II
It was a bright morning in Old Bond Street, and fat little Mr. Aeneas,the fashionable mask-maker, was sunning himself at the door of his shop.His window was lined as usual with all kinds of masks--beautiful maskswith pink cheeks, and absurd masks with protuberant chins; curiousTrpocrctiira [Greek: prosopa] copied from old tragic models; masks ofpaper for children, of fine silk for ladies, and of leather for workingmen; bearded or beardless, gilded or waxen (most of them, indeed, werewaxen), big or little masks. And in the middle of this vain galaxy hungthe presentment of a Cyclops' face, carved cunningly of gold, with agreat sapphire in its brow.
The sun gleamed brightly on the window and on the bald head andvarnished shoes of fat little Mr. Aeneas. It was too early for anycustomers to come, and Mr. Aeneas seemed to be greatly enjoying hisleisure in the fresh air. He smiled complacently as he stood there, andwell he might, for he was a great artist and was patronized by severalcrowned heads and not a few of the nobility. Only the evening before,Mr. Brummell had come into his shop and ordered a light summer mask,wishing to evade for a time the jealous vigilance of Lady Otterton. Itpleased Mr. Aeneas to think that his art made him the recipient of somany high secrets. He smiled as he thought of the titled spendthriftswho, at this moment, _perdus_ behind his masterpieces, passed unscathedamong their creditors. He was the secular confessor of his day, alwaysable to give absolution. A unique position!
The street was as quiet as a village street. At an open window over theway, a handsome lady, wrapped in a muslin _peignoir_, sat sipping hercup of chocolate. It was La Signora Gambogi, and Mr. Aeneas made hermany elaborate bows. This morning, however, her thoughts seemed faraway, and she did not notice the little man's polite efforts. Nettled ather negligence, Mr. Aeneas was on the point of retiring into his shop,when he saw Lord George Hell hastening up the street, with a posy ofwild flowers in his hand.
"His Lordship is up betimes!" he said to himself. "An early visit to LaSignora, I suppose."
Not so, however. His Lordship came straight towards the mask-shop. Oncehe glanced up at Signora's window and looked deeply annoyed when he sawher sitting there. He came quickly into the shop.
"I want the mask of a saint," he said.
"Mask of a saint, my Lord? Certainly!" said Mr. Aeneas, briskly. "Withor without halo? His Grace the Bishop of St. Aldred's always wears hiswith a halo? Your Lordship does not wish for a halo? Certainly! If yourLordship will allow me to take his measurement----"
"I must have the mask to-day," Lord George said. "Have you noneready-made?"
"Ah, I see. Required for immediate wear," murmured Mr. Aeneas,dubiously. "You see, your Lordship takes a rather large size." And helooked at the floor.
"Julius!" he cried suddenly to his assistant, who was putting thefinishing touches to a mask of Barbarossa which the young king ofZuerremburg was to wear at his coronation the following week. "Julius! Doyou remember the saint's mask we made for Mr. Ripsby, a couple of yearsago?"
"Yes, sir," said the boy. "It's stored upstairs."
"I thought so," replied Mr. Aeneas. "Mr. Ripsby only had it on hire.Step upstairs, Julius, and bring it down. I fancy it is just what yourLordship would wish. Spiritual, yet handsome."
"Is it a mask that is even as a mirror of true love?" Lord George asked,gravely.
"It was made precisely as such," the mask-maker answered. "In fact itwas made for Mr. Ripsby to wear at his silver wedding, and was veryhighly praised by the relatives of Mrs. Ripsby. Will your Lordship stepinto my little room?"
So Mr. Aeneas led the way to his parlour behind the shop. He was elatedby the distinguished acquisition to his _clientele_, for hitherto LordGeorge had never patronized his business. He bustled round his parlourand insisted that his Lordship should take a chair and a pinch from hissnuff-box, while the saint's mask was being found.
Lord George's eye travelled along the rows of framed letters from greatpersonages, which lined the walls. He did not see them though, for hewas calculating the chances that La Gambogi had not observed him as heentered the mask-shop. He had come down so early that he had thought shewould still be abed. That sinister old proverb, _La jalouse se leve debonne heure_, rose in his memory. His eye fell unconsciously on a large,round mask made of dull silver, with the features of a human face tracedover its surface in faint filigree.
"Your Lordship wonders what mask that is?" chirped Mr. Aeneas, tappingthe thing with one of his little finger nails.
"What is that mask?" Lord George murmured, absently.
"I ought not to divulge, my Lord," said the mask-maker. "But I know yourLordship would respect a professional secret, a secret of which I ampardonable proud. This," he said, "is a mask for the sun-god, Apollo,whom heaven bless!"
"You astound me," said Lord George.
"Of no less a person, I do assure you. When Jupiter, his father, madehim lord of the day, Apollo craved that he might sometimes see thedoings of mankind in the hours of night time. Jupiter granted soreasonable a request, and when next Apollo had passed over the sky andhidden in the sea, and darkness had fallen on all the world, he raisedhis head above the waters that he might watch the doings of mankind inthe hours of night time. But," Mr. Aeneas added, with a smile, "hisbright countenance made light all the darkness. Men rose from theircouches or from their revels, wondering that day was so soon come, andwent to their work. And Apollo sank weeping into the sea. 'Surely,' hecried, 'it is a bitter thing that I alone, of all the gods, may notwatch the world in the hours of night time. For in those hours, as I amtold, men are even as gods are. They spill the wine and are wreathedwith roses. Their daughters dance in the light of torches. They laugh tothe sound of flutes. On their long couches they lie down at last, andsleep comes to kiss their eyelids. None of these things may I see.Wherefore the brightness of my beauty is even as a curse to me, and Iwould put it from me.' And as he wept, Vulcan said to him, 'I am not theleast cunning of the gods, nor the least pitiful. Do not weep, for Iwill give you that which shall end your sorrow. Nor need you put fromyou the brightness of your beauty.' And Vulcan made a mask of dullsilver and fastened it across his brother's face. And that night, thusmasked, the sun-god rose from the sea and watched the doings of mankindin the night time. Nor any longer were men abashed by his bright beauty,for it was hidden by the mask of silver. Those whom he had so often seenhaggard over their daily tasks, he saw feasting now and wreathed withred roses. He heard them laugh to the sound of flutes, as theirdaughters danced in the red light of torches. And when at length theylay down upon their soft couches and sleep kissed their eyelids, he sankback into the sea and hid his mask under a little rock in the bed of thesea. Nor have men ever known that Apollo watches them often in the nighttime, but fancied it to be some pale goddess."
"I myself have always thought it was Diana," said Lord George Hell.
"An error, my Lord!" said Mr. Aeneas, with a smile. "_Ecce signum!_" Andhe tapped the mask of dull silver.
"Strange!" said his Lordship. "And pray how comes it that Apollo hasordered of _you_ this new mask?"
"He has always worn twelve new masks every year, inasmuch as no mask canendure for many nights the near brightness of his face, before whicheven a mask of the best and purest silver soon tarnishes and wears away.Centuries ago, Vulcan tired of making so very many masks. And so Apollosent Mercury down to Athens, to the shop of Phoron, a Phoenicianmask-maker of great skill. Phoron made Apollo's masks for many years,and every month Mercury came to his shop for a new one. When Phorondied, another artist was chosen, and, when _he_ died, another, and so onthrough all the ages of the world. Conceive, my Lord, my pride andpleasure when Mercury flew into my shop, one night last year, and mademe Apollo's warrant-holder. It is the highest privilege that anymask-maker can desire. And when I die," said Mr. Aeneas, with someemotion, "Mercury will confer my post upon another."
"And do they pay you for your labour?" Lord George asked.
Mr. Aeneas drew himself up to his full height, such as it was. "InOlympus, my Lord," he said, "
they have no currency. For any mask-maker,so high a privilege is its own reward. Yet the sun-god is generous. Heshines more brightly into my shop than into any other. Nor does hesuffer his rays to melt any waxen mask made by me, until its wearer doffit and it be done with."
At this moment Julius came in with the Ripsby mask. "I must ask yourLordship's pardon, for having kept you so long," pleaded Mr. Aeneas."But I have a large store of old masks and they are imperfectlycatalogued."
It certainly was a beautiful mask, with its smooth pink cheeks anddevotional brows. It was made of the finest wax. Lord George took itgingerly in his hands and tried it on his face. It fitted _a merveille_.
"Is the expression exactly as your Lordship would wish?" asked Mr.Aeneas.
Lord George laid it on the table and studied it intently. "I wish itwere more as a perfect mirror of true love," he said at length. "It istoo calm, too contemplative."
"Easily remedied!" said Mr. Aeneas. Selecting a fine pencil, he deftlydrew the eyebrows closer to each other. With a brush steeped in somescarlet pigment, he put a fuller curve upon the lips. And behold! itwas the mask of a saint who loves dearly. Lord George's heart throbbedwith pleasure.
"And for how long does your Lordship wish to wear it?" asked Mr. Aeneas.
"I must wear it until I die," replied Lord George.
"Kindly be seated then, I pray," rejoined the little man. "For I mustapply the mask with great care. Julius, you will assist me!"
So, while Julius heated the inner side of the waxen mask over a littlelamp, Mr. Aeneas stood over Lord George gently smearing his featureswith some sweet-scented pomade. Then he took the mask and powdered itsinner side, quite soft and warm now, with a fluffy puff. "Keep quitestill, for one instant," he said, and clapped the mask firmly on hisLordship's upturned face. So soon as he was sure of its perfectadhesion, he took from his assistant's hand a silver file and a littlewooden spatula, with which he proceeded to pare down the edge of themask, where it joined the neck and ears. At length, all traces of the"join" were obliterated. It remained only to arrange the curls of thelordly wig over the waxen brow.
The disguise was done. When Lord George looked through the eyelets ofhis mask into the mirror that was placed in his hand, he saw a face thatwas saintly, itself a mirror of true love. How wonderful it was! He felthis past was a dream. He felt he was a new man indeed. His voice wentstrangely through the mask's parted lips, as he thanked Mr. Aeneas.
"Proud to have served your Lordship," said that little worthy, pocketinghis fee of fifty guineas, while he bowed his customer out.
When he reached the street, Lord George nearly uttered a curse throughthose sainted lips of his. For there, right in his way, stood LaGambogi, with a small pink parasol. She laid her hand upon his sleeveand called him softly by his name. He passed her by without a word.Again she confronted him.
"I cannot let go so handsome a lover," she laughed, "even though hespurn me! Do not spurn me, George. Give me your posy of wild flowers.Why, you never looked so lovingly at me in all your life!"
"Madam," said Lord George, sternly, "I have not the honour to know you."And he passed on.
The lady gazed after her lost lover with the blackest hatred in hereyes. Presently she beckoned across the road to a certain spy.
And the spy followed him.
The Happy Hypocrite: A Fairy Tale for Tired Men Page 2