the lesson of the master-第3节

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one　even　talks　with　them；　but　to　find　out　what　they　DO　one　would

really　have　to　be　a　detective。〃　　In　respect　to　several　individuals

whose　work　he　was　the　opposite　of　〃drawn　to〃　…　perhaps　he　was　wrong

…　he　found　himself　adding　〃No　wonder　they　conceal　it　…　when　it's　so

bad！〃　　He　noted　that　oftener　than　in　France　and　in　Germany　his

artist　looked　like　a　gentleman　…　that　is　like　an　English　one　…

while；　certainly　outside　a　few　exceptions；　his　gentlemen　didn't

look　like　an　artist。　　St。　George　was　not　one　of　the　exceptions；

that　circumstance　he　definitely　apprehended　before　the　great　man

had　turned　his　back　to　walk　off　with　Miss　Fancourt。　　He　certainly

looked　better　behind　than　any　foreign　man　of　letters　…　showed　for

beautifully　correct　in　his　tall　black　hat　and　his　superior　frock

coat。　　Somehow；　all　the　same；　these　very　garments　…　he　wouldn't

have　minded　them　so　much　on　a　weekday　…　were　disconcerting　to　Paul

Overt；　who　forgot　for　the　moment　that　the　head　of　the　profession

was　not　a　bit　better　dressed　than　himself。　　He　had　caught　a　glimpse

of　a　regular　face；　a　fresh　colour；　a　brown　moustache　and　a　pair　of

eyes　surely　never　visited　by　a　fine　frenzy；　and　he　promised　himself

to　study　these　denotements　on　the　first　occasion。　　His　superficial

sense　was　that　their　owner　might　have　passed　for　a　lucky

stockbroker　…　a　gentleman　driving　eastward　every　morning　from　a

sanitary　suburb　in　a　smart　dog…cart。　　That　carried　out　the

impression　already　derived　from　his　wife。　　Paul's　glance；　after　a

moment；　travelled　back　to　this　lady；　and　he　saw　how　her　own　had

followed　her　husband　as　he　moved　off　with　Miss　Fancourt。　　Overt

permitted　himself　to　wonder　a　little　if　she　were　jealous　when

another　woman　took　him　away。　　Then　he　made　out　that　Mrs。　St。　George

wasn't　glaring　at　the　indifferent　maiden。　　Her　eyes　rested　but　on

her　husband；　and　with　unmistakeable　serenity。　　That　was　the　way　she

wanted　him　to　be　…　　she　liked　his　conventional　uniform。　　Overt

longed　to　hear　more　about　the　book　she　had　induced　him　to　destroy。







CHAPTER　II







As　they　all　came　out　from　luncheon　General　Fancourt　took　hold　of

him　with　an　〃I　say；　I　want　you　to　know　my　girl！〃　as　if　the　idea　had

just　occurred　to　him　and　he　hadn't　spoken　of　it　before。　　With　the

other　hand　he　possessed　himself　all　paternally　of　the　young　lady。

〃You　know　all　about　him。　　I've　seen　you　with　his　books。　　She　reads

everything　…　everything！〃　he　went　on　to　Paul。　　The　girl　smiled　at

him　and　then　laughed　at　her　father。　　The　General　turned　away　and

his　daughter　spoke　…　〃Isn't　papa　delightful？〃



〃He　is　indeed；　Miss　Fancourt。〃



〃As　if　I　read　you　because　I　read　'everything'！〃



〃Oh　I　don't　mean　for　saying　that；〃　said　Paul　Overt。　　〃I　liked　him

from　the　moment　he　began　to　be　kind　to　me。　　Then　he　promised　me

this　privilege。〃



〃It　isn't　for　you　he　means　it　…　it's　for　me。　　If　you　flatter

yourself　that　he　thinks　of　anything　in　life　but　me　you'll　find

you're　mistaken。　　He　introduces　every　one。　　He　thinks　me

insatiable。〃



〃You　speak　just　like　him；〃　laughed　our　youth。



〃Ah　but　sometimes　I　want　to〃　…　and　the　girl　coloured。　　〃I　don't

read　everything　…　I　read　very　little。　　But　I　HAVE　read　you。〃



〃Suppose　we　go　into　the　gallery；〃　said　Paul　Overt。　　She　pleased　him

greatly；　not　so　much　because　of　this　last　remark　…　though　that　of

course　was　not　too　disconcerting　…　as　because；　seated　opposite　to

him　at　luncheon；　she　had　given　him　for　half　an　hour　the　impression

of　her　beautiful　face。　　Something　else　had　come　with　it　…　a　sense

of　generosity；　of　an　enthusiasm　which；　unlike　many　enthusiasms；　was

not　all　manner。　　That　was　not　spoiled　for　him　by　his　seeing　that

the　repast　had　placed　her　again　in　familiar　contact　with　Henry　St。

George。　　Sitting　next　her　this　celebrity　was　also　opposite　our

young　man；　who　had　been　able　to　note　that　he　multiplied　the

attentions　lately　brought　by　his　wife　to　the　General's　notice。

Paul　Overt　had　gathered　as　well　that　this　lady　was　not　in　the　least

discomposed　by　these　fond　excesses　and　that　she　gave　every　sign　of

an　unclouded　spirit。　　She　had　Lord　Masham　on　one　side　of　her　and　on

the　other　the　accomplished　Mr。　Mulliner；　editor　of　the　new　high…

class　lively　evening　paper　which　was　expected　to　meet　a　want　felt

in　circles　increasingly　conscious　that　Conservatism　must　be　made

amusing；　and　unconvinced　when　assured　by　those　of　another　political

colour　that　it　was　already　amusing　enough。　　At　the　end　of　an　hour

spent　in　her　company　Paul　Overt　thought　her　still　prettier　than　at

the　first　radiation；　and　if　her　profane　allusions　to　her　husband's

work　had　not　still　rung　in　his　ears　he　should　have　liked　her　…　so

far　as　it　could　be　a　question　of　that　in　connexion　with　a　woman　to

whom　he　had　not　yet　spoken　and　to　whom　probably　he　should　never

speak　if　it　were　left　to　her。　　Pretty　women　were　a　clear　need　to

this　genius；　and　for　the　hour　it　was　Miss　Fancourt　who　supplied　the

want。　　If　Overt　had　promised　himself　a　closer　view　the　occasion　was

now　of　the　best；　and　it　brought　consequences　felt　by　the　young　man

as　important。　　He　saw　more　in　St。　George's　face；　which　he　liked　the

better　for　its　not　having　told　its　whole　story　in　the　first　three

minutes。　　That　story　came　out　as　one　read；　in　short　instalments　…

it　was　excusable　that　one's　analogies　should　be　somewhat

professional　…　and　the　text　was　a　style　considerably　involved；　a

language　not　easy　to　translate　at　sight。　　There　were　shades　of

meaning　in　it　and　a　vague　perspective　of　history　which　receded　as

you　advanced。　　Two　facts　Paul　had　particularly　heeded。　　The　first

of　these　was　that　he　liked　the　measured　mask　much　better　at

inscrutable　rest　than　in　social　agitation；　its　almost　convulsive

smile　above　all　displeased　him　（as　much　as　any　impression　from　that

source　could）；　whereas　the　quiet　face　had　a　charm　that　grew　in

proportion　as　stillness　settled　again。　　The　change　to　the

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