0309
“Faith, 't is the Duchess, after all,” said the actress. “Ah, Sir Godfrey has returned in good time.” Sir Godfrey was standing at the door. “Dear Sir Godfrey, Her Grace is anxious for you to paint her in her true character—that of the jealous wife; and so I leave her in your good hands. Adieu, your Grace. Oh, fie, to be jealous of so poor a creature as an actress!”
She stood for a moment by the side of the painter, turning half round as she raised the tapestry hanging. Her laughter when she had passed into the hall, rang through the studio.
Sir Godfrey began to speak.
“I fear greatly that in my absence—”
“Sir, in your absence your house has been turned into a lover's rendezvous!” cried the Duchess. “Your aged domestic, Mrs. Smollett, wrote to me a confidential letter—”
“Madam, I have no aged domestic, and I know no one of the name of Smollett,” said Sir Godfrey.
“What! Oh, the man is in the plot also! It were beneath my dignity to converse further with him. Shame, sir—shame on both of you!”
She flung herself through theportièreand disappeared in a billow of tapestry.
The Duke and Sir Godfrey stood side by side in silence in the studio. At last the former spoke.
“Faith, Kneller, I think I begin to see how we have all been tricked. That play-actress hath made fools of us all for her own sport.”
“I begin to fear that that is so,” said Sir Godfrey.
“Ay, sir; she hath fooled us,” said the Duke. “Methinks it will be some space of time before the wrath of Her Grace will be appeased.”
And so it was.