‘This is where Herbert lives, where this afternoon you will enter perhaps for you a new world, although, dear Titus, I already feel that there can be very little that would surprise you. I still long to hear about your world. I feel a closeness to it that I hardly feel for this one. I am bewildered by what you have left behind to become a wanderer, a watcher, an outcast; there are few who will find themselves in sympathy with you.’
‘I have felt that since I left my home. On overthrowing all that I possessed, all whom I loved or hated, I have become, as you say, an outcast. I stand by myself. I am alone, by my own action, perhaps by my own wish. I would like to stay with you for a little, but by my own nature I shall in time move on. I have hurt more people than I could ever hope to make reparation to, and although you might think it presumptuous of me, I shall hurt you, when I go, but I will hurt myself as well.’
‘I know that, Titus; I’ve known it since I met you, but there’s nothing I can do. How can anyone prevent what is ahead for us, and why should I want them to? While we can, without too much soul-searching, can’t we enjoy each moment now? I feel an exhilaration that so rarely comes, and I feel capable of being buffeted and coming up again for more. But until that time we must live in the present, and you must get yourself together in a new role, as a virile man for Mrs Sempleton-Grove, via Herbert, and I must get on with my work – so let’s go back now and let life drift away, becalmed, until the storms come again.’
22
Titus as Model
THEY WALKED BACK to Ruth’s studio with Dog, who sensed Titus’s affinity with her, so much so that he chose to walk by Ruth’s side instead of his master’s. For Titus, this indication was a good one. Despite his endeavour to have no human ties, no loves, no hates, he felt an unpossessive affection for the animal, which had displayed so much valour towards him, but he knew that when the time came he would abandon him. Perhaps Dog himself sensed it and, not sharing Titus’s need for self-sufficiency, was yearning towards someone who would shield him against what was to come.
As they entered the studio the cats, according to their temperaments, remained asleep, or raised eyes and, recognising no interruption to their privacy, closed them again.
‘What are you going to do then, Ruth?’
‘I’ve got to do three drawings for a story that I don’t like, and as usual they are to be done in a hurry. I’ve been waiting to hear if they were wanted for months and now I’ve heard yes, but they must be sent by the end of the month. I’ve got to get references and materials and, most urgent of all, my ideas straightened out or crookeded out perhaps. I might even ask you if you would pose for me some time, but I’m afraid I can’t pay you! I’ll have to go out now to get some special paper – so perhaps you’ll have gone to Herbert’s by the time I’m back, but Titus, come back, won’t you. It’s too soon for goodbye.’
As Ruth left to go out, Dog, without being asked, rose to follow, but she said, ‘Oh, no, Dog. You’ve got an appointment this afternoon, but we’ll be together some time – of that I am almost certain, eh, Titus?’
Titus didn’t answer, for he knew the implications of Ruth’s remark.
After she had left, despite the very short time Titus had known her, her absence filled the studio and Titus had a momentary wish to be like other people in wanting and needing the succour of one person, one place, a home, but he knew himself too well to think that it would ever be.
It was time to go to Herbert Drumm’s, so he called Dog to him and they both went out to see what lay in store for them.
Titus found his way to Herbert’s studio and knocked on the glass panel of the door. It was opened by a lady in a black turban, dressed completely in black; her eyes were black, with deep brown shadows ringing them, which gave them a tragic appearance, and her skin was sallow with two patches of rouge flanking the hollow shadows. It might be supposed that such an appearance would be reflected in the lady’s demeanour, but as she said ‘Titus Groan’ in a deeply accented voice, she bowed to welcome him in and her melancholy smile lent as much warmth to her personality as did the rouge to her cheeks.
She pushed forward a velvet curtain, which divided the small entrance from the main room, and invited Titus and Dog to enter.
‘Ah, come in, old boy, glad to see you. Let’s have a drink – bring on the booze, old girl, will you?’
The room that Titus entered was the same size and shape as Ruth’s, but they were as unalike in everything else as a horse from a centaur. It seemed to have two completely different moods, not divided by anything tangible, such as a screen, but by the furnishings. There was a certain chaos where Herbert stood cleaning his brushes with turpentine, and on the other side of the room, a tidy, finicky posse of little tables with lace mats proclaimed the complete autonomy of their own domain. Titus was not able to distinguish the details of the profound difference in the two parts of the room, but he was intrigued by it.
‘Sophia is my wife, old boy. She doesn’t hold with painting and she likes to keep herself to herself. It’s not all that easy in one room but we’ve reached a pretty good compromise between us, and I don’t stray into her province any more than she does into mine. She came from the country, you see – anyway, let’s get down to work soon. Ever done any modelling? Course you haven’t – I don’t know where you’ve come from, but you don’t have to tell me, and what’s more you’ve never stood in one place for long at a time, so I won’t ask you to do too much – and old Dog – old bag Sempleton-Grove’ll like him in the pic too. Thanks, old girl,’ said Herbert, as Sophia strayed across the invisible dividing line of the two territories with a silver salver on which were two heavy glasses and a decanter of red wine. She put it down on a dust-covered table on which were scattered innumerable objects of so diverse a kind that Titus would not have been able, even if he had wished, to distinguish one from another.
Sophia withdrew across the frontier, without having spoken, but there was no unfriendliness in her manner and Titus took his glass of wine from Herbert as he sat down in a large armchair, whose springs were on affectionate terms with the floor.
‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I know nothing of modelling, as you call it, and I can’t see myself standing still for long, but I’d like to know how you go about what you’re doing.’
‘Well, we’ve all got our tricks, you know, old boy. I’m not much of a painter but I love the damned stuff, and I’m in luck to have got round old Sempleton-Grove – I’m slick, but I know it, and if she wants lovely boys I’ll give her lovely boys, and heap them on by the basinful. No, you won’t have to stand long – it’s your head I want – I’ll use the old bod for the rest of you,’ and Herbert pointed to a life-size figure sitting in a chair, which Titus had not noticed.
‘Oh, what is that?’
‘That’s a lay figure, old boy,’ said Herbert as he went over to it and stood it up. ‘It’s got all its joints and there’s a key for her to stay in any position I want her to . . .’
‘But I’m a he,’ said Titus.
‘Do you know, I’m just beginning to decipher the difference between he and she, and I rather like it . . . anyway, you see, I’m only going to do some drawings of your head, and then put it on top of wonder-girl, only it’ll be wonder-boy – see what I mean?’
‘I think I see,’ said Titus. ‘I shall look forward to seeing my transformation.’
‘Look, can you go on sitting in that chair, and just keep your head as still as possible, and I’ll get on with it, and your companion, that great hound, who’ll be a good deal better a sitter than you.’