--that of being,

"Madam,

"Your humble, devoted and grateful servant,

"JAMES TRIPLET."

He bowed in a line from his right shoulder to his left toe, and moved off. But Triplet could not go all at one time out of such company; he was given to return in real life, he had played this trick so often on the stage. He came back, exuberant with grat.i.tude.

"The fact is, madam," said he, "strange as it may appear to you, a kind hand has not so often been held out to me, that I should forget it, especially when that hand is so fair and gracious. May I be permitted, madam--you will impute it to grat.i.tude rather than audacity--I--I--"

(whimper), "madam" (with sudden severity), "I am gone!"

These last words he p.r.o.nounced with the right arm at an angle of forty-five degrees, and the fingers pointing horizontally. The stage had taught him this grace also. In his day, an actor who had three words to say, such as, "My lord's carriage is waiting," came on the stage with the right arm thus elevated, delivered his message in the tones of a falling dynasty, wheeled like a soldier, and retired with the left arm pointing to the sky and the right hand extended behind him like a setter's tail.