the lesson of the master-第4章

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expression　of　gaiety　excited；　he　made　out；　very　much　the　private

protest　of　a　person　sitting　gratefully　in　the　twilight　when　the

lamp　is　brought　in　too　soon。　　His　second　reflexion　was　that；　though

generally　averse　to　the　flagrant　use　of　ingratiating　arts　by　a　man

of　age　〃making　up〃　to　a　pretty　girl；　he　was　not　in　this　case　too

painfully　affected：　　which　seemed　to　prove　either　that　St。　George

had　a　light　hand　or　the　air　of　being　younger　than　he　was；　or　else

that　Miss　Fancourt's　own　manner　somehow　made　everything　right。



Overt　walked　with　her　into　the　gallery；　and　they　strolled　to　the

end　of　it；　looking　at　the　pictures；　the　cabinets；　the　charming

vista；　which　harmonised　with　the　prospect　of　the　summer　afternoon；

resembling　it　by　a　long　brightness；　with　great　divans　and　old

chairs　that　figured　hours　of　rest。　　Such　a　place　as　that　had　the

added　merit　of　giving　those　who　came　into　it　plenty　to　talk　about。

Miss　Fancourt　sat　down　with　her　new　acquaintance　on　a　flowered

sofa；　the　cushions　of　which；　very　numerous；　were　tight　ancient

cubes　of　many　sizes；　and　presently　said：　　〃I'm　so　glad　to　have　a

chance　to　thank　you。〃



〃To　thank　me　…　？〃　　He　had　to　wonder。



〃I　liked　your　book　so　much。　　I　think　it　splendid。〃



She　sat　there　smiling　at　him；　and　he　never　asked　himself　which　book

she　meant；　for　after　all　he　had　written　three　or　four。　　That　seemed

a　vulgar　detail；　and　he　wasn't　even　gratified　by　the　idea　of　the

pleasure　she　told　him　…　her　handsome　bright　face　told　him　…　he　had

given　her。　　The　feeling　she　appealed　to；　or　at　any　rate　the　feeling

she　excited；　was　something　larger；　something　that　had　little　to　do

with　any　quickened　pulsation　of　his　own　vanity。　　It　was　responsive

admiration　of　the　life　she　embodied；　the　young　purity　and　richness

of　which　appeared　to　imply　that　real　success　was　to　resemble　THAT；

to　live；　to　bloom；　to　present　the　perfection　of　a　fine　type；　not　to

have　hammered　out　headachy　fancies　with　a　bent　back　at　an　ink…

stained　table。　　While　her　grey　eyes　rested　on　him　…　there　was　a

wideish　space　between　these；　and　the　division　of　her　rich…coloured

hair；　so　thick　that　it　ventured　to　be　smooth；　made　a　free　arch

above　them　…　he　was　almost　ashamed　of　that　exercise　of　the　pen

which　it　was　her　present　inclination　to　commend。　　He　was　conscious

he　should　have　liked　better　to　please　her　in　some　other　way。　　The

lines　of　her　face　were　those　of　a　woman　grown；　but　the　child

lingered　on　in　her　complexion　and　in　the　sweetness　of　her　mouth。

Above　all　she　was　natural　…　that　was　indubitable　now；　more　natural

than　he　had　supposed　at　first；　perhaps　on　account　of　her　aesthetic

toggery；　which　was　conventionally　unconventional；　suggesting　what

he　might　have　called　a　tortuous　spontaneity。　　He　had　feared　that

sort　of　thing　in　other　cases；　and　his　fears　had　been　justified；

for；　though　he　was　an　artist　to　the　essence；　the　modern　reactionary

nymph；　with　the　brambles　of　the　woodland　caught　in　her　folds　and　a

look　as　if　the　satyrs　had　toyed　with　her　hair；　made　him　shrink　not

as　a　man　of　starch　and　patent　leather；　but　as　a　man　potentially

himself　a　poet　or　even　a　faun。　　The　girl　was　really　more　candid

than　her　costume；　and　the　best　proof　of　it　was　her　supposing　her

liberal　character　suited　by　any　uniform。　　This　was　a　fallacy；　since

if　she　was　draped　as　a　pessimist　he　was　sure　she　liked　the　taste　of

life。　　He　thanked　her　for　her　appreciation　…　aware　at　the　same　time

that　he　didn't　appear　to　thank　her　enough　and　that　she　might　think

him　ungracious。　　He　was　afraid　she　would　ask　him　to　explain

something　he　had　written；　and　he　always　winced　at　that　…　perhaps

too　timidly　…　for　to　his　own　ear　the　explanation　of　a　work　of　art

sounded　fatuous。　　But　he　liked　her　so　much　as　to　feel　a　confidence

that　in　the　long　run　he　should　be　able　to　show　her　he　wasn't　rudely

evasive。　　Moreover　she　surely　wasn't　quick　to　take　offence；　wasn't

irritable；　she　could　be　trusted　to　wait。　　So　when　he　said　to　her；

〃Ah　don't　talk　of　anything　I've　done；　don't　talk　of　it　HERE；

there's　another　man　in　the　house　who's　the　actuality！〃　…　when　he

uttered　this　short　sincere　protest　it　was　with　the　sense　that　she

would　see　in　the　words　neither　mock　humility　nor　the　impatience　of

a　successful　man　bored　with　praise。



〃You　mean　Mr。　St。　George　…　isn't　he　delightful？〃



Paul　Overt　met　her　eyes；　which　had　a　cool　morning…light　that　would

have　half…broken　his　heart　if　he　hadn't　been　so　young。　　〃Alas　I

don't　know　him。　　I　only　admire　him　at　a　distance。〃



〃Oh　you　must　know　him　…　he　wants　so　to　talk　to　you；〃　returned　Miss

Fancourt；　who　evidently　had　the　habit　of　saying　the　things　that；　by

her　quick　calculation；　would　give　people　pleasure。　　Paul　saw　how

she　would　always　calculate　on　everything's　being　simple　between

others。



〃I　shouldn't　have　supposed　he　knew　anything　about　me；〃　he

professed。



〃He　does　then　…　everything。　　And　if　he　didn't　I　should　be　able　to

tell　him。〃



〃To　tell　him　everything？〃　our　friend　smiled。



〃You　talk　just　like　the　people　in　your　book！〃　she　answered。



〃Then　they　must　all　talk　alike。〃



She　thought　a　moment；　not　a　bit　disconcerted。　　〃Well；　it　must　be　so

difficult。　　Mr。　St。　George　tells　me　it　IS　…　terribly。　　I've　tried

too　…　and　I　find　it　so。　　I've　tried　to　write　a　novel。〃



〃Mr。　St。　George　oughtn't　to　discourage　you；〃　Paul　went　so　far　as　to

say。



〃You　do　much　more　…　when　you　wear　that　expression。〃



〃Well；　after　all；　why　try　to　be　an　artist？〃　the　young　man　pursued。

〃It's　so　poor　…　so　poor！〃



〃I　don't　know　what　you　mean；〃　said　Miss　Fancourt；　who　looked　grave。



〃I　mean　as　compared　with　being　a　person　of　action　…　as　living　your

works。〃



〃But　what's　art　but　an　intense　life　…　if　it　be　real？〃　she　asked。

〃I　think　it's　the　only　one　…　everything　else　is　so　clumsy！〃　　Her

companion　laughed；　and　she　brought　out　with　her　charming　serenity

what　next　struck　her。　　〃It's　so　interesting　to　meet　so　many

celebrated　people。〃



〃So　I　should　think　…　but　surely　it　isn't　new　to　you。〃



〃Why　I've　never　seen　any　one　…　any　one：　　living　always　in　Asia。〃



The　way　she　talked　of　Asia　somehow　enchanted　him。　　〃But　doesn't

that　continent　swarm　with　great　figures？　　Haven't　you　administered

provinces　in　India　and　had　captive　rajahs　and　tributary　princes

chained　to　your　car？〃



It　was　as　if　she　didn't　care　even　SHOULD　he　amuse　himself　at　her

cost。　　〃I　was　with　my　father；　after　I　left　school　to　go　out　there。

It　was　delightful　being　with　him　…　we're　alone　together　in　the

world；　he　and　I　…　but　there　was　none　of　the　society　I　like　best。

One　never　heard　of　a　picture　…　never　of　a　book；　except　bad　ones。〃



〃Never　of　a　picture？　　Why；　wasn't　all　life　a　picture？〃



She　looked　over　the　delightful　place　where　they　sat。　　〃Nothing　to

compare　to　this。　　I　adore　England！〃　she　cried。



It　fairly　stirred　in　him　the　sacred　chord。　　〃Ah　of　course　I　don't

deny　that　we　must　do　something　with　her；　poor　old　dear；　yet。〃



〃She　hasn't　been　touched；　really；〃　said　the　girl。



〃Did　Mr。　St。　George　say　that？〃



There　was　a　small　and；　as　he　felt；　harmless　spark　of　irony　in　his

question；　which；　however；　she　answered　very　simply；　not　noticing

the　insinuation。　　〃Yes；　he　says　England　hasn't　been　touched　…　not

considering　all　there　is；〃　she　went　on　eagerly。　　〃He's　so

interesting　about　our　country。　　To　listen　to　him　makes　one　want　so

to　do　something。〃



〃It　would　make　ME　want　to；〃　said　Paul　Overt；　feeling　strongly；　on

the　instant；　the　suggestion　of　what　she　said　and　that　of　the

emotion　with　which　she　said　it；　and　well　aware　of　what　an

incentive；　on　St。　George's　lips；　such　a　speech　might　be。



〃Oh　you　…　as　if　you　hadn't！　　I　should　like　so　to　hear　you　talk

together；〃　she　added　ardently。



〃That's　very　genial　of　you；　but　he'd　have　it　all　his　own　way。　　I'm

prostrate　before　him。〃



She　had　an　air　of　earnestness。　　〃Do　you　think　then　he's　so

perfect？〃



〃Far　from　it。　　Some　of　his　later　books　seem　to　me　of　a　qu