it here?'
'It's on the bed.'
'Let's have a— My God, Blister!'
Freddie, hastening to the bed and gazing down at the canvas which lay upon it, had started back like one who sees some dreadful sight. He was now replacing his monocle in his eye, preparatory to trying again, and Bill looked at him dully.
'You notice something wrong too?'
'Wrong? My dear old bird!'
'Don't forget it's not finished.'
Freddie shook his head.
'It's no good taking that line, Blister. Thank heaven it isn't. One wouldn't want a thing like that to spread any further. What on earth made you depict this porker as tight?'
'Tight?'
'The pig I see here is a pig that has obviously been on the toot of a lifetime for days on end. Those glassy eyes. That weak smile. I've seen old Tippy look just like that. I'll tell you what it reminds me of. One of those comic pigs you see in Christmas numbers.'
Bill was shaken. The artistic temperament can stand only just so much destructive criticism. He, too, approached the bed and examining his handiwork was compelled to recognize a certain
crude justice in the other's words. He had not noticed it before, but in the Empress's mild face, as it leered from the canvas, there was a distinct suggestion of inebriation. Her whole aspect was that of a pig which had been seeing the new year in.
'That's odd,' he said, frowning thoughtfully.
'Worse than odd,' corrected Freddie. 'I don't wonder the guv'nor was stirred to his depths.'
'I think where I must have gone wrong,' said Bill, stepping back and closing one eye, 'was in trying to get some animation into her face. You've no notion, Freddie, how disheartening it is for an artist to come up against a sitter like that. She just lay on her side with her eyes shut and bits of potato dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. Velazquez would have been baffled. It seemed to me that I had somehow got to create a bit of sparkle, so I prodded her with a stick and shoved the result down like lightning before she could go to sleep again. But I see what you mean. The expression isn't right.'
'Nor the shape. You've made her oblong.'
'Oh, that's nothing. I should probably have altered that. I have been experimenting in the cubist form lately, and I just tried it as an idea. Purely tentative.'
Freddie looked at his watch, and was shocked at the position of the hands. Already the wretched Fanshawe-Chadwicks must be suffering agonies, which would inevitably become more and more severe. But he could not leave matters as they stood. He sighed and forced the picture of the Fanshawe-Chadwicks from his mind.
'Tell me exactly what took place, Blister. Up to a certain point, of course, I can visualize the scene. You at your easel, plying the brush; the guv'nor toddling up, adjusting his pince-nez. He
stands behind you. He peers over your shoulder. He starts back with a hoarse cry. What then? Was what he proceeded to dish out undisguisedly the raspberry?'
'Yes.'
'No avenue was left open that might have led to a peaceful settlement?'
'No.'
'It would be no use your offering to rub it out and try again?'
'No. You see, I'm afraid I lost my temper a bit. I forget what I said exactly, but it was to the effect that if I had known he wanted the pretty-pretty, chocolate-box sort of thing, I would never have accepted the commission. That and something about stifling the freedom of expression of the artist. Oh yes, and I told him to go and boil his head.'
'You did? H'm,' said Freddie. 'Ha. 'Myes. Um. This isn't too good, Blister.'
'No.'
'Prue may be upset.'
Bill shuddered.
'She is.'
'You've seen her, then?'
Bill shuddered again.
'Yes,' he said, in a low voice. 'I've seen her. She was with your father, and she stayed on after he left.'
'What was her attitude?'
'She was furious, and broke off the engagement.'
'You astound me, Blister. You couldn't have understood her.'
'I don't think so. She said she never wanted to see me again, and was going to devote herself to good works.'
'To which
'It's on the bed.'
'Let's have a— My God, Blister!'
Freddie, hastening to the bed and gazing down at the canvas which lay upon it, had started back like one who sees some dreadful sight. He was now replacing his monocle in his eye, preparatory to trying again, and Bill looked at him dully.
'You notice something wrong too?'
'Wrong? My dear old bird!'
'Don't forget it's not finished.'
Freddie shook his head.
'It's no good taking that line, Blister. Thank heaven it isn't. One wouldn't want a thing like that to spread any further. What on earth made you depict this porker as tight?'
'Tight?'
'The pig I see here is a pig that has obviously been on the toot of a lifetime for days on end. Those glassy eyes. That weak smile. I've seen old Tippy look just like that. I'll tell you what it reminds me of. One of those comic pigs you see in Christmas numbers.'
Bill was shaken. The artistic temperament can stand only just so much destructive criticism. He, too, approached the bed and examining his handiwork was compelled to recognize a certain
crude justice in the other's words. He had not noticed it before, but in the Empress's mild face, as it leered from the canvas, there was a distinct suggestion of inebriation. Her whole aspect was that of a pig which had been seeing the new year in.
'That's odd,' he said, frowning thoughtfully.
'Worse than odd,' corrected Freddie. 'I don't wonder the guv'nor was stirred to his depths.'
'I think where I must have gone wrong,' said Bill, stepping back and closing one eye, 'was in trying to get some animation into her face. You've no notion, Freddie, how disheartening it is for an artist to come up against a sitter like that. She just lay on her side with her eyes shut and bits of potato dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. Velazquez would have been baffled. It seemed to me that I had somehow got to create a bit of sparkle, so I prodded her with a stick and shoved the result down like lightning before she could go to sleep again. But I see what you mean. The expression isn't right.'
'Nor the shape. You've made her oblong.'
'Oh, that's nothing. I should probably have altered that. I have been experimenting in the cubist form lately, and I just tried it as an idea. Purely tentative.'
Freddie looked at his watch, and was shocked at the position of the hands. Already the wretched Fanshawe-Chadwicks must be suffering agonies, which would inevitably become more and more severe. But he could not leave matters as they stood. He sighed and forced the picture of the Fanshawe-Chadwicks from his mind.
'Tell me exactly what took place, Blister. Up to a certain point, of course, I can visualize the scene. You at your easel, plying the brush; the guv'nor toddling up, adjusting his pince-nez. He
stands behind you. He peers over your shoulder. He starts back with a hoarse cry. What then? Was what he proceeded to dish out undisguisedly the raspberry?'
'Yes.'
'No avenue was left open that might have led to a peaceful settlement?'
'No.'
'It would be no use your offering to rub it out and try again?'
'No. You see, I'm afraid I lost my temper a bit. I forget what I said exactly, but it was to the effect that if I had known he wanted the pretty-pretty, chocolate-box sort of thing, I would never have accepted the commission. That and something about stifling the freedom of expression of the artist. Oh yes, and I told him to go and boil his head.'
'You did? H'm,' said Freddie. 'Ha. 'Myes. Um. This isn't too good, Blister.'
'No.'
'Prue may be upset.'
Bill shuddered.
'She is.'
'You've seen her, then?'
Bill shuddered again.
'Yes,' he said, in a low voice. 'I've seen her. She was with your father, and she stayed on after he left.'
'What was her attitude?'
'She was furious, and broke off the engagement.'
'You astound me, Blister. You couldn't have understood her.'
'I don't think so. She said she never wanted to see me again, and was going to devote herself to good works.'
'To which
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