Ethel (looking up at Gerard’s picture of the Countess de Florac). What odd dresses you wore in the time of the Empire, Madame de Florac! How could you ever have such high waists, and such wonderful fraises! (MADAME DE FLORAC kisses ETHEL. Tableau.)
Enter SAINT JEAN, preceding a gentleman with a drawing-board under his arm.
Saint Jean. Monsieur Claive! [Exit SAINT JEAN.
Clive. How do you do, Madame la Comtesse? Mademoiselle, j’ai l’honneur de vous souhaiter le bon jour.
Madame de F. Do you come from the Louvre? Have you finished that beautiful copy, mon ami?
Clive. I have brought it for you. It is not very good. There are always so many petites demoiselles copying that Sasso Ferrato; and they chatter about it so, and hop from one easel to another; and the young artists are always coming to give them advice—so that there is no getting a good look at the picture. But I have brought you the sketch; and am so pleased that you asked for it.
Madame de F. (surveying the sketch). It is charming—charming! What shall we give to our painter for his chef-d’œuvre?
Clive (kisses her hand). There is my pay! And you will be glad to hear that two of my portraits have been received at the Exhibition. My uncle, the clergyman, and Mr. Butts, of the Life Guards.
Ethel. Mr. Butts—quel nom! Je ne connois aucun M. Butts!
Clive. He has a famous head to draw. They refused Crackthorpe and—and one or two other heads I sent in.