DOI article:
Beerbohm, Max: The happy hypocrite
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.38746#0027
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By Max Beerbohm
“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 your lordship would wish. Spiritual, yet hand-
some.”
“ 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 it was made for Mr. Ripsby to wear at his silver wedding,
and was very highly praised by the relatives of Mrs. Ripsby.
Will your lordship step into my little room ?”
So Mr. Aeneas led the way to his parlour behind the shop. He
was elated by the distinguished acquisition to his clientele, for
hitherto Lord George had never patronised his business. He
bustled round his parlour and insisted that his lordship should take
a chair and a pinch from his snuff-box, while the saint’s mask was
being found.
Lord George’s eye travelled along the rows of framed letters
from great personages, which lined the walls. He did not see
them, though, for he was calculating the chances that La Gambogi
had not observed him, as he entered the mask-shop. He had
come down so early that he had thought she would be still abed.
That sinister old proverb, La jalouse se live de bonne 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 traced over
its surface in faint filigree.
“Your lordship wonders what mask that is ?” chirped Mr.
Aeneas, tapping the thing with one of his little finger nails.
“What is that mask?” Lord George murmured.
“ I ought not to divulge, my lord,” said th<* mask-maker. “ But
I know your lordship would respect a professional secret, a secret
of
By Max Beerbohm
“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 your lordship would wish. Spiritual, yet hand-
some.”
“ 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 it was made for Mr. Ripsby to wear at his silver wedding,
and was very highly praised by the relatives of Mrs. Ripsby.
Will your lordship step into my little room ?”
So Mr. Aeneas led the way to his parlour behind the shop. He
was elated by the distinguished acquisition to his clientele, for
hitherto Lord George had never patronised his business. He
bustled round his parlour and insisted that his lordship should take
a chair and a pinch from his snuff-box, while the saint’s mask was
being found.
Lord George’s eye travelled along the rows of framed letters
from great personages, which lined the walls. He did not see
them, though, for he was calculating the chances that La Gambogi
had not observed him, as he entered the mask-shop. He had
come down so early that he had thought she would be still abed.
That sinister old proverb, La jalouse se live de bonne 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 traced over
its surface in faint filigree.
“Your lordship wonders what mask that is ?” chirped Mr.
Aeneas, tapping the thing with one of his little finger nails.
“What is that mask?” Lord George murmured.
“ I ought not to divulge, my lord,” said th<* mask-maker. “ But
I know your lordship would respect a professional secret, a secret
of