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AN it 'Ca I. it bear it ? ' ’Can what bear what ? ' ' I was ruminating. I thought you had fallen asleep, and I addressed myself." ' Won't you explain ? ' ' The first it is Society, the second is painting. The reflection amplified to meet the needs of your lialf-awake wits is, " Can Society bear painting?" ' ' I should say, No, unless you can devise colours wherewith to paint your picture that will render certain of its deeper shadows and certain of its higher lights invisible to the uncoiTupted.' ' Can you imagine why this is so ? ' ' I suspect it is simply because none of us would bear painting with all our pimples.' ' Quite true, and yet 'twere well we could see our ourselves plain, even though a strict narrative of the passing emotions of a day might make us recoil from our own minds as one might from a monster. I have known men recoil from the honest tell-tale of their own faces in the glass.' ' There is another question — Is it paintable .?' ' Yes, by selection of course. There is enough and to spare of the picturesque in everyday life, in spite of all else, if one were only artist enough to see it and put it down.' ' What a wilderness of commonplace one has to cross to find a gleam of romance ! ' ' Absurd ! Romance is all about us. Next door, across the street, behind almost every window-pane, some romance, comedy, or tragi-coniedy is playing itself out.' ' Have you seen one .'' ' ' Many.' ' Tell me one.' ' 'Twere better you found one for yourself.' II. ' I feel inspired ; the suffocation of the town was overpowering. I am here for breath. Observe the atmospheric effect. I have already achieved meta- morphosis.' ' Your condition is somewhat lively. One would not have gatliered that you had just recovered from the agonies of suffocation, though there is a sus- picion of laughing gas.' ' Well, how grow the cabbages ? " ' The cabbage, you are probably aware, is the fastest of vegetables.' ' So Carlyle. But cabbages are solidly useful.' ' I have done well this season. Not quite paid expenses ; but still well.' ' And the life ? Freedom .?' ' Licence. Ten miles from anywhere. No callers, but a bearable boi-e once in a while, panting, like you, for wholesome inhalation.' ' Ennui ? ' ' None. Sleep like a hog. Live like one for that. Eat, drink, and reflect. Thinking no evil, and com- mitting none.' ' Noble Savage ! Undepraved by Society.' ' So far Rousseauist — so far only. Lah.ser-aller for myself. For others deadly compulsion, when- ever possible.' ' Why so .? ' ' Because, till men are trained to rationality, they must be led, but led rightly.' ' That is, as ymi think, government of the best and wisest ? ' ' So ; but we haven't it. There was the govern- ment of personal prowess, the war chief, the able, then the rule of blood, craft ekeing personal valour, priestly tongue-cunning and sleek adulation; then the money-bag, the rule of the purse, the million versus the million. Millions of coin against millions of souls. We are there now.' ' Is no change possible ? ' ' I wait. When the time comes, I am ready.' ' Fabius ! Does it not strike you, you are waiting for the millennium .?' ' Well, I wait.' ' You are so calmly trustful. Will it come in your time .'' ' ' Who knows ? It may.' ' What is it you expect ? ' ' Gradual enlightenment. Rapid fruition when enlightened.' ' FinaUy .? ' ' Success.' 'How?' ' For mind, power. For the mass, organisation. Tools to those who can use them. Profit to the father of profits — the devil.' ' Pungently put. The frothy champagne of youi- talk reminds me I am vulgarly hungry.' ' We dine in an hour.' ' I wait.' ' You too are a Fabian ! ' ' Alas ! only a spectator. Something cynical, I fear '