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Updated: May 2, 2025
There had been a time when it amused him to see Caspar submerge the painter in a torrent of turbid eloquence, and to watch poor Mungold sputtering under the rush of denunciation, yet emitting little bland phrases of assent, like a gentleman drowning correctly, in gloves and eye-glasses. But Stanwell was beginning to find less food for gaiety than for envy in the contemplation of his colleague.
Dat's de public all over! Mrs. Millington don't want a Mungold, because everybody's got a Mungold, but she wants a picture that's in the same sdyle, because dat's de sdyle, and she's afraid of any oder!" Stanwell was listening with real enjoyment. "Ah, you know your public," he murmured. "Vell, you do, too, or you couldn't have painted dat," the dealer retorted.
It seemed perfectly natural to Kate that Caspar's friends should spend their money for his recreation, and by one of the most touching sophistries of her sex she thus reconciled herself to the anomaly of taking a little pleasure on her own account. Mungold was less often in the way, for she had never been able to forgive him for proposing that Caspar should do Mrs.
"But you didn't come just to make me envious of Mungold's studio, did you?" And he pushed forward a chair for his visitor. The latter, however, declined it with an affable motion. "Of gourse not, of gourse not but Mr. Mungold is a sensible man. He makes a lot of money, you know." "Is that what you came to tell me?" said Stanwell, still humorously.
It mattered little to Stanwell that Mungold was with Caspar as long as he himself was with Kate; and he instantly soared to the suggestion that they should prolong the painter's vigil by taking the "elevated" to the Park. In this too his companion acquiesced after a moment of surprise: she seemed in a consenting mood, and Stanwell augured well from the fact.
"So he can't be accused of doing what he does for money of sacrificing anything better." She turned on him with troubled eyes. "It was you who made me understand that, when Caspar used to make fun of him." Stanwell smiled. "I'm glad you still think me a better painter than Mungold. But isn't it hard that for that very reason I should starve in a hole?
The latter at once assumed that Stanwell had been on the alert for him, and met the supposed advance by affably inviting himself into the studio. "May I come and take a look around, my dear fellow? I have been meaning to drop in for an age " Mungold always spoke with a girlish emphasis and effusiveness "but I have been so busy getting up Mrs.
For a moment Caspar was silent too; then, with a terrible smile: "My dear fellow, I congratulate you; Mungold will have to look to his laurels," he said. The shot delivered, he stalked away with his seven-league stride, and Kate moved tragically through the room in his wake. SHEPSON took up his hat with a despairing gesture. "Vell, I gif you up I gif you up!" he said.
Shepson waited to observe the result of this overwhelming announcement, and Stanwell, after a momentary halt of surprise, brought out laughingly: "But this is a Mungold. Is this what she calls being original?" "Shoost exactly," said Shepson, with unexpected acuteness. "That's vat dey all want something different from what all deir friends have got, but shoost like it all de same.
That fool has forgotten to light the stove. Come in, but for heaven's sake don't take off your coat." Mr. Shepson glanced about the studio with a look which seemed to say that, where so much else was lacking, the absence of a fire hardly added to the general sense of destitution. "Vell, you ain't as vell fixed as Mr. Mungold ever been to his studio, Mr. Sdanwell?
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