_apparent_, for in its subject, and not in its handling, however
exquisite, consists its real value. The picture represents the interior
of what might be a chamber in some antique religious building; and its
foreground is occupied by a female figure, in a species of white robe,
part of which is arranged so as to form a veil. The dress, however, is
not that of any religious order. In her hand the figure bears a lamp, by
which alone her figure and face are illuminated; and her features wear
such an arch smile, as well becomes a pretty woman when practising some
prankish roguery; in the background, and, excepting where the dim red
light of an expiring fire serves to define the form, in total shadow,
stands the figure of a man dressed in the old Flemish fashion, in an
attitude of alarm, his hand being placed upon the hilt of his sword,
which he appears to be in the act of drawing.

There are some pictures, which impress one, I know not how, with a
conviction that they represent not the mere ideal shapes and
combinations which have floated through the imagination of the artist,
but scenes, faces, and situations which have actually existed. There is
in that strange picture, something that stamps it as the representation
of a reality.

And such in truth it is, for it faithfully records a remarkable and
mysterious occurrence, and perpetuates, in the face of the female
figure, which occupies the most prominent place in the design, an
accurate portrait of Rose Velderkaust, the niece of Gerard Douw, the
first, and, I believe, the only love of Godfrey Schalken. My great
grandfather knew the painter well; and from Schalken himself he learned
the fearful story of the painting, and from him too he ultimately
received the picture itself as a bequest. The story and the picture have
become heir-looms in my family, and having described the latter, I