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that； of temperament；〃 or 〃A matter of the definition of words〃； and
other charming generalities； which sound well； and seem to go far；
and are pleasingly irrefutable。 Sometimes the discussion turned on
Arton points of colour or technique； whether realism was quite
justified； and should we be pre…Raphaelites？ When these discussions
started； Christian's eyes would grow bigger and clearer； with a sort
of shining reasonableness； as though they were trying to see into the
depths。 And Harz would stare at them。 But the look in those eyes
eluded him； as if they had no more meaning than Mrs。 Decie's； which；
with their pale； watchful smile； always seemed saying： 〃Come； let us
take a little intellectual exercise。〃
Greta； pulling Scruff's ears； would gaze up at the speakers； when the
talk was over； she always shook herself。 But if no one came to the
〃sittings；〃 there would sometimes be very earnest； quick talk；
sometimes long silences。
One day Christian said： 〃What is your religion？〃
Harz finished the touch he was putting on the canvas； before he
answered： 〃Roman Catholic； I suppose； I was baptised in that Church。〃
〃I didn't mean that。 Do you believe in a future life？〃
〃Christian；〃 murmured Greta； who was plaiting blades of grass； 〃shall
always want to know what people think about a future life； that is so
funny！〃
〃How can I tell？〃 said Harz； 〃I've never really thought of itnever
had the time。〃
〃How can you help thinking？〃 Christian said： 〃I have toit seems to
me so awful that we might come to an end。〃
She closed her book； and it slipped off her lap。 She went on： 〃There
must be a future life； we're so incomplete。 What's the good of your
work； for instance？ What's the use of developing if you have to
stop？〃
〃I don't know；〃 answered Harz。 〃I don't much care。 All I know is；
I've got to work。〃
〃But why？〃
〃For happinessthe real happiness is fightingthe rest is nothing。
If you have finished a thing； does it ever satisfy you？ You look
forward to the next thing at once； to wait is wretched！〃
Christian clasped her hands behind her neck； sunlight flickered
through the leaves on to the bosom of her dress。
〃Ah！ Stay like that！〃 cried Harz。
She let her eyes rest on his face； swinging her foot a little。
〃You work because you must； but that's not enough。 Why do you feel
you must？ I want to know what's behind。 When I was travelling with
Aunt Constance the winter before last we often talkedI've heard her
discuss it with her friends。 She says we move in circles till we
reach Nirvana。 But last winter I found I couldn't talk to her； it
seemed as if she never really meant anything。 Then I started
readingKant and Hegel〃
〃Ah！〃 put in Harz； 〃if they would teach me to draw better； or to see
a new colour in a flower； or an expression in a face； I would read
them all。〃
Christian leaned forward： 〃It must be right to get as near truth as
possible； every step gained is something。 You believe in truth；
truth is the same as beautythat was what you saidyou try to paint
the truth； you always see the beauty。 But how can we know truth；
unless we know what is at the root of it？〃
〃Ithink；〃 murmured Greta； sotto voce； 〃you see one wayand he sees
anotherbecauseyou are not one person。〃
〃Of course！〃 said Christian impatiently； 〃but why〃
A sound of humming interrupted her。
Nicholas Treffry was coming from the house； holding the Times in one
hand； and a huge meerschaum pipe in the other。
〃Aha！〃 he said to Harz： 〃how goes the picture？〃 and he lowered
himself into a chair。
〃Better to…day； Uncle？〃 said Christian softly。
Mr。 Treffry growled。 〃Confounded humbugs； doctors！〃 he said。 〃Your
father used to swear by them； why； his doctor killed himmade him
drink such a lot of stuff！〃
〃Why then do you have a doctor； Uncle Nic？〃 asked Greta。
Mr。 Treffry looked at her； his eyes twinkled。 〃I don't know； my
dear。 If they get half a chance； they won't let go of you！〃
There had been a gentle breeze all day； but now it had died away； not
a leaf quivered； not a blade of grass was stirring； from the house
were heard faint sounds as of some one playing on a pipe。 A
blackbird came hopping down the path。
〃When you were a boy； did you go after birds' nests； Uncle Nic？〃
Greta whispered。
〃I believe you； Greta。〃 The blackbird hopped into the shrubbery。
〃You frightened him； Uncle Nic！ Papa says that at Schloss Konig；
where he lived when he was young； he would always be after jackdaws'
nests。〃
〃Gammon； Greta。 Your father never took a jackdaw's nest； his legs
are much too round！〃
〃Are you fond of birds； Uncle Nic？〃
〃Ask me another； Greta！ Well； I s'pose so。〃
〃Then why did you go bird…nesting？ I think it is cruel〃
Mr。 Treffry coughed behind his paper： 〃There you have me； Greta；〃 he
remarked。
Harz began to gather his brushes： 〃Thank you；〃 he said； 〃that's all I
can do to…day。〃
〃Can I look？〃 Mr。 Treffry inquired。
〃Certainly！〃
Uncle Nic got up slowly； and stood in front of the picture。 〃When
it's for sale；〃 he said at last； 〃I'll buy it。〃
Harz bowed； but for some reason he felt annoyed； as if he had been
asked to part with something personal。
〃I thank you；〃 he said。 A gong sounded。
〃You'll stay and have a snack with us？〃 said Mr。 Treffry； 〃the
doctor's stopping。〃 Gathering up his paper； he moved off to the
house with his hand on Greta's shoulder； the terrier running in
front。 Harz and Christian were left alone。 He was scraping his
palette； and she was sitting with her elbows resting on her knees；
between them； a gleam of sunlight dyed the path golden。 It was
evening already； the bushes and the flowers； after the day's heat；
were breathing out perfume； the birds had started their evensong。
〃Are you tired of sitting for your portrait； Fraulein Christian？〃
Christian shook her head。
〃I shall get something into it that everybody does not seesomething
behind the surface； that will last。〃
Christian said slowly： 〃That's like a challenge。 You were right when
you said fighting is happinessfor yourself； but not for me。 I'm a
coward。 I hate to hurt people； I like them to like me。 If you had
to do anything that would make them hate you； you would do it all the
same； if it helped your work； that's fineit's what I can't do。
It'sit's everything。 Do you like Uncle Nic？〃
The young painter looked towards the house； where under the veranda
old Nicholas Treffry was still in sight； a smile came on his lips。
〃If I were the finest painter in the world； he wouldn't think
anything of me for it； I'm afraid； but if I could show him handfuls
of big cheques for bad pictures I had painted； he would respect me。〃
She smiled； and said： 〃I love him。〃
〃Then I shall like him；〃 Harz answered simply。
She put her hand out； and her fingers met his。 〃We shall be late；〃
she said； glowing； and catching up her book： 〃I'm always late！〃
VII
There was one other guest at dinner； a well…groomed person with pale；
fattish face； dark eyes； and hair thin on the temples； whose clothes
had a military cut。 He looked like a man fond of ease； who had gone
out of his groove； and collided with life。 Herr Paul introduced him
as Count Mario Sarelli。
Two hanging lamps with crimson shades threw a rosy light over the
table； where； in the centre stood a silver basket； full of irises。
Through the open windows the garden was all clusters of black foliage
in the dying light。 Moths fluttered round the lamps； Greta；
following them with her eyes； gave quite audible sighs of pleasure
when they escaped。 Both girls wore white； and Harz； who sat opposite
Christian； kept looking at her； and wondering why he had not painted
her in that dress。
Mrs。 Decie understood the art of diningthe dinner； ordered by Herr
Paul； was admirable； the servants silent as their； shadows； there was
always a hum of conversation。
Sarelli； who sat on her right hand； seemed to partake of little
except olives； which he dipped into a glass of sherry。 He turned his
black； solemn eyes silently from face to face； now and then asking
the meaning of an English word。 After a discussion on modern Rome；
it was debated whether or no a criminal could be told by the
expression of his face。
〃Crime；〃 said Mrs。 Decie； passing her hand across her brow〃crime is
but the hallmark of strong individuality。〃
Miss Naylor； gushing rather pink； stammered： 〃A great crime must show
itselfa murder。 Why； of course！〃
〃If that were so；〃 said Dawney； 〃we should only have to look about
usno more detectives。〃
Miss Naylor rejoined with slight severity： 〃I cannot conceive that
such a thing can pass the human face by； leaving no impression！〃
Harz said abruptly： 〃There are worse things than murder。〃
〃Ah！ p