A Puzzled Painter
Written in Collaboration With the Late Sir Augustus Harris
Cast.
Rembrandt Tempenny, an Artist.
MRS. TEMPENNY, his Wife.
CHARLES SYLVESTER, an Artist.
MRS. SYLVESTER, his Wife.
ROSALINE, a Model.
HENRICH SCHERCL, an Art Dealer.
ROBERT ADDISON, a Sporting Man.
SARAH ANN, a Maid-of-all-Work.
SUSAN, Parlourmaid at the Tempenny’s.
GROGGINS, a Sheriff’s Officer.
A Puzzled Painter
Act I
(Scene I. Tempenny’s Studio Doors R.L. and in Flat. As Curtain Rises a Knocking Is Heard at D.R.)
MRS. TEMPENNY (off).
Rembrandt—Rembrandt!
(Door opens, enter MRS. TEMPENNY; followed by MRS. SYLVESTER.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
He isn’t here. Come in, dear; I am sure he will be pleased to see you—we will wait.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
My husband hates to be disturbed in his studio. He says he can never work again all day.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Artists are so different; Mr. Sylvester is more highly strung than Rembrandt, I sometimes think. Rembrandt likes to see his friends in his studio. I wonder where he has gone.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Gone to have a drink, I daresay.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Adelaide!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
He does drink, doesn’t he—when he’s thirsty anyhow? And artists are so often thirsty. Charles is often thirsty. He says it is a characteristic feature of the artistic temperament. Ah! my dear.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Why that sigh?
MRS. SYLVESTER (sighing again).
Heigh ho!
MRS. TEMPENNY (affectionately).
Adelaide?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Eugenia!
(They touch each other’s hands sympathetically.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Aren’t you happy, Adelaide?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I am married to an artist, Euna! I wouldn’t say as much to anybody else, but we were girls at school together.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
But, dear Addie, everybody knows you are married to an artist.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I mean I would not say to anybody else that I am not entirely happy.
MRS. TEMPENNY (enthusiastically).
Do tell me all about it.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I am jealous.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Of whom?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Oh no one—of everybody; of my husband’s past, which I know—of his life to-day, which is too circumspect to be sincere.
MRS. TEMPENNY (with misgiving).
But—but Rembrandt’s life is also circumspect.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Poor child.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
You pity me?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Horribly. To be married to a painter—what a fate! To have a husband who is shut up alone all day with a creature who—who wears—
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Rembrandt’s models do—.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Wear—?
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Plenty!
MRS. SYLVESTER (gloomily).
Clothes sometimes cover a multitude of sins. They are no guarantee. Rosaline wore them!
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Rosaline?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
You have not heard of Rosaline?
MRS. TEMPENNY.
No. A model?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
A serpent!
MRS. TEMPENNY.
The wretch. Pretty of course?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Serpents are always pretty. One day, not long after we were married, I came across her photograph—I was tidying up an old desk of Charles’, a photo, my dear, with an inscription that left no doubt what their relations had been. I tore it up before his face; and for a time, excepting for the girlish illusions he had shattered, that was an end of the matter.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
But only for a time?
MRS. SYLVESTER (impressively).
Two years ago I went into his studio, and found her there.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Horrible.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
You may well say so. She was sitting on a table drinking brandy and soda as bold as brass. Of course he swore that he needed her for a picture he was going to work on—and, I don’t know, perhaps it was true. Still considering what had been, her presence there was an outrage, and I shall never forget the quarrel there was between Charles and me. That was the last I have seen of Rosaline—she went flying.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
And was it the last that Mr. Sylvester has seen of her?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
So far as I know. But there is always the lurking, horrid doubt. You know now why I am not the light-hearted girl you remember, and why I distrust artists as a class.
Pause.
MRS. TEMPENNY (meditatively).
I don’t see why you should distrust Mr. Tempenny because Mr. Sylvester is not steady.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Are you quite contented?
MRS. TEMPENNY.
No—we are too hard up, but I believe Rembrandt loves me, and I love him.
MRS. SYLVESTER (heavily).
Poor child.
(Enter REMBRANDT TEMPENNY door in flat. He wears long hair, and a brown velveteen jacket, and is smoking a short pipe.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Eugenia? And Mrs. Sylvester? Why, bless my soul, how nice, what a surprise! Don’t move—don’t. (Stands peering at them with his hands over his eyes.) What a charming effect of light on your profile, Mrs. Sylvester—how rich—how transcendental! Glorious! (Comes down.) Well, well, well, and so you ladies have come to pay me a visit. Can I offer you anything?
MRS. TEMPENNY.
I called on Mrs. Tempenny to inquire whether you would dine with us to-night, and she said she could not answer without consulting you.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
You have no engagement, Rembrandt?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I am quite at liberty, Eugenia, quite. I shall be most pleased and delighted. (Aside.) Another confoundedly dull evening, I know! (Aloud.) Sylvester is well?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Sylvester is always well.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Happy Sylvester! Myself, I am a wreck.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
I want some money, Rembrandt.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (disconcerted.)
Eh? Oh! (To MRS. SYLVESTER.) And working hard I have no doubt.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I believe so—he is out all day.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Admirable—what industry!
MRS. TEMPENNY.
(Aside to REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.) Rembrandt, I want some money—have you got a couple of pounds you can let me have?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (affecting not to hear).
The hardest working people under the sun are artists, I always say so. Hard worked—hard worked! (Fills his pipe).
MRS. SYLVESTER.
May I look round your studio, Mr. Tempenny?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (waving his hand).
Charmed, positively!
(MRS. SYLVESTER moves up.)
MRS. TEMPENNY (insistently).
Rembrandt, all the neighbourhood knows the butcher summoned us, and none of the tradespeople will serve us with anything unless we pay cash.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well, we’re going out to dinner.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Oh, you drive me wild with your improvident, Bohemian ways. There’s to-morrow.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Sufficient for the day is the dinner thereof. Don’t be greedy.
MRS. SYLVESTER (looking round).
You have sold most of your canvasses, I see, Mr. Tempenny.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
I thought she wouldn’t find the gallery extensive, I must really do something to-day, I must indeed! (Aloud.) Sold? Yes, yes. I am starting on a fresh commission now. There’s a little sketch up there you may fancy;—a mere impression, but full of tenderness, I think, and rapture.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Rapture?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It is the newest word by which we explain the inexplicable. “Rapture!” It says everything, does it not?
MRS. SYLVESTER (vaguely).
Yes—yes, indeed.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
I made it up myself on the spot.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
(Laying her hand on his arm earnestly). Rembrandt—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Yes, dear, I know what you’re going to say. The other tradespeople know we haven’t paid the butcher and you want two pounds. I’ll give it you this evening—(Aside.) If I can borrow it.
MRS. SYLVESTER (coming down).
Then we shall see you this evening at seven sharp, Mr. Tempenny? I am going to take Eugenia round to the house with me now, to spend the afternoon. You’ll find her there when you come.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Good. (Aside.) I wish they’d go! (Aloud.) You don’t mean to run away yet?
MRS. SYLVESTER (doubtfully).
I think so.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (with alacrity).
Well, if you really must—
(Opens door D.F.)
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Till seven o’clock.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Till seven.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Au revoir, dear. (Aside to him.) You won’t forget the—?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Aside to MRS. TEMPENNY.) The two pounds, and the butcher; I won’t forget ’em. I only hope the butcher may forget me.
(Exit MRS. SYLVESTER.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
By-bye, sweetheart.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Ta, ta, Duckie.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Don’t do too much—remember your precious health.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
All right, my love.
MRS. TEMPENNY (blowing a kiss).
There.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (blowing a kiss).
There.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
My own darling husband!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
My angel.
(Exit MRS. TEMPENNY.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (with a deep sigh of relief).
Thank heaven! (Sinks into armchair, and puts his feet on the mantelpiece) The corner is getting tight, Rembrandt. This sort of thing won’t boil the pot. It won’t, sonny, I assure you! Where’s the sketch of my magnum opus. ‘Pon my word, I haven’t seen the thing for a month or more. (Gets up and rummages in a portfolio.) Ah, here we have it! (Holds up and contemplates a small charcoal sketch.) “Susannah before the Elders” beautiful! composition charming! Rembrandt, old pal,—I congratulate you! But where’s the picture of it? “Oh where, and oh where!” Rembrandt, you’re developing into a thorough-paced loafer. You always had a talent that way, but of late you’ve broken your own record. I’ll turn over a new leaf; I will, I’ll be a new man. Why not? We’ve the new woman; why not the new man? Excellent idea. Rembrandt Tempenny, the new man—the coming man—by George the GREAT man! I’m in earnest, I’m in a fever. I bubble over with noble resolutions. I wish the tradespeople didn’t want cash—tradespeople who want cash are so damping to noble resolutions!
(Gets out Easel and canvas, and takes off coat.)
(Door in Flat is kicked open. Enter ROBERT ADDISON.)
ROBERT ADDISON.
Hullo!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Hullo!
ROBERT ADDISON.
How are you, old chap?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I’m the new man.
ROBERT ADDISON.
The devil you are! What does it feel like?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Unfamiliar—like somebody’s else’s boots. I say, dear boy, can you lend me a couple of thick ‘uns.
ROBERT ADDISON.
Eh?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It’s for the tradespeople.
ROBERT ADDISON.
Oh really—on principle you know—I never pay tradespeople.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well, not to put too fine a point upon it, it’s for my wife.
ROBERT ADDISON.
I warned you not to marry. Now you see how right I was—she wants two thick ‘uns.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I know it’s rough on you.
ROBERT ADDISON.
It is. I’m a sociable chap by nature, and I’m rapidly being left without a friend to bless myself with.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I don’t grasp!
ROBERT ADDISON.
They all borrow my money, and then they say they’re out the next time I call.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I have got a big thing on, only temporarily I’m in a hole.
ROBERT ADDISON.
I never knew a fellow in a hole who hadn’t a big thing on. What is it?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
The hole?
ROBERT ADDISON.
No, the big thing—the stable tip?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It’s nothing to do with the turf. Look here, Schercl—you know Schercl?
ROBERT ADDISON.
I know him.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
He gave me a commission for a picture six weeks ago; he’s going to pay three hundred for it. He advanced a century when I accepted the offer.
ROBERT ADDISON.
They are wonderful terms, Tempenny, for you.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Seems rather funny, doesn’t it,—but it’s a fact. “Nobody more astonished than the striker,” I confess.
ROBERT ADDIS ON.
Well, where’s the picture?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Turning round the big blank canvas). There!
ROBERT ADDISON (with a whistle).
Oh my sainted mother! How does Schercl like it?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It’s good work, isn’t it? Fine colour and tone! How do the harmonies strike you—correct?
ROBERT ADDISON.
Unbosom, what does it mean?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Dear boy, it means it was a royal order, and that I’ve been on the royal loaf on the strength of it; and, now that I repent me, I haven’t got a model.
ROBERT ADDISON.
No model?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
The subject is to be Susannah—Susannah before the Elders. You know the kind of thing—(whispers).
ROBERT ADDISON.
Yes, of course, and I suppose—? (whispers).
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Yes, and—(touches his arms and chest, signifying a fine woman—whispers).
ROBERT ADDISON.
Exactly. I think I can recommend the very model you want.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
You? Where did you meet her—on a racecourse?
ROBERT ADDISON.
I know her—and she’s worth backing.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
My dear friend, you have saved me! Where is she?
ROBERT ADDISON.
I’ll look her up.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
To-day?
ROBERT ADDISON.
Now if you like. Her name is Rosaline, and she’s a ripper.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
“Rosaline the Ripper,” Robert, fetch her. No wait a moment, I can’t do the picture here; I daren’t.
ROBERT ADDISON.
Why not?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well, you see, my wife wouldn’t approve, and I blush to say that in the exuberance of early matrimony I encouraged her in an inconvenient habit of running into my studio at all hours. I’ll have to work in a pal’s.
ROBERT ADDISON.
All right, I’ll send her there.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well, you might bring her now, if you can, and I’ll arrange the sittings with her. Does she hang out in the neighbourhood?
ROBERT ADDISON.
Over a coffee-shop in Golden Street.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Go! And I’ll stand you a swagger supper when the picture’s done, and Schercl parts. By the way—
ROBERT ADDISON.
Yes?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Touching the two quid?
ROBERT ADDISON (giving the money).
Here you are.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I do touch ’em. Ecstasy! Bob, you’re a brick; now cut along and get back with the damsel sharp. (Knock heard at D.F.) Hullo, whom have we here? Come in. (Knock repeated.) Come in. (Knock again.) Come in, you fat-headed, lop-sided, splay-footed, bandy-legged jay; come in!
(Enter SCHERCL).
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
Schercl! Good Lord! He’s come to see the work.
ROBERT ADDISON.
(Aside to REMBRANDT TEMPENNY). I’m off.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Aside to ROBERT ADDISON). No, I say, Bob, wait and see me through it.
ROBERT ADDISON.
Rosaline may go out—I must hurry. See you again in half an hour.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Aside to ROBERT ADDISON). What shall I do?
ROBERT ADDISON.
(Aside to REMBRANDT TEMPENNY). Lie! Ta-ta. I say—! You don’t think it possible old Schercl has made a mistake and taken you for Tempenny the R.A.?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (staggered).
What!!
ROBERT ADDISON.
It would explain the terms, that’s all, dear boy. Au revoir. (Exit ROBERT ADDISON D.F.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
Good Lord! (Aloud, blandly). My dear Mr. Schercl, this is a pleasure indeed.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I do not know dat it is a great bleasure, but pusiness must be attended to, hein? Vell, my friendt, and how is the bicture, eh! Let us see how it has brogressed.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
The picture is going well—well, very well,—excellently. I am a modest man—
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Humph! (Aside.) This is a very boor blace for zo famous a bainter. I do not understand it! But I have certainly done goot business mid him!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (disconcerted).
I say I am a modest man, Mr. Schercl, but I feel safe in declaring that you will be satisfied with your bargain.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
“Bargain?” I do not tink dat ven I pay tree hundred bounds for a bicture it should be called a “pargain.” Tree hundred bounds is very large brice; I shall have not made a pargain.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Er—quite so. You misunderstand me. I should have said your “contract”—you will be satisfied with your contract.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
If you should have said “gontract,” vy did you say “Pargain.” Vell, vell, let us see the bicture.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(With a desperate attempt to throw enthusiasm in his voice.) It is the best work I have done. I look to “Susannah” to advance my position enormously. People will talk about “Susannah.” It is—er—full of rapture.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
“Rapture?” Vat is “Rapture?”
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
You know what “rapture” is. It is the term best understood by the movement of to-day. It is our watchword, our ideal. “Rapture!”
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Puzzled, but not wishing to appear ignorant.) Oh “Rapture,” I did not understand you. Of course I know what rapture is.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Of course you do. Well, “Susannah” brims over with it.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Goot, goot.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It is the very apotheosis of rapture.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I gongratulate you.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It exudes with rapture.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Is dat so?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It is bathed in rapture. (Aside.) I can’t go on much longer.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Now show it to me.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (with feigned surprise).
Show it to you? I can’t show it to you—it isn’t here.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Vat is dat you say? Not here?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Certainly not. I am working on it in a friend’s studio, not my own. The light here is not nearly good enough for a work like that.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You have always found it goot enough, I pelieve?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (with enthusiasm).
But not for “Susannah”—not nearly good enough for “Susannah,” “Susannah” demands so much; she is exacting—she must be humoured.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Vell, I am very disappointed; I came expressly to see how you had brogressed. Will you make me an abbointment?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Certainly I will. I will write you to-morrow. I am anxious to have your opinion.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Who is the friend in whose studio you vork?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Eh? In Mr. Sylvester’s—Charles Sylvester. You should hear him talk about it. By Jove, he does think a lot of it. I blush to repeat what he says. He considers it magnificent.
(Enter SYLVESTER.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Afternoon, Rembrandt. Ah, Mr. Schercl, how-d’ye do.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Sylvester himself—the devil. (Aloud.) Dear old man, we were talking of you! I was just telling Mr. Schercl what you are kind enough to say of “Susannah.”
(Kicks him aside.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You think it goot, Mr. Sylvester, yes?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
He thinks it superb, so far as it has gone.
(Kicks him again.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
What’s that? Who is “Susannah?”
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
“Who is Susannah!” (With a sickly laugh.) What a chap to chaff you are. “Who is Susannah?” Ha, ha, ha.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
But in pusiness I do not like the chokes. Let us be serious if you please. What is your opinion, Mr. Sylvester, of the vork?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (desperately).
Yes, I quite agree with you, Mr. Schercl, I quite agree—there is a time for all things. Tell Mr. Schercl what you think of it, Charlie, do.
(Kicks him savagely.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER (aside to TEMPENNY).
You’ll break my ankle directly, hang you. What do you want?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside to SYLVESTER).
Intelligence. I’ll break your neck in another minute, you born fool! (Aloud suavely.) Mr. Schercl is naturally anxious to hear how the picture he had given me a commission for is getting along. I was telling him how much you think of it but he would like to hear your views from your own mouth.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Oh—oh!—now I know what you’re talking about! Well, I have a very high opinion of the work indeed, Mr. Schercl—a very high opinion. (Aside to TEMPENNY.) What’s the subject?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside to SYLVESTER).
“Susannah before the Elders”—pitch it strong.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
The conception of Susannah, and in fact the entire treatment if I may say so, is bold in the extreme. He makes a school, our friend here. You will be surprised when you see the work, and impressed.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Vell, we will make the abbointment soon, Mr. Tempenny. I am sorry I could not see it to-day. So I shall be imbressed? That is goot. Gootday, gentlemen. We will make the abbointment very soon.
(Exit SCHERCL.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Calling after him from open door.) Mind the bottom step, it’s awkward. Got it?
HENRICH SCHERCL (off).
It is so dark your staircase.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Yes, it is dark, isn’t it? Good afternoon. (Closes door.)(To SYLVESTER.) Phew! You couldn’t have arrived at a worse time.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Thanks.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I don’t mean to be inhospitable, but the ice was thin.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Have you done anything to “Susannah?”
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Not a stroke, but I commence to-morrow in earnest. I’ve a model coming this afternoon, and if you’ll let me use your studio, I shall knock in enough in a week for old Schercl to see when he calls again.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Why do you want my studio—what’s the matter with this?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well, the fact is my wife is always popping in here, and if she found me with a model posed as Susannah she’d go into hysterics. You understand me?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Understand you. I’m a married man.
(TEMPENNY looks at him silently, and then puts out his hand. SYLVESTER grasps it.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I don’t want to gush, but—I feel for you, old chap.
CHARLES SYLVESTER (gratefully).
I know—I know.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (offering pouch).
Smoke?
CHARLES SYLVESTER (producing pipe).
Thanks.
(They fill their pipes without speaking and puff sympathetically.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Not but what she is a good sort—I don’t want to say anything against her.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Of course not.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
But—I suppose she’s too fond of me.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It’s a way wives have—they repay the superabundance of your devotion during the courtship.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Exactly. She’s jealous.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Of whom?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Of nobody—of everyone. Of my past, which was rather more decent than most fellows—of my life to-day, which is a pattern for a County Councillor.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Poor beggar.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
You’re sorry for me?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Devilishly. To be married to a jealous woman!—what a fate.
CHARLES SYLVESTER (with a groan).
Ah! Tempenny, there was a girl I used to know when I was a bachelor—she was a model. My wife found her likeness one day after we were married. A likeness, nothing more—I thought I had destroyed it. Well, if you’d have heard the ructions she made; you’d have thought she’d found a harem.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Ah!
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 passes 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!
ROSALINE.
What do you think of me?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I think you a charming young lady.
ROSALINE.
Then what is the matter?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well, I thought you were somebody else, that is all. So you are Rosaline.
ROSALINE.
You keep telling me I am Rosaline—I know I am. The question is how do I do?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
How do you do?
ROSALINE.
You misunderstand me. The question is how do I suit you?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Quite so—you bring me to the point. You suit me entirely. Mr. Addison perhaps explained to you the subject of my picture?
ROSALINE.
“Susannah.” Susannah is a very ugly name—.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
But she will be a very pretty girl, won’t she?
ROSALINE.
Oh, go away with you.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Humour, only my humour! You musn’t think any familiarity was intended. I am not that sort of man at all.
ROSALINE.
No?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Not a bit. As I told you out of the window, I’m married.
ROSALINE.
Well, I am sorry to hear it.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Now you are flattering me—now I must say, “go away with you.”
ROSALINE.
I am sorry to hear it because I prefer sitting to single artists. Wives sometimes make rumpuses.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Oh, you have found that?
ROSALINE.
I have indeed. I shall never forget one of my experiences as long as I live.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Really? You interest me.
ROSALINE (sentimentally).
I loved a man with all my soul, and he loved me. He married! No, you must not blame him for it—he was weak, and the temptation came. “To err is human,”—he married. Oh, my heart! (She presses her hand to her side.) Forgive me while I shed a tear.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Shed two.
ROSALINE.
I forgave him; I struggled to subdue the rage within me. I forgave him, and went to see him again. I had conquered my scorn—my better nature had triumphed—I went to him with all the old tenderness that I had lavished on him in the days gone by. He was startled, even cold, but still I feel I should have won him back to me had not something happened.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Something so often happens. It is an aggravating way of something.
ROSALINE.
His wife came between us. All was over.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Designing wretch!
ROSALINE.
I have never seen him since; I have banished his image from my mind. But that time has left its mark on me for ever. It transformed a simple credulous girl into a hardened worldly woman. I shall never feel a liking for wives again.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
One cannot blame you.
ROSALINE.
I felt you would say that. (Presses her handkerchief to her eyes.) It was cruel.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
But in my case you will not be troubled by my wife. The sittings won’t take place here, and so she will not see you.
ROSALINE.
How is that?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well, it is very odd, but Mrs. Tempenny has the same objection to models that you have to wives. It is ridiculous, in fact it is wicked of her, but I find it best to humour her prejudices. Will you go to-morrow to Sycamore Place, Number five?
ROSALINE.
I’ll be there—on one condition. No wives, or I throw up the job.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (alarmed).
For Heaven’s sake don’t talk of doing that—my whole life hangs on the picture. If you don’t sit to me I’m a ruined man. Rosaline, I swear to you no wives shall cross your path.
MRS. TEMPENNY (off).
Rembrandt, Rembrandt.
ROSALINE.
Who’s that?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Mrs. Tempenny, but I won’t let her in.
ROSALINE (angrily).
Wives already!—Everywhere—wives.
MRS. TEMPENNY (off).
Rembrandt, I must see you. Where are you—quick!
ROSALINE.
Here, I know the pattern of this! Let me go!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (alarmed).
No. No. I’ll get rid of her. (Runs to window, and leans out—calling.) Don’t wait, my dear. I’m busy. I’ll be with you soon.
ROSALINE (contemptuously).
Why, you’re scared out of your life of her I can see! I have had enough of this,—I don’t want the job. (As if to go.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Leaving window and running back to her). I tell you if you don’t sit to me I’m a ruined man. Rosaline, I implore you!
MRS. TEMPENNY (off).
I am coming up at once.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (rushing to window again).
On no account, my darling, I can’t be disturbed.
ROSALINE.
I’m off. Ta-ta.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (back to her again).
You shan’t go—I’ll lock you in first. There! (Locks door, and takes out key.)
MRS. TEMPENNY (off).
Rembrandt, I must come up. Something is the matter.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
No, no, no. Go home, and see the tradespeople, catch! (Takes out the two sovereigns, and runs to window again: in his excitement he throws with the wrong hand—throwing out key.) Good Lord! I’ve thrown her the key. (Leans out of the window.) She is coming upstairs. Skip inside there till she goes. Hurry! (Motions ROSALINE off R.)
ROSALINE (scornfully).
Wives, wives, wives!
(Exit Rosaline.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Rembrandt! Why did you keep me waiting—there’s a sheriff’s officer on his way here with a warrant. He has been at the house, and the servant ran round to Sylvester’s to tell me. You must escape.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Escape?
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Fly!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I can’t fly—I am not built for flying.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Then you must hide.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Where?
MRS. TEMPENNY.
(Pointing to room where Rosaline is concealed.) There!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
No, no, Hark!
(Very heavy steps are heard ascending stairs.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I hear a footfall.
MRS. TEMPENNY (in terror).
Hide yourself—quick.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (in terror).
I can’t.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Why not?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (loftily).
A hero never hides. Ah, I have it. I’ll jump from the window.
(Struggles into his coat and hat.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
There is the conservatory underneath.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I’ll jump clear of it. Don’t let him in for a minute.
(He plants a lay-figure in front of canvas, with its back to door in flat, then proceeds to dress it up to resemble himself at work. Brush in hand, etc.)
GROGGINS (off).
MR. Tempenny!
(Knocks at door.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Who’s there?
(She goes to door, half opening it, so that GROGGINS has a partial view of lay-figure.)
GROGGINS.
I have a warrant here for Mr. Rembrandt Tempenny—matter of forty pun’.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Sh! He is painting.
GROGGINS.
I can’t help whether he’s painting or not, marm. The question is whether he is paying or not.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Man, my husband cannot be disturbed. Don’t you see?—he is inspired.
GROGGINS.
Well, he’ll be in—Wandsworth if he don’t part.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Sh! talk softly. Your voice will jar upon him.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
Now for it. (At window.) One—two—three—I don’t like the look of that glass-house much.
(Hesitates).
GROGGINS (decisively).
I must come in, marm—out of the way if you please.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
Oh! It’s now or never.
(Jumps out. A tremendous crash of broken glass is heard.)
MRS. TEMPENNY (with a shriek).
Ah!
GROGGINS (pushing her aside).
What’s that? (Aside.) Oh, there he is. (Aloud.) Here you Mr. Tempenny, sir, I’ve a warrant ’ere on a judgment summons.—Suit of Cole the butcher. (Addressing lay-figure.) Do you pay up, or come along o’ me?
MRS. TEMPENNY (at window—aside).
He’s picked himself up—he waves his hand—all is well.
GROGGINS.
Which is it, sir? I allus likes to do business pleasant, only you must make up your mind, you know. Pay up, or lock up—take your choice.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
(At window. Excitedly aside.) He disappears—he’s lost to view—the danger’s past.
GROGGINS.
Well, if you won’t speak, you won’t, of course! I’ve done my ’umble best to do my dooty affable, and since you’re sulky, why—(Going up to lay-figure) Mr. Rembrandt Tempenny, I’ve a warrant for your arrest.
(He slaps the lay-figure on the shoulder, it collapses with a crash).
GROGGINS (falling back in terror).
Got ’em again, as I’m a sinner!
(MRS. TEMPENNY runs to D.F. as if to go. ROSALINE half opens R.D. and pops her head out with an ejaculation.)
Act drop, quick.
Act II
Scene — Sylvester’s Studio. (The Next Day.) Doors R. and L. At Back Cupboard. Tempenny Discovered Painting, Rosaline Posed
ROSALINE.
I’m getting tired.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Sh! (goes on working frenziedly).
ROSALINE.
I say I’m getting tired.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Wait a minute, and you shall rest. There! now you can move if you like.
ROSALINE (stretching herself).
Thank goodness. Let us look! (Looks at canvas.) Oh!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
What do you think of it?
ROSALINE.
Not much.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Ah, that shows your profound ignorance of the School. It promises to be a superb example. (Contemplates it sideways.) Exquisite!
ROSALINE.
I say, where is your friend?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Who?
ROSALINE.
Didn’t you say this studio belonged to a friend of yours?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Oh yes; he hasn’t come yet. I expect he will be here this afternoon.
ROSALINE.
What’s this? (picking up Mandarin’s Wig.) One of his props?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
That? That is a Mandarin’s wig. Yes, of course it is one of his props. He has just been engaged on a great work: “The Decapitation of a Mandarin after a Chinese Reverse.” The gentleman who sat for the Mandarin wore that wig.
ROSALINE.
What a funny subject to choose.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Rather playful, isn’t it? He likes ’em like that. That’s his forte.
ROSALINE.
What is his name—do I know him?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Charlie Sylvester; and a rattling good chap he is, let me tell you.
ROSALINE (with a shriek).
Oh, my heart! This is fate!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (alarmed.)
I beg your pardon? Don’t go off like that. What’s the matter?
ROSALINE.
It is He—He who—! Oh, I am going to faint.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
No,—no, for goodness’ sake, don’t do that. What do you mean by “he?” Here, I say, compose yourself.
ROSALINE.
It is the man I love. The finger of Fate is in it. Where is he? Bring him to me! Charlie, my own!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (very flustered).
Oh I say—look here, you know—? (Aside.) This is the devil and all—Charlie will never forgive me! (Aloud.) My dear good girl, he isn’t your “own,” I assure you he isn’t. There is a Mrs. Sylvester, as you know very well. (Aside.) If he comes in and finds her here, there’s an end of all my sittings. What a piece of infernal luck to be sure!
ROSALINE (resolutely).
Where is he?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (sullenly).
I don’t know—I suppose he is at home.
ROSALINE.
Fetch him then—let me see his dear face again.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
What???
ROSALINE.
Bring him to me—now, this instant! We have been divided too long already.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
You have, have you?
ROSALINE.
Far, far too long.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
I must humour her. (Aloud.) Well, perhaps you have, on second thoughts. Yes, it is a long time.
ROSALINE.
I have never forgotten him. I have always treasured his memory in my soul.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (soothingly).
That was very nice of you. You are a very nice girl—I saw it at once.
ROSALINE.
He used to say that—he used to call me his “Toppett.”
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
His little “Toppett?” It is a pretty name, and I am sure he will be delighted to find you here, when he comes. It will be a surprise for him, won’t it; quite a surprise! (Aside.) A perfect devil of a surprise!
ROSALINE.
For all he knows I might be dead—dead with the violets blooming over my tomb.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Yes, yes,—buttercups and daisies. (Aside.) I shall get the giddy push from here when he does come; I see it sticking out a foot. (Aloud.) I say, Poppett—I mean “Rosaline,” do you feel equal to going on with the sitting till he arrives?
ROSALINE (passively).
As you please—I must live.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside.)
It is doubtful whether Sylvester will see it in the same light. (Aloud.) Well, then, suppose you take up your position again.
(He poses her with much difficulty, as each time he places her arms in the required attitude, she moves to wipe away a tear).
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
There, now we’ve got it at last. (He goes back to the easel, and commences to work).
ROSALINE.
(Bursting into sobs, and collapsing altogether.) Boo—hoo—hoo!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (despairingly).
Oh, great Jupiter! This is too much! Can’t you contain your emotion? I know it is very praiseworthy, but can’t you bottle it up? How on earth am I to paint you while you keep going on like this.
(The street-door bell rings).
ROSALINE (joyously).
He! (She clasps her hands and listens.) My heart tells me so!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (disagreeably).
It ain’t he—because he never rings. So your heart’s told you a lie.
MRS. SYLVESTER (off).
Mr. Sylvester—is he in? Not in? What do you mean?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Snakes!—it’s his Missus.
ROSALINE (passionately).
Another wife?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
No, it is the same one—do you think he is the Grand Mogul?—but she will be enough for you if she finds you here, and for me too!
ROSALINE.
I do not fear her. I am doing no harm—I am your Model, brought here by you.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (in terror).
Now look here, you know, don’t say that; I won’t be mixed up in it! I tell you I’ll have nothing to do with the matter! I didn’t know who you were, or I wouldn’t have brought you within a hundred miles of the place. Hark.
MRS. SYLVESTER (off).
I will wait in his studio till he comes. He ought to have been here long ago.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (in terror).
Ought he! I won’t be seen here—I can’t. She is a friend of my wife’s. I won’t be found in your company. I’m a moral man, and she knows you.
ROSALINE (indignantly).
What?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Here, hi, I will be a lay-figure. By George, I’ve got it—I will be the Mandarin, see!
(He disguises himself with Rosaline’s assistance as a Mandarin, and sits cross-legged at back, wagging his head.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
How is that?
ROSALINE.
Beautiful. Hush!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Am I sufficiently impregnated with the Chinese sentiment?
ROSALINE.
I don’t know what you mean. Sh! Here she is.
(Enter MRS. SYLVESTER L.)
MRS. SYLVESTER (aside).
A young woman—who is this?
ROSALINE.
Good morning, madam. Who do you wish to see?
MRS. SYLVESTER (with a start).
Can I be deceived? Is it possible you are the—ahem—the person I take you for?
ROSALINE.
I really don’t know who you take me for. My name is Rosaline, and I’m a model.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I knew it! How dare you come here—how dare you? Two years ago I forbade you ever to enter my husband’s studio again.
ROSALINE.
I did not know it was your husband’s studio when I came. I am here to sit to a friend of his.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I’m the friend.
MRS. SYLVESTER (to ROSALINE).
What did you say?
ROSALINE.
I did not speak.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Now let me quite understand you. Do you mean to say that it was not Mr. Sylvester who brought you here?
ROSALINE.
Certainly I do. I came to Mr.—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (in terror aside to ROSALINE).
MR. Brown.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Who did you say? Who is Mr. Brown?
ROSALINE.
I did not say “Mr. Brown.” A gentleman engaged me to sit to him, and told me to come here this morning at ten o’clock. He said he was a friend of Mr. Sylvester’s.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Then you did know that this was Mr. Sylvester’s studio!
ROSALINE.
I did not. He said it belonged to a friend of his, but did not mention his name.
MRS. SYLVESTER (impatiently).
Whose name?
ROSALINE.
His friend’s name.
MRS. SYLVESTER (passionately).
Who was this friend, girl? Who told you to come? Answer me.
ROSALINE.
Oh, that is very easy. I was engaged by Mr.—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside to ROSALINE).
MR. Smith.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I do not know any Mr. Smith. Where has he gone?
ROSALINE.
I never said “Mr. Smith.”
MRS. SYLVESTER.
What?
ROSALINE.
Certainly not. I have no reason to mind telling the truth. I am naturally a truthful girl. His name was—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside to ROSALINE).
Robinson.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Once and for all—will you tell me the man’s name?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside to ROSALINE).
No, never!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
You refuse?
ROSALINE.
No.
MRS. SYLYESTER.
Then why did you say “never?”
ROSALINE.
I never said “Never.”
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I warn you, girl, my patience is nearly exhausted.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
So am I. My legs ache at the joints.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
You will either make a clean breast of it, or I shall take steps—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside to ROSALINE).
Let her take steps—that’s what I want her to do.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Ah, wait—doubtless my husband is in hiding. I will see.
(She opens R.D. and exit.)
ROSALINE (going up to REMBRANDT TEMPENNY angrily).
What do you mean by getting me into all this trouble? What do you mean by it?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Oh, you be hanged—you’re a perfect nuisance.
ROSALINE.
What!
(She slaps his face. MRS. SYLVESTER re-enters.)
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I heard a noise.
ROSALINE.
I was playing with the idol, that is all.
(REMBRANDT TEMPENNY wags his head mechanically.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
This is a dignified position for a husband and a ratepayer!—the butt of a bad girl!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Your frivolity will avail you nothing. If you were indeed brought here by a friend of Mr. Sylvester’s, I can guess who he is. His name is Tempenny, and I shall enquire into the matter at once. (Going.)
ROSALINE.
Of course his name is Tempenny—I never denied it.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY and MRS. SYLVESTER (aside).
What?
ROSALINE.
I am nobody’s accomplice—I am an honest woman earning a living. I will tell lies for no one.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
The cat!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Oh, this is infamous! So Mr. Tempenny assists my husband to deceive me, does he? We will see what his wife has to say to it. Birds of a feather—as I always thought. Abandoned wretches both!
(Exit L.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (springing up).
You mischief-making little beast—what have you done?
ROSALINE.
Don’t you talk to me like that—I won’t have it!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (furiously).
You won’t have it!
ROSALINE.
No, I won’t.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
You—you—! You smacked my face!
ROSALINE.
And I’ll smack it again if you aggravate me. If it weren’t that he will be here later on, I’d walk straight out of the studio, and never come into it again.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I’ve a good mind to bundle you out neck and crop, I can tell you. That woman has gone off to complain to my wife. Here, get me out of these things. (He divests himself of the Chinese wig and costume.) I think I had better go. I don’t know how I’ll do the picture—I’ll never do the picture. I think you had better go—if Charlie Sylvester finds you here after this, he will murder you.
CHARLES SYLVESTER (off).
Tempenny!—Tempenny—are you upstairs?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (agitated).
He! Oh, I say, you know—don’t yer know—this is awful!
ROSALINE (rapturously).
I know his voice.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (dancing with terror).
Yes, so do I! He’ll kill you—I warn you he will make a corse of you—or me. I won’t meet him. I can’t. Get rid of him for the Lord’s sake—I’ll hide in there till he has gone.
(Exit R.)
ROSALINE (taking out powder puff).
After years we meet again!
(Enter SYLVESTER L.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Why the devil couldn’t you answer, Tempenny, I say—
ROSALINE (turning).
Charles! Ah! once more!
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Great Scott! My dear girl, what on earth are you here for?
ROSALINE.
It is like that you greet me?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
“Greet” you? Well, upon my word I don’t quite know what you expect. I thought it was understood between us last time we met that—that—we weren’t to meet? You see I’ve got a wife, and—
ROSALINE.
I know. I have just seen her.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
What’s that you say? You have just seen my wife?
ROSALINE (nodding).
She has been here. She has only just gone.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
The devil! What did she say to you—what did she think?
ROSALINE.
She thought you knew about it—she was angry!
CHARLES SYLVESTER (furiously).
And very rightly too. You have no business here—why did you come?
ROSALINE.
MR. Tempenny brought me.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
What? Are you his model? This is really too bad. Where is he?
ROSALINE (pointing R.).
He has gone in there.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
What for? (Calling.) Tempenny! I say, Tempenny, I want you!
(Enter REMBRANDT TEMPENNY very nervously.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Ah—er—good morning, dear boy. What weather, eh? What weather we’re having to be sure. (Aside to ROSALINE.) You malicious, base-hearted—(Shakes his fist at her.) Oh!
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Look here, you know, Tempenny, this won’t do. You have no right to bring the girl here. I don’t think it was at all friendly of you. I—I consider it a damned liberty of you in fact.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (shrinking).
I was afraid you would be vexed, but don’t be cross, dear old man; don’t be “put out” about it. (Trying to laugh.) There are worse troubles at sea, as they say—worse troubles at sea!
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
(With rising indignation.) But I am put out. Damn the sea—what’s that got to do with it. Mrs. Sylvester has been in and seen her, I understand? You have served me a very shabby trick, Tempenny—I am very sorry about it!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Still trying to laugh it off.) All comes out in the wash, old chap—all comes out in the wash, I assure you! (Slaps him on the shoulder.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Don’t do that—I don’t like it!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (nervously).
Ha, ha, ha! (Does it again.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER (shouting).
Don’t!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (collapsing).
All right, I won’t.
ROSALINE (advancing).
Charlie!
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Don’t call me “Charlie”—I don’t like it.
ROSALINE.
Once—
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Well, then, I don’t like it twice—do you hear! This is all your fault, Tempenny. You have got me into a pretty mess upon my word. My wife won’t believe me, and I shall never hear the end of it.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
And what about mine?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Yours?
ROSALINE.
Yes, she has gone to tell her.
CHARLES SYLVESTER (roaring with laughter).
Ha, ha, ha!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (miserably).
Remarkably funny, isn’t it?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Ha, ha, ha!
ROSALINE.
Ha, ha, ha!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(To CHARLES SYLVESTER; pointing to ROSALINE.) That girl is a perfect devil. She smacked my face just now when I was posing as a mandarin.
CHARLES SYLVESTER (staring).
As a what!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I was a mandarin when your wife came in—I thought it best—and this ex-mash of yours took advantage of me, and smacked my face.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
(To ROSALINE.) I tell you what it is,—I think you had better go. You had better be off—I can’t have you here.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I quite agree. I don’t want her—she is more trouble than she is worth.
ROSALINE.
You are very rude to me, both of you. (To CHARLES SYLVESTER.) Your manners have not improved with matrimony, my friend.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
I am not going to discuss my manners—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
No, he is not going to discuss his manners.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
The point is—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
The point is—git!
ROSALINE.
The point is that if you don’t ask me properly, I shall do nothing of the kind. Now you’ve got it.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
(To REMBRANDT TEMPENNY angrily.) What the devil do you mean by bringing such a firebrand here?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Now don’t lose your temper again. (To ROSALINE.) Will you go?
ROSALINE.
No, I won’t.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
That settles it. (The two men look at each other helplessly.)
(Enter SARAH ANN.)
SARAH ANN.
If you please, sir, there is a gentleman downstairs who wants to see Mr. Tempenny.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Me? What’s his name? What does he want?
SARAH ANN.
He says his name is Mr. Schercl.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I’m out. Go and tell him so. It only wanted this to complete my happiness. I won’t see him, do you hear?
SARAH ANN.
If you please the gentleman said he must see you, but if you was engaged, he’d wait.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
You won’t get rid of old Schercl in a hurry, if he has advanced you any of the “ready.”
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Tell him I’m out. Then let him come up if he likes.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
What are you going to do?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I am going to dissemble. I am going to be an Eastern potentate, and I am going to spoof the old boy. (To SARAH ANN.) Menial, slope! (To CHARLES SYLVESTER.) Help me.
ROSALINE.
This is the rummiest studio that ever I was in!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Yes, originality is what we pride ourselves on. (He disguises himself as the Maharajah of Slamthedoor.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
And what am I to do?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
You must be very deferential. I think you had better salaam when you speak to me. Try it.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Like this? (Salaams.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
That’s it, only more so. And mind, if he wants to see Susannah, you don’t let him look at it. It’s only just begun. How do I look?
ROSALINE.
You look like a Guy Fawkes.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Dear child! how pretty she talks! Where did you originally find such a treasure?
(Enter HENRICH SCHERCL L.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Ah, Mr. Sylvester, how do you do? Where is Mr. Tempenny? I hoped to see him.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
He has been compelled to go out on most important business.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
The business of you gentlemen is always “most important” excepting when it concerns them that find you the wherewithal. (Aside.) What a nice girl!
(ROSALINE smiles at him.)
CHARLES SILVESTER.
I don’t think, my dear Schercl, that you have much cause to complain. You don’t lose by us; now confess!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
My dear sir, if I lost by you how do you think I should garry on my business? One must live. But you artists don’t give us much chance. You are always bleeding us for what you call “a bit on aggount.”
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (coming down).
Your conversation is very interesting, but I wish to see Mr. Tempenny. He is not here, and if he is not coming I shall go. Allah Bismillah Remdazzlegefoo!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Aside to CHARLES SYLVESTER.) What does he say?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
(Aside to HENRICH SCHERCL.) He’s swearing because Tempenny is out.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I wanted to buy some of his great works. The Maharajah of Battledore told me that he was one of your most favourite painters.
ROSALINE (aside).
Good old Rembrandt Tempenny. What larks!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Aside to CHARLES SYLVESTER.) Let me deal with this sportsman.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
(Aside to HENRICH SCHERCL.) Bosh, why should you?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Do you want to sell your “Battle of Agincourt?”
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Of course I do.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
How much?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Two hundred—you know that!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
A hundred ready?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Yes.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You will have a jeque to-night.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
On your word?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
On my word.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
An open one?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Yes, my dear young friend. Now oblige me by skipping.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Right you are. Allow me to introduce to your Highness, Mr. Schercl—Mr. Schercl, the Maharajah of Slamthedoor.
(Exit R.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Allah Bismillah Pottamarmala Goo!
HENRICH SCHERCL (aside).
He’s swearing again. (Aloud.) I am sorry your Royal Highness has been kept waiting. These artists are such gurious people. Your Highness broboses to buy bictures, yes?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I have built a new palace at Slamthedoor, and I must have, of course, some pictures for my galleries.
ROSALINE.
Does your Highness want any slaves too?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Aside to ROSALINE.) Go away, girl—go away! One deal at a time! (Aloud) May I make so bold as to enquire the size of the new palace, Oh glorious One? (Salaams.) (Aside.) I think that is right!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
The size? It is no bigger than my other one—it is about four times as large as your Buckingham Palace.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Great heavens! And you will have a vast picture gallery, Oh Light of my Eyes!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Five—five picture galleries, and I desire to fill them. That is why I am looking up these artists. My cousin the Maharajah of Battledore has given me several introductions.
ROSALINE.
Doesn’t your Royal Highness want any slaves? Ye before whose radiance the sun pales and the stars grow dim—no slaves?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Can you dance, damsel, as I would see you?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Aside to ROSALINE.) Go away—go away—go away. Oh, demmit, will you go away! (Salaaming.) Most Serene One—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Proceed. But be quick—I am impatient to be gone. Allah Bismillah, be quick!
HENRICH SCHERCL (aside).
What a temper he’s got! (Aloud.) Be guided by your servant. I have your Royal Highness’s interest at heart. (Aside.) Also my own. (Aloud.) These bainters are so queer—they do not understand business at all, at all. Nach, they know nothing about it—at least very few of them. The less you have to do with them directly the better for your Royal Highness. If your Royal Highness wishes to fill the picture galleries of your new palace I’ll take on the job at contract. I’ll save you sixty per cent, s’welp me!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
That is very kind of you. Why should you do it?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Well, your Royal Highness, I was struck by your demeanour and to tell your Royal Highness the truth, except with the Brince of Westphalia I have never done any business with royal families before.
ROSALINE (aside.)
Modest violet! There’s nothing like being frank!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
You do not advise me then to see this Mr. Tempenny, or the other painters whose names I have?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Certainly not, your Royal Highness. Let me arrange everything. Here’s my card—Heinrich Schercl, 41 Golden Square.
ROSALINE.
(Aside to HENRICH SCHERCL). Look here, what am I to have for this.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Aside to ROSALINE). For what?
ROSALINE.
(Aside to HENRICH SCHERCL). I can queer your pitch.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Aside to ROSALINE). We will talk later—we will talk later. Don’t bother me!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
My dear Mr. Schercl, I am delighted to have met you. You are quite confident you can fill my galleries?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
With genuine works of art. (Aside.) Poor Gamboge died last week; I am sure he hasn’t sold more than three pictures during the last ten years—I can get the lot cheap. Only there must be 200 at least. What with all the other stony devils I can lay hands on, I’ll soon decorate the old josser’s walls.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well then, I shall wait no longer—there is no need now. I shall call upon you, and settle our business together. Good-bye, miss, for the present. This is your daughter, I suppose?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Eh—oh, yes, my youngest—my ewe lamb.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I congratulate you. She is worthy to be a Princess.
ROSALINE (aside).
This man’s a flyer! I thought he was a mild young mug, but he fairly takes the merry little bun!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Good day, sir. My time in London is short. If I cannot call upon you, I will ask you to come to me at Claridge’s.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Charmed, your Royal Highness. I shall be entirely at your disposition.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
That is well.
(Exit R. SCHERCL and ROSALINE salaam).
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Skipping with ecstasy). Jampagne! Little girl, I will stand you jampagne to zelebrate the deal.
ROSALINE.
Good biz! (Opens L.D. and calls). Here Mary, Matilda, Susan, or whatever your name is, you’re wanted.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
And you are a very charming girl, that is a fact. (Lighting a cigarette). I think I must give you a sovereign, yes?
ROSALINE.
I don’t mind if I do. (Taking cigarette from his case). A “sovereign?” What are you talking about? My commission on this is a tenner—and I’m cheap at that!
(Enter SARAH ANN L.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Giving her money). Fetch me a bottle of jampagne, and bring two glasses, eh?
SARAH ANN.
Yessir.
ROSALINE.
And look slippy. Go on, I’m parched. Mind, the best champagne. (To HENRICH SCHERCL.) Got a light?
(Exit SARAH ANN L.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
What is your name, my dear? (Gives her light).
ROSALINE.
Rosaline—you may call me “Rosie” if you like.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
May I—why? (Chuckles).
ROSALINE.
Well, I was struck by your demeanour, and to tell your Royal Highness the truth I have never done business with such a nice gentleman as you before.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Ha, ha, ha! You are a sharp girl too! You are too good to go to India to be a slave. You could do better in London.
ROSALINE.
(Coquettishly). Think so?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You shall have a slave of your own—a slave who would love you.
ROSALINE.
It sounds very well. In the meantime what about the tenner?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Taking out his notebook). You shall have it. There! Will you give me a kiss for that, my Rosie, with your rosy-posy lips?
(Enter SARAH ANN L. with champagne and glasses).
ROSALINE.
Not before the child! Put it down, my girl, that’ll do—Come on, Heinrich of the Golden Square, come and pour out the fluid.
(Exit SARAH ANN L.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Lifting his glass). Gezunteit!
ROSALINE.
Very likely. (Aside.) This is the best day’s sitting I’ve ever done. (Aloud.) Now this is what I call comfortable: a bottle of the boy, a cigarette, and a cosy chat. I am very glad to have met you.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Putting his arm round her waist). Really—is that so?
ROSALINE.
That is really so. But mind you, an hour ago, I should not have let you do this.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I am so blessed we did not meet an hour ago.
ROSALINE.
It is true. An hour ago I was in love, but I have been treated very badly. Just now my heart is at the rebound.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Leedle heart—let me gatch it!
ROSALINE.
Now you are making fun of me. I am not so simple as you think. Why, we have only just met.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
But we can meet again. Besides, I am not going yet—I will stop and talk to you. You shall tell me all about your love-trouble, and I will gonsole you. Hark, what is that?
ROSALINE.
Somebody is coming upstairs.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Then I will step into the next room. It would not look vell that I should be found trinking jampagne mid a pretty girl like you. When they are gone I will come back.
ROSALINE.
MR. Sylvester is in there. Here, if you don’t want to be seen, get into this cupboard.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Is it glean? Are you sure?
ROSALINE.
Clean as a new pin. Come on if you mean it, there’s no time to waste. Now or never?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Going into cupboard, gingerly). I am certain it is not glean.
(ROSALINE shuts the door and turns as MRS. SYLVESTER re-enters with MRS. TEMPENNY).
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I told you so! Here she is as bold as brass. Now what do you say to that?
MRS. TEMPENNY.
If indeed my husband brought her here—if he has really assisted Mr. Sylvester to deceive you—
MRS. SYLVESTER.
(Scornfully). “IF!” The creature does not deny it. Speak, girl.
ROSALINE.
Good afternoon.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
“Good afternoon?” It isn’t a “good afternoon” I want you to say. Speak, I tell you.
ROSALINE.
What shall we talk about?
(R.D. slowly opens a little—showing REMBRANDT TEMPENNY and CHARLES SYLVESTER listening).
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Aside to CHARLES SYLVESTER). Can you do it, do you think?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
I can do it.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Threaten to punch my head.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Yes, yes—and you had better be very violent too.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I twig. Wait a moment.
(They withdraw).
MRS. TEMPENNY.
(Bursting into tears). I will never forgive him as long as I live.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I should think not. When I see Charles—!
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Oh, and when I see Rembrandt—!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
I will see him, if I stop till midnight!
MRS. TEMPENNY.
And I’ll see him, if I don’t go home for a week!
(Enter REMBRANDT TEMPENNY backwards, very disordered attire—his entrance to suggest that he has been flung in. CHARLES SYLVESTER follows).
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
(With affected fury). If you did not bring this person here, sir, how did she come?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
How?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Yes, sir—how?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
How do I know?
MRS. SYLVESTER and MRS. TEMPENNY.
What is all this? Oh, good gracious, the men have been fighting!
ROSALINE (aside).
I know what it is—it’s spoof.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
(Rushing to CHARLES SYLVESTER). Charles—Charles, compose yourself!
MRS. TEMPENNY.
(Rushing to REMBRANDT TEMPENNY). Rembrandt, be calm.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Don’t interfere, Adelaide.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Eugenia, this concerns us alone. Mr. Sylvester accuses me—
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Yes, sir, I accuse you—
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Throwing himself upon him). Ah!
(CHARLES SYLVESTER throws him off).
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
The best of wives—
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Don’t you dare to mention Mrs. Sylvester’s name, sir!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I am talking about Mrs. Tempenny. I say you would lead the best of wives to suppose that I—I—introduced this creature into your room. (Weeps.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
And through you I may be falsely suspected by Adelaide. (Weeps.)
(ROSALINE whispers to REMBRANDT TEMPENNY aside.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Aside to ROSALINE.) Great Jupiter!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
All this is very fine—but who is the man who brought her here if you didn’t? Answer that.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Yes, if neither of you did it, who did? Where is the man?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Throwing open cupboard triumphantly and disclosing SCHERCL covered with paint.) There!
Curtain.
Act III
Scene — Drawing-room at Tempenny’s House
TIME:—Next day.
(Susan discovered dusting. As Curtain goes up bell is heard off.)
SUSAN.
Was that the bell again? It is not the sort of place I am used to, this—where the master’s afraid to see half the people who calls for him. I only hopes my wages is right. They was precious particular about my references when they took me. Was I sober, honest and industrious, and the Lord knows what? Wish I’d been equal particular about theirs. The master ain’t remarkably industrious, that I do know, for he often don’t paint nothing for a week at a time; and he frequently ain’t sober. Whether or not he is honest I shall find out at the end of my month. (Bell rings again.) It was the bell—I’d better go and see who it is.
(Exit L.)
HENRICH SCHERCL (heard off).
Mr. Tempenny in? Nonsense. Then I’ll wait till he is.
SUSAN (expostulating).
But, sir, if you please, sir, really—
(Enter HENRICH SCHERCL followed by SUSAN.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I tell you I mean to see him. Now let us have the truth, girl, where is he?
SUSAN.
Mr. Tempenny, sir?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
“Mr. Tempenny, sir?” Yes, ma’am, who else? Now, is he at home?
SUSAN.
No, sir, he isn’t; he has gone out.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Not to his studio, for I’ve just been there.
SUSAN.
No, sir, he has gone to his dentist.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Then I’ll just sit down here till he comes back. You may go in and tell him so.
SUSAN (confused).
I hope you don’t think I tell stories, sir? If Mr. Tempenny’s out how can I take him your message?
(Enter REMBRANDT TEMPENNY R.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (briskly).
Now, you understand, Susan, I am out to everyone, and if a Mr. Schercl calls—(seeing HENRICH SCHERCL—aside). Good gracious! (Aloud.) Beg him to wait till I return—I want to see him.
HENRICH SCHERCL (sardonically).
He is waiting, sir.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (affecting surprise).
My dear friend, how glad I am—how very glad! (Aside.) This is the very devil! (Aloud.) All right, Susan, you can go.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I want a leedle talk with you, my friend, without delay.
SUSAN (aside).
I hope the master’ll enjoy himself, I’m sure! I did my best for him anyhow!
(Exit L.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Mr. Tempenny, I am here to demand an exblanation, sir—an exblanation of your strange behaviour of yesterday. And there is something else, sir. I find you are not Mr. Tempenny at all, sir, you are an imposter.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
He did take me for Tempenny R.A., Addison was right! (Aloud.) An imposter, Mr. Schercl?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Zertainly, sir. I took you for the Mr. Tempenny—it was to the Mr. Tempenny, I brobosed to give my commission. You ’ave cheated me, you fellow.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Now, now, take care! How was I to know you took me for somebody else? You came to me, and you made me an offer, and I accepted it. How could I tell you thought I was another—I may say an inferior—Tempenny? I say how could I know you were making a mistake?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You knew it very well. I would not pay tree ’undred pounds to you! What do you think I am—a fool? You ’ave obtained an order from me under false pretences, do you hear. I say you ’ave robbed me.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Gently! gently! this is slander, old gentleman. It will cost you a good deal more than three hundred pounds if you aren’t more guarded in your remarks.
HENRICH SCHERCL (spluttering).
What?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It will really. I shall owe it to myself to have you up for slander, and it would be a very good advertisement for me too.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
What! what! what!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
A really excellent advertisement. And what a fool you’d look! Come, come, you don’t suppose your other Tempenny would have done you a work of this size for three hundred, do you? Nor as good either? No, no! As to the affair of yesterday, my wife was very much to blame—I am very angry with her. You see she has such curious ideas, and when she found you hidden in a cupboard with a paint-pot upset over you she thought it strange. It wasn’t strange, of course—(airily) most natural thing in the world, but she couldn’t see it.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I felt very hurt to be so misunderstood. The only person who abbeared to have any zympathy for me was your model—the Miss Rosaline.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Nice girl! charming girl, isn’t she? Full of feeling, and—I say, Schercl, you’ve made a conquest there, and no error.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Nonsense—go away mid your rubbidge!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Well, you have, you know! She made an awful scene after you left—said you were the only man she ever saw look dignified with a pot of paint upset over him. It is a pity in one way she is so taken with you—I feel for her.
HENRICH SCHERCL (flattered).
Vat rot you talk. Why should you feel for her?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Because you meant nothing by your attentions, Schercl, and the poor girl doesn’t know that. She is thinking about you—not to put too fine a point upon it, she has fallen in love with you; and what do you care?—you laugh!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
No, I do not laff—I have a ’eart, have I not? I have the emotions and sensibilities.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
You have, you have. But you do not realise how serious an impression you have made.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Well, now about Susannah. You can do it as well as your namesake. Yes?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Ah! (Enthusiastically.) Wait till you see it!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
It still progresses?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Superbly.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
“Zuperbly!” But I do not see it, and to me you never abbear to paint.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
My dear friend, how can you doubt the success of the picture after you have seen the model who is sitting for it? Fair—beautiful form—exquisite arms—er—
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Yes, yes, yes. So Miss Rosaline sits for your Susannah, eh?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Won’t it be worth the three hundred—won’t it be a dream.
HENRICH SCHERCL (eagerly).
I will come in one morning when you are at work! Yes, I am satisfied with the gontract—I say no more. I will come in when she is sitting.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNV.
No, you don’t, my boy—oh no, you don’t! The picture is what you get for your money—the real, living, breathing woman ain’t included. Not much! Oh, no, Schercl, you old rogue—only the picture, sonny, no more. Ha, ha, ha!
HENRICH SCHERCL (confused).
You misunderstood me quite—I had no idea but of my business. I do not think of other things. Er—when will the picture be done, Tempenny, I would like it soon?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Ha, ha, ha! Control yourself, Romeo, it’s coming on.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
But according to our contract, it should be done in a week’s time. If you disappoint me, my friend, we shall fall out again.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
It strikes me you’ll be precious lucky if you get it at all. The infernal “contract” is the bane of my life. (Aloud.) All right, Schercl, I will push on with it—I want the other two hundred, you know. I shan’t delay for my own sake. (Enter CHARLES SYLVESTER L.) Hallo, Charlie, how d’ye do. How are things at home?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I see another of yesterday’s gulprits. However I have forgiven you.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
That’s all right. (Aside to REMBRANDT TEMPENNY:) Rosaline’s downstairs—wanting to see you. Where is your wife?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Out. (To HENRICH SCHERCL.) That poor girl has followed you here. Perhaps out of pity you ought to go down to her and say a kind word.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Miss Rosaline—she is here? Well, I never! Yes, I will go down and speak to her. Where is she?
(Enter ROSALINE L.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
Damn it, in the drawing-room! Look here, Schercl, you can’t go till she does. If my wife comes in and finds her, she is your affair. Don’t leave her for Heaven’s sake.
ROSALINE.
Good morning, gentlemen. Oh, Mr. Schercl! What a pleasure—how do you do?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I am very well, I thank you. And you?—I need not ask, you look most beautiful.
ROSALINE (aside).
Dear man!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
(Aside to CHARLES SYLVESTER.) Why is Tempenny so afraid his wife should see her? You too—why are you so afraid? Is she not of a good character, this Miss Rosaline?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
(Aside to HENRICH SCHERCL.) The girl is a paragon. They are jealous of her, that’s all. She is too good-looking for ’em.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Ha, ha, I see!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I think we’ll leave you, old man. Rosaline, Mr. Schercl, has something to say to you—we shall be in the way. (Aside to CHARLES SYLVESTER.) Come on, old chap—I wouldn’t risk being found in the room again with the girl for a monkey.
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Yes, I have some business to discuss with Mr. Tempenny. If you will excuse us—
(Exit R.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(Aside to HENRICH SCHERCL.) Take her away soon, there’s a trump, or there will be another row. I give you five minutes to get her out of the house, Take her to breakfast—or—or—wherever you like, only hurry! (Exit L.)
ROSALINE.
How funny to be left alone like this, isn’t it, I really called to know when Mr. Tempenny proposed to continue the sittings. Do you know?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
No, I have no idea. But I am very glad you called—our conversation yesterday was so inderrupted.
ROSALINE.
Yes, and we were getting on so nicely too, weren’t we? Do you like my new hat? I bought it out of the tenner you gave me. What do you think of the bow—isn’t it a duck?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You do not sit to Mr. Tempenny in a hat, I think.
ROSALINE.
In a—? Oh no, not in—. The subject is classical.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Zo I understand (he sighs).
ROSALINE (sighing).
Ah!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Why do you sigh? You are not happy?
ROSALINE.
Did I sigh? I was thinking.
HENRICH SCHERCL (sighing).
Heigho!
ROSALINE.
But now it is you who sighs. Aren’t you happy?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I alzo, I was thinking.
ROSALINE.
Of what?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
If I was to tell you, you would call me “sentimental old fool.”
ROSALINE.
Not old. Never a fool. (With sudden persuasiveness.) Tell me!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I was thinking then, of you.
ROSALINE.
Of little me? What of me.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I was wishing I was this Mr. Tempenny.
ROSALINE.
Why? (Realising reason, and covering her face bashfully.) Oh!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I mean you go to him every day, and your zociety is very fascinating. That is all.
ROSALINE.
Of course, if you were Mr. Tempenny, you would see more of me. I should have said you would see me “oftener.”
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Heigho!
ROSALINE.
Heigho!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
The little that I have seen has made a great impression on me, Rosie—I shall never forget your face.
ROSALINE.
Really?
HENRICH SCHERCL (eagerly).
Yes, yes, really—it is true.
ROSALINE.
I am only a model, you know—a poor girl.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You are a model of perfection. I zympathise with you.
ROSALINE.
You do not think the less of me because?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I assure you I think of you the more. Nevertheless I do not like the idea.
ROSALINE.
And why?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You must find it zo chilly in the winter.
ROSALINE.
I have got used to it. And besides I am fortunately of a warm temperament. The wind is tempered to the shorn lamb.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I have not ever in my life seen a young lady who did make me feel for her the strange attraction that I feel for you, Rosie. I am jealous of this Mr. Tempenny.
ROSALINE.
Jealous! Do you mean you are in love with me? (Aside.) Oh, my goodness, what a joke!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
And if I did, would you laugh at me? Supposing I was to say to you—“Rosie, I would like to marry you,” what would you answer?
ROSALINE.
Say it, and see. (Aside.) He’s in earnest. I do believe.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I am a very rich man. I could give you lots of such hats, and jewellery, and a big house.
ROSALINE (sentimentally).
I wish that you were poor.
HENRICH SCHERCL (in a fright).
No, no, for goodness sake, don’t say that! Why?
ROSALINE.
You would not doubt my sincerity then. Now, you may think—
HENRICH SCHERCL.
No, no, I do believe you. Do you care for me a little, Rosie?
ROSALINE (archly).
Perhaps I do—a little. No, you are making game of me! (Turns up.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I am not—I am not! I love you desperately. Rosie, will you be my wife. Say “yes” my darling.
ROSALINE.
Yes. Now you may kiss me.
HENRICH SCHERCL (kissing her).
This is paradise. And Rosie—
ROSALINE.
Yes, Mr. Schercl.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Ah, no, you must say Heinrich.
ROSALINE.
Yes—Heinrich?
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You will not sit to Mr. Tempenny any more? It is not fit, now that you are to be Mrs. Schercl, that you should earn your living in such a way.
ROSALINE (doubtfully).
He will be very disappointed. He can’t finish “Susannah” without me, and if he don’t finish it, he won’t get the two hundred pounds.
(Enter MRS. SYLVESTER and MRS. TEMPENNY. L. dressed for walking.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Sir!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Ah, my friend Tempenny’s wife. And Mrs. Sylvester—how do you do?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
This creature again?
MRS. TEMPENNY.
By what right, sir, do you bring this person again—and into my private house.
ROSALINE.
Creature! Stand up for me, Heinrich.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I will, my treasure. (To MRS. TEMPENNY.) I must trouble you, my good madam, to speak in terms of more respect of a lady who will shortly be my wife.
| MRS. TEMPENNY | } |
| } (aside). | |
| MRS. SYLVESTER | } |
Schercl’s wife! We must be very civil to her!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Let me introduce you: Mrs. Tempenny, Mrs. Sylvester—the future Mrs. Heinrich Schercl.
(The two women gush up to her and shake her hands.)
(Enter TEMPENNY and SYLVESTER. L.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
What’s this I see, do I dream?
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Are visions about?
MRS. TEMPENNY (aside to TEMPENNY).
Why on earth didn’t you tell me? They are engaged—I might have offended him for life!
MRS. SYLVESTER (aside to SYLVESTER).
How stupid you were! They are going to be married. Why, you might never have got an order from him again!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Dear, dear, dear, but my very good friend, if this lady is going to be your wife, how about “Susannah?”
HENRICH SCHERCL.
Forgive me, “Susannah” cannot be. I release you from the contract.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (aside).
Tidings of joy! (Aloud.) But—but—this is very hard on me.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I release you, and I pay you just the same.
REMBRANDT TFMPENNY.
But she has had the money for a dozen sittings.
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I pay.
(Enter SUSAN.)
SUSAN.
If you please, sir, there’s a hofficer of the law downstairs and he wants Mr. Tempenny or forty pun’, sixteen shillings and ninepence.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (waving his hand).
Schercl!
HENRICH SCHERCL.
I pay—and I gif you the balance by a jeque.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (with mock despair).
Pay—you pay? But the work of my life unfinished.—What money can compensate for that?
(Sinks forlornly into chair.)
Curtain.
The End