第9章

andhegaveheracard。

Noelcouldnothelpanswering:"MynameisNoelPierson;Ilivewithmyfather;here’stheaddress"——shefoundhercase，andfishedoutacard。"Myfatherisaclergyman;wouldyoucaretocomeandseehim？

Helovesmusicandpainting。"

"Itwouldbeagreatpleasure;andperhapsImightbeallowedtopaintyou。Alas！Ihavenostudio。"

Noeldrewback。"I’mafraidthatIworkinahospitalallday，and——

andIdon’twanttobepainted，thankyou。But，Daddywouldliketomeetyou，I’msure。"

Thepainterbowedagain;shesawthathewashurt。

"OfcourseIcanseethatyou’reaveryfinepainter，"shesaidquickly;"only——only——Idon’twantto，yousee。Perhapsyou’dliketopaintDaddy;he’sgotamostinterestingface。"

Thepaintersmiled。"Heisyourfather，mademoiselle。MayIaskyouonequestion？Whydoyounotwanttobepainted？"

"Because——becauseIdon’t，I’mafraid。"Sheheldoutherhand。Thepainterbowedoverit。"Aurevoir，mademoiselle。"

"Thankyou，"saidNoel;"itwasawfullyinteresting。"Andshewalkedaway。Theskyhadbecomefullofcloudsroundthewesterlysun;andtheforeigncrinkledtraceryoftheplane—treebranchesagainstthatFrench—grey，golden—edgedmass，wasverylovely。Beauty，andthetroublesofothers，soothedher。Shefeltsorryforthepainter，buthiseyessawtoomuch！Andhiswords:"Ifeveryouactdifferentlyfromothers，"madeherfeelhimuncanny。Wasittruethatpeoplealwaysdislikedandcondemnedthosewhoacteddifferently？Ifheroldschool—fellowsnowknewwhatwasbeforeher，howwouldtheytreather？Inherfather’sstudyhungalittlereproductionofatinypictureintheLouvre，a"RapeofEuropa，"byanunknownpainter——

ahumorousdelicatething，ofanenraptured;fair—hairedgirlmountedonaprancingwhitebull，crossingashallowstream，whileonthebankallherwhitegirl—companionsweregathered，turninghalf—sour，half—enviousfacesawayfromthattoo—fearfulspectacle，whileoneofthemtriedwithtimiddesperationtomountastrideofasittingcow，andfollow。Thefaceofthegirlonthebullhadoncebeencomparedbysomeonewithherown。Shethoughtofthispicturenow，andsawherschoolfellows—athrongofshockedandwonderinggirls。Supposeoneofthemhadbeeninherposition！’ShouldIhavebeenturningmyfaceaway，liketherest？Iwouldn’tno，Iwouldn’t，’shethought;

’Ishouldhaveunderstood！’Butsheknewtherewasakindoffalseemphasisinherthought。Instinctivelyshefeltthepainterright。

Onewhoacteddifferentlyfromothers，waslost。

Shetoldherfatheroftheencounter，adding:

"Iexpecthe’llcome，Daddy。"

Piersonanswereddreamily:"Poorfellow，Ishallbegladtoseehimifhedoes。"

"Andyou’llsittohim，won’tyou？"

"Mydear——I？"

"He’slonely，youknow，andpeoplearen’tnicetohim。Isn’tithatefulthatpeopleshouldhurtothers，becausethey’reforeignordifferent？"

Shesawhiseyesopenwithmildsurprise，andwenton:"Iknowyouthinkpeoplearecharitable，Daddy，buttheyaren’t，ofcourse。"

"That’snotexactlycharitable，Nollie。"

"Youknowthey’renot。Ithinksinoftenjustmeansdoingthingsdifferently。It’snotrealsinwhenitonlyhurtsyourself;butthatdoesn’tpreventpeoplecondemningyou，doesit？"

"Idon’tknowwhatyoumean，Nollie。"

Noelbitherlips，andmurmured:"Areyousurewe’rereallyChristians，Daddy？"

Thequestionwassostartling，fromhisowndaughter，thatPiersontookrefugeinanattemptatwit。"Ishouldlikenoticeofthatquestion，Nollie，astheysayinParliament。"

"Thatmeansyoudon’t。"

Piersonflushed。"We’refallibleenough;but，don’tgetsuchideasintoyourhead，mychild。There’salotofrebellioustalkandwritinginthesedays……"

Noelclaspedherhandsbehindherhead。"Ithink，"shesaid，lookingstraightbeforeher，andspeakingtotheair，"thatChristianityiswhatyoudo，notwhatyouthinkorsay。AndIdon’tbelievepeoplecanbeChristianswhentheyactlikeothers——Imean，whentheyjointogethertojudgeandhurtpeople。"

Piersonroseandpacedtheroom。"Youhavenotseenenoughoflifetotalklikethat，"hesaid。ButNoelwenton:

"OneofthemeninherhospitaltoldGratianaboutthetreatmentofconscientiousobjectors——itwashorrible。Whydotheytreatthemlikethat，justbecausetheydisagree？CaptainFortsaysit’sfearwhichmakespeoplebullies。Buthowcanitbefearwhenthey’rehundredstoone？Hesaysmanhasdomesticatedhisanimalsbuthasneversucceededindomesticatinghimself。Manmustbeawildbeast，youknow，ortheworldcouldn’tbesoawfullybrutal。Idon’tseemuchdifferencebetweenbeingbrutalforgoodreasons，andbeingbrutalforbadones。"

Piersonlookeddownatherwithatroubledsmile。Therewassomethingfantastictohiminthissuddenphilosophisingbyonewhomhehadwatchedgrowupfromatinything。Outofthemouthsofbabesandsucklings——sometimes！Butthentheyounggenerationwasalwayssomethingofasealedbooktohim;hissensitiveshyness，and，stillmore，hiscloth，placedasortofinvisiblebarrierbetweenhimandtheheartsofothers，especiallytheyoung。Thereweresomanythingsofwhichhewascompelledtodisapprove，orwhichatleasthecouldn’tdiscuss。Andtheyknewittoowell。UntiltheselastfewmonthshehadneverrealisedthathisowndaughtershadremainedasundiscoveredbyhimastheinteriorofBrazil。Andnowthatheperceivedthis，hewasbewildered，yetcouldnotimaginehowtogetontermswiththem。

AndhestoodlookingatNoel，intenselypuzzled，suspectingnothingofthehardfactwhichwasalteringher——vaguelyjealous，anxious，pained。Andwhenshehadgoneuptobed，heroamedupanddowntheroomalongtime，thinking。Helongedforafriendtoconfidein，andconsult;butheknewnoone。Heshrankfromthemall，astoodownright，bluff，andactive;tooworldlyandunaesthetic;ortoostiffandnarrow。Amongsttheyoungermeninhisprofessionhewasoftenawareoffaceswhichattractedhim，butonecouldnotconfidedeeppersonalquestionstomenhalfone’sage。Butofhisowngeneration，orhiselders，heknewnotonetowhomhecouldhavegone。

VIII

1

Leilawasdeepinhernewdraughtoflife。Whenshefellinloveithadalwaysbeenoverheadandears，andsofarherpassionhadalwaysburntitselfoutbeforethatofherpartner。Thishadbeen，ofcourse，agreatadvantagetoher。NotthatLeilahadeverexpectedherpassionstoburnthemselvesout。Whenshefellinloveshehadalwaysthoughtitwasforalways。Thistimeshewassureitwas，surerthanshehadeverbeen。JimmyFortseemedtoherthemanshehadbeenlookingforallherlife。Hewasnotsogood—lookingaseitherFarieorLynch，butbesidehimtheseothersseemedtohernowalmostridiculous。Indeedtheydidnotfigureatall，theyshrank，theywithered，theywerehusks，togetherwiththeothersforwhomshehadknownpassingweaknesses。Therewasonlyonemanintheworldforhernow，andwouldbeforevermore。Shedidnotidealisehimeither，itwasmoreseriousthanthat;shewasthrilledbyhisvoice，andhistouch，shedreamedofhim，longedforhimwhenhewasnotwithher。Sheworried，too，forshewasperfectlyawarethathewasnothalfasfondofherasshewasofhim。Suchanewexperiencepuzzledher，keptherinstinctspainfullyonthealert。Itwasperhapsjustthisuncertaintyabouthisaffectionwhichmadehimseemmorepreciousthananyoftheothers。Buttherewasevertheotherreason，too—consciousnessthatTimewasafterher，andthisherlastgrandpassion。Shewatchedhimasamother—catwatchesherkitten，withoutseemingto，ofcourse，forshehadmuchexperience。ShehadbeguntohaveacurioussecretjealousyofNoelthoughwhyshecouldnothavesaid。Itwasperhapsmerelyincidentaltoherage，orsprangfromthatvagueresemblancebetweenherandonewhooutrivalledevenwhatshehadbeenasagirl;orfromtheoccasionalallusionsFortmadetowhathecalled"thatlittlefairyprincess。"

Somethingintangible，instinctive，gaveherthatjealousy。Untilthedeathofheryoungcousin’slovershehadfeltsafe，forsheknewthatJimmyFortwouldnothankerafteranotherman’sproperty;hadhenotprovedthatinolddays，withherself，byrunningawayfromher？

AndshehadoftenregrettedhavingtoldhimofCyrilMorland’sdeath。

Onedayshedeterminedtorepairthaterror。ItwasattheZoo，wheretheyoftenwentonSundayafternoons。Theywerestandingbeforeacreaturecalledthemeercat，whichremindedthembothofolddaysontheveldt。Withoutturningherheadshesaid，asiftothelittleanimal:"Doyouknowthatyourfairyprincess，asyoucallher，isgoingtohavewhatisknownasawar—baby？"

Thesoundofhis"What！"gaveherquiteastab。Itwassoutterlyhorrified。

Shesaidstubbornly:"Shecameandtoldmeallaboutit。Theboyisdead，asyouknow。Yes，terrible，isn’tit？"Andshelookedathim。

Hisfacewasalmostcomic，sowrinkledupwithincredulity。

"Thatlovelychild！Butit’simpossible！"

"Theimpossibleissometimestrue，Jimmy。"

"Irefusetobelieveit。"

"Itellyouitisso，"shesaidangrily。

"Whataghastlyshame！"

"Itwasherowndoing;shesaidso，herself。"

"Andherfather——thepadre！MyGod！"

Leilawassuddenlysmittenwithahorribledoubt。Shehadthoughtitwoulddisgusthim，curehimofanylittletendencytoromanticisethatchild;andnowsheperceivedthatitwasrousinginhim，instead，adangerouscompassion。Shecouldhavebittenhertongueoutforhavingspoken。Whenhegotonthehighhorseofsomechampionship，hewasnottobetrusted，shehadfoundthatout;wasevenfindingitoutbitterlyinherownrelationswithhim，constantlyawarethathalfherholdonhim，atleast，layinhissenseofchivalry，awarethatheknewherlurkingdreadofbeingflungonthebeach，byage。Onlytenminutesagohehadutteredatiradebeforethecageofamonkeywhichseemedunhappy。AndnowshehadrousedthatdangeroussideofhiminfavourofNoel。Whatanidiotshehadbeen！

"Don’tlooklikethat，Jimmy。I’msorryItoldyou。"

Hishanddidnotanswerherpressureintheleast，buthemuttered:

"Well，Idothinkthat’sthelimit。What’stobedoneforher？"

Leilaansweredsoftly:"Nothing，I’mafraid。Doyouloveme？"Andshepressedhishandhard。

"Ofcourse。"

ButLeilathought:’IfIwerethatmeercathe’dhavetakenmorenoticeofmypaw！’Herheartbegansuddenlytoache，andshewalkedontothenextcagewithheadup，andhermouthhardset。

JimmyFortwalkedawayfromCamelotMansionsthateveninginextremediscomfortofmind。Leilahadbeensoqueerthathehadtakenleaveimmediatelyaftersupper。ShehadrefusedtotalkaboutNoel;hadevenseemedangrywhenhehadtriedto。Howextraordinarysomewomenwere！Didtheythinkthatamancouldhearofathinglikethataboutsuchadaintyyoungcreaturewithoutbeingupset！Itwasthemostperfectlydamnablenews！Whatonearthwouldshedo——poorlittlefairyprincess！Downhadcomeherhouseofcardswithavengeance！Thewholeofherlife——thewholeofherlife！Withherbringing—upandherfatherandall——itseemedinconceivablethatshecouldeversurviveit。AndLeilahadbeenalmostcallousaboutthemonstrousbusiness。Womenwerehardtoeachother！Badenough，thesethings，whenitwasasimpleworkinggirl，butthisdainty，sheltered，beautifulchild！No，itwasaltogethertoostrong——toopainful！Andfollowinganimpulsewhichhecouldnotresist，hemadehiswaytotheoldSquare。Buthavingreachedthehouse，henearlywentawayagain。Whilehestoodhesitatingwithhishandonthebell，agirlandasoldierpassed，appearingasifbymagicoutofthemoonlitNovembermist，blurredandsolidshapesembraced，thenvanishedintoitagain，leavingthesoundoffootsteps。Fortjerkedthebell。Hewasshownintowhatseemed，toonecomingoutofthatmist，tobeabrilliant，crowdedroom，thoughintruththerewerebuttwolampsandfivepeopleinit。Theyweresittingroundthefire，talking，andpausedwhenhecamein。WhenhehadshakenhandswithPiersonandbeenintroducedto"mydaughterGratian"andamaninkhaki"myson—in—lawGeorgeLaird，"toatallthin—faced，foreign—。

lookingmaninablackstockandseeminglynocollar，hewentuptoNoel，whohadrisenfromachairbeforethefire。’No！’hethought，’I’vedreamedit，orLeilahaslied！’Shewassoperfectlytheself—

possessed，daintymaidenheremembered。Eventhefeelofherhandwasthesame—warmandconfident;andsinkingintoachair，hesaid:

"Pleasegoon，andletmechipin。"

"WewerequarrellingabouttheUniverse，CaptainFort，"saidthemaninkhaki;"delightedtohaveyourhelp。Iwasjustsayingthatthisparticularworldhasnoparticularimportance，nomorethananewspaper—sellerwouldaccordtoitifitwerecompletelydestroyedtomorrow——’’Orriblecatastrophe，totaldestructionoftheworld——sixo’clockedition—pyper！’Isaythatitwillbecomeagainthenebulaoutofwhichitwasformed，andbyfrictionwithothernebulare—formintoafreshshapeandsoonadinfinitum——butIcan’texplainwhy。

Mywifewondersifitexistsatallexceptinthehumanmind——butshecan’texplainwhatthehumanmindis。Myfather—in—lawthinksthatitisGod’shobby——buthecan’texplainwhoorwhatGodis。Nollieissilent。AndMonsieurLavendiehasn’tyettolduswhathethinks。

Whatdoyouthink，monsieur？"Thethin—faced，big—eyedmanputuphishandtohishigh，veinedbrowasifhehadaheadache，reddened，andbegantospeakinFrench，whichFortfollowedwithdifficulty。

"FormetheUniverseisalimitlessartist，monsieur，whofromalltimeandtoalltimeiseverexpressinghimselfindifferingforms——

alwaystryingtomakeamasterpiece，andgenerallyfailing。Formethisworld，andalltheworlds，arelikeourselves，andtheflowersandtrees——littleseparateworksofart，moreorlessperfect，whoselittlelivesruntheircourse，andarespilledorpowderedbackintothisCreativeArtist，whenceissueeverfreshattemptsatart。I

agreewithMonsieurLaird，ifIunderstandhimright;butIagreealsowithMadameLaird，ifIunderstandher。Yousee，Ithinkmindandmatterareone，orperhapsthereisnosuchthingaseithermindormatter，onlygrowthanddecayandgrowthagain，foreverandever;

butalwaysconsciousgrowth——anartistexpressinghimselfinmillionsofever—changingforms;decayanddeathaswecallthem，beingbutrestandsleep，theebbingofthetide，whichmustevercomebetweentworisingtides，orthenightwhichcomesbetweentwodays。Butthenextdayisneverthesameasthedaybefore，northetideasthelasttide;sothelittleshapesoftheworldandofourselves，theseworksofartbytheEternalArtist，areneverrenewedinthesameform，arenevertwicealike，butalwaysfresh—freshworlds，freshindividuals，freshflowers，fresheverything。Idonotseeanythingdepressinginthat。TomeitwouldbedepressingtothinkthatI

wouldgoonlivingafterdeath，orliveagaininanewbody，myselfyetnotmyself。Howstalethatwouldbe！WhenIfinishapictureitisinconceivabletomethatthispictureshouldeverbecomeanotherpicture，orthatonecandividetheexpressionfromthemind—stuffithasexpressed。TheGreatArtistwhoisthewholeofEverything，iseverinfreshefforttoachievenewthings。Heisasafountainwhothrowsupnewdrops，notwoeveralike，whichfallbackintothewater，flowintothepipe，andsoarethrownupagaininfresh—shapeddrops。ButIcannotexplainwhythereshouldbethisEternalEnergy，everexpressingitselfinfreshindividualshapes，thisEternalWorkingArtist，insteadofnothingatall——justemptydarkforalways;exceptindeedthatitmustbeonethingortheother，eitherallornothing;andithappenstobethisandnotthat，theallandnotthenothing。"

Hestoppedspeaking，andhisbigeyes，whichhadfixedthemselvesonFort’sface，seemedtothelatternottobeseeinghimatall，buttorestonsomethingbeyond。Themaninkhaki，whohadrisenandwasstandingwithhishandonhiswife’sshoulder，said:

"Bravo，monsieur;Jollywellputfromtheartist’spointofview。

Theideaispretty，anyway;butisthereanyneedforanideaatall？

Thingsare;andwehavejusttotakethem。"Forthadtheimpressionofsomethingdarkandwrithing;thethinblackformofhishost，whohadrisenandcomeclosetothefire。

"Icannotadmit，"hewassaying，"theidentityoftheCreatorwiththecreated。Godexistsoutsideourselves。NorcanIadmitthatthereisnodefnitepurposeandfulfilment。AllisshapedtoHisgreatends。Ithinkwearetoogiventospiritualpride。Theworldhaslostreverence;Iregretit，Ibitterlyregretit。"

"Irejoiceatit，"saidthemaninkhaki。"Now，CaptainFort，yourturntobat！"

Fort，whohadbeenlookingatNoel，gavehimselfashake，andsaid:

"Ithinkwhatmonsieurcallsexpression，Icallfighting。IsuspecttheUniverseofbeingsimplyalongfight，asumofconquestsanddefeats。Conquestsleadingtodefeats，defeatstoconquests。IwanttowinwhileI’malive，andbecauseIwanttowin，Iwanttoliveonafterdeath。Deathisadefeat。Idon’twanttoadmitit。WhileI

havethatinstinct，Idon’tthinkIshallreallydie;whenIloseit，IthinkIshall。"HewasconsciousofNoel’sfaceturningtowardshim，buthadthefeelingthatshewasn’treallylistening。

"Isuspectthatwhatwecallspiritisjustthefightinginstinct;

thatwhatwecallmatteristhemoodoflyingdown。Whether，asMr。

Piersonsays，Godisoutsideus，or，asmonsieurthinks，weareallpartofGod，Idon’tknow，I’msure。"

"Ah！Thereweare！"saidthemaninkhaki。"Weallspeakafterourtemperaments，andnoneofusknow。Thereligionsoftheworldarejustthepoeticexpressionsofcertainstronglymarkedtemperaments。

Monsieurwasapoetjustnow，andhisistheonlytemperamentwhichhasneveryetbeenrammeddowntheworld’sthroatintheformofreligion。Gooutandproclaimyourviewsfromthehousetops，monsieur，andseewhathappens。"

ThepaintershookhisheadwithasmilewhichseemedtoFortverybrightonthesurface，andverysadunderneath。

"Non，monsieur，"hesaid;"theartistdoesnotwishtoimposehistemperament。Differenceoftemperamentistheveryessenceofhisjoy，andhisbeliefinlife。Withoutdifferencetherewouldbenolifeforhim。’Toutcasse，toutlasse，’butchangegoesonforever:

Weartistsreverencechange，monsieur;wereverencethenewnessofeachmorning，ofeachnight，ofeachperson，ofeachexpressionofenergy。Nothingisfinalforus;weareeagerforallandalwaysformore。Weareinlove，yousee，evenwith—death。"

Therewasasilence;thenFortheardPiersonmurmur:

"Thatisbeautiful，monsieur;butoh！howwrong！""Andwhatdoyouthink，Nollie？"saidthemaninkhakisuddenly。Thegirlhadbeensittingverystillinherlowchair，withherhandscrossedinherlap，hereyesonthefire，andthelamplightshiningdownonherfairhair;shelookedup，startled，andhereyesmetFort’s。

"Idon’tknow;Iwasn’tlistening。"Somethingmovedinhim，akindofburningpity，arageofprotection。Hesaidquickly:

"Thesearetimesofaction。Philosophyseemstomeannothingnowadays。Theonethingistohatetyrannyandcruelty，andprotecteverythingthat’sweakandlonely。It’sallthat’slefttomakelifeworthliving，whenallthepacksofalltheworldareoutforblood。"

Noelwaslisteningnow，andhewentonfervently:"Why！EvenwewhostartedouttofightthisPrussianpack，havecaughtthepackfeeling——sothatit’shuntingalloverthecountry，oneverysortofscent。

It’samostinfectiousthing。"

"Icannotseethatwearebeinginfected，CaptainFort。"

"I’mafraidweare，Mr。Pierson。Thegreatmajorityofpeoplearealwaysinclinedtorunwiththehounds;thepressure’sgreatjustnow;thepackspirit’sintheair。"

Piersonshookhishead。"No，Icannotseeit，"herepeated;"itseemstomethatweareallmorebrotherly，andmoretolerant。"

"Ah！monsieurlecure，"Fortheardthepaintersayverygently，"itisdifficultforagoodmantoseetheevilroundhim。Therearethosewhomtheworld’smarchleavesapart，andrealitycannottouch。

TheywalkwithGod，andthebestialitiesofusanimalsarefantastictothem。Thespiritofthepack，asmonsieursays，isintheair。I

seeallhumannaturenow，runningwithgapingmouthsandredtongueslollingout，theirbreathandtheircriesspoutingthickbeforethem。

Onwhomtheywillfallnext——oneneverknows;theinnocentwiththeguilty。Perhapsifyouweretoseesomeonedeartoyoudevouredbeforeyoureyes，monsieurlecure，youwouldfeelittoo;andyetI

donotknow。"

FortsawNoelturnherfacetowardsherfather;herexpressionatthatmomentwasverystrange，searching，halffrightened。No！Leilahadnotlied，andhehadnotdreamed！Thatthingwastrue！

Whenpresentlyhetookhisleave，andwasoutagainintheSquare，hecouldseenothingbutherfaceandformbeforehiminthemoonlight:

itssoftoutline，faircolouring，slenderdelicacy，andthebroodingofthebiggreyeyes。HehadalreadycrossedNewOxfordStreetandwassomewaydowntowardstheStrand，whenavoicebehindhimmurmured:"Ah！c’estvous，monsieur！"andthepainterloomedupathiselbow。

"Areyougoingmyway？"saidFort。"Igoslowly，I’mafraid。"

"Theslowerthebetter，monsieur。Londonissobeautifulinthedark。Itisthedespairofthepainter——thesemoonlitnights。Therearemomentswhenonefeelsthatrealitydoesnotexist。Allisindreams——likethefaceofthatyounglady。"

Fortstaredsharplyroundathim。"Oh！Shestrikesyoulikethat，doesshe？"

"Ah！Whatacharmingfigure！Whatanatmosphereofthepastandfutureroundher！Andshewillnotletmepainther！Well，perhapsonlyMathieuMaris"HeraisedhisbroadBohemianhat，andranhisfingersthroughhishair。

"Yes，"saidFort，"she’dmakeawonderfulpicture。I’mnotajudgeofArt，butIcanseethat。"

Thepaintersmiled，andwentoninhisrapidFrench:

"Shehasyouthandageallatonce——thatisrare。Herfatherisaninterestingman，too;Iamtryingtopainthim;heisverydifficult。

Hesitslostinsomekindofvacancyofhisown;amanwhosesoulhasgonebeforehimsomewhere，likethatofhisChurch，escapedfromthisageofmachines，leavingitsbodybehind——isitnot？Heissokind;

asaint，Ithink。TheotherclergymenIseepassinginthestreetarenotatalllikehim;theylookbuttoned—upandbusy，withfacesofmenwhomightbeschoolmastersorlawyers，orevensoldiers——menofthisworld。Doyouknowthis，monsieur——itisironical，butitistrue，Ithinkamancannotbeasuccessfulpriestunlessheisamanofthisworld。IdonotseeanywiththatlookofMonsieurPierson，alittletorturedwithin，andnotquitepresent。Heishalfanartist，reallyaloverofmusic，thatman。Iampaintinghimatthepiano;whenheisplayinghisfaceisalive，buteventhen，sofaraway。Tome，monsieur，heisexactlylikeabeautifulchurchwhichknowsitisbeingdeserted。Ifindhimpathetic。Jesuissocialiste，butIhavealwaysanaestheticadmirationforthatoldChurch，whichhelditschildrenbysimpleemotion。Thetimeshavechanged;itcannolongerholdthemso;itstandsinthedusk，withitsspiretoaheavenwhichexistsnomore，itsbells，stillbeautifulbutoutoftunewiththemusicofthestreets。ItissomethingofthatwhichIwishtogetintomypictureofMonsieurPierson;andsapristi！itisdifficult！"Fortgruntedassent。Sofarashecouldmakeoutthepainter’swords，itseemedtohimalargeorder。

"Todoit，yousee，"wentonthepainter，"oneshouldhavetheproperbackground——thesecurrentsofmodernlifeandmoderntypes，passinghimandleavinghimuntouched。Thereisnoillusion，andnodreaming，inmodernlife。Lookatthisstreet。La，la！"

InthedarkenedStrand，hundredsofkhaki—cladfiguresandgirlswerestreamingby，andalltheirvoiceshadahard，half—jovialvulgarity。

Themotor—cabsandbusespushedalongremorselessly;newspaper—

sellersmutteredtheirceaselessinvitations。Againthepaintermadehisgestureofdespair:"HowamItogetintomypicturethismodernlife，whichwashesroundhimasroundthatchurch，there，standinginthemiddleofthestreet？Seehowthecurrentssweeproundit，asiftowashitaway;yetitstands，seemingnottoseethem。IfIwereaphantasist，itwouldbeeasyenough:buttobeaphantasististoosimpleforme——thoseromanticgentlemenbringwhattheylikefromanywhere，toservetheirends。Moi，jesuisrealiste。Andso，monsieur，Ihaveinventedanidea。Iampaintingoverhisheadwhilehesitsthereatthepianoapicturehangingonthewall——ofoneoftheseyoungtowngirlswhohavenomysteriousnessatall，noyouth;

nothingbutacheapknowledgeanddefiance，andgoodhumour。Heislookingupatit，buthedoesnotseeit。Iwillmakethefaceofthatgirlthefaceofmodernlife，andheshallsitstaringatit，seeingnothing。Whatdoyouthinkofmyidea？"

ButForthadbeguntofeelsomethingoftherevoltwhichthemanofactionsosoonexperienceswhenhelistenstoanartisttalking。

"Itsoundsallright，"hesaidabruptly;"allthesame，monsieur，allmysympathyiswithmodernlife。Taketheseyounggirls，andtheseTommies。Foralltheirfeather—patedvulgarityandtheyaredamnedvulgar，Imustsay——they’remarvellouspeople;theydotaketheroughwiththesmooth;they’reall’doingtheirbit，’youknow，andfacingthisparticularlybeastlyworld。Aesthetically，Idaresay，they’redeplorable，butcanyousaythatonthewholetheirphilosophyisn’tanadvanceonanythingwe’vehaduptillnow？Theyworshipnothing，it’strue;buttheykeeptheirendsupmarvellously。"

Thepainter，whoseemedtofeelthewindblowingcoldonhisideas，shruggedhisshoulders。

"Iamnotconcernedwiththat，monsieur;IsetdownwhatIsee;

betterorworse，Idonotknow。Butlookatthis！"Andhepointeddownthedarkenedandmoonlitstreet。Itwasalljewelledandenamelledwithlittlespotsandsplashesofsubduedredandgreen—

bluelight，andthedownwardorangeglowofthehighlamps——likeanenchanteddream—streetpeopledbycountlessmovingshapes，whichonlycametoearth—realitywhenseencloseto。Thepainterdrewhisbreathinwithahiss。