had guided me hitherto. To wake her to a sense of the
pleasure and the gifts life holds, without being able to confer
either--that could not be any gain. I merely said:

"And if you give up your life for the sake of this painting, Lucia, is
that fair to me?"

"You would have your work," she answered.

The tone was cold and calm, and she went on sketching.

"Do you think that would console me?"

"I do not think: I am convinced of it. You are a man to whom your work,
your genius, is everything. This holds the first, the ruling place in
your life, and will always do so. I am in the second, I believe; but it
is the second, and the step between is wide. It is quite right it
should be so. I am not complaining, but it is useless to deny that it
is so. Well, when one loses but the second object in one's life--"

A soft smile swept over her face, and she lifted the white lids and
dark lashes--that had been drooped as she looked down at the drawing
paper--with a brilliant, mocking flash in her eyes. I met them, and
though I was not looking at it, but directly back into her eyes, the
whole charming figure forced itself upon my vision. The round throat
and the fine shoulders and the delicate curves of the long figure,
sloping to the waist beneath the white serge bodice. Had she really but
a second place? If I realised at any time I was not to possess her
after all, what then? Should I be consolable? An angry denial leapt to
my lips. There was no question of first or second. These two passions
for this woman and for my own success were coordinate forces, and their
very equality it was that kept me passive, without decisive action
between them.

There was a sort of confusion in my brain--a longing to make some
protestations. The words crowded excitedly to my lips, but I kept them
closed. The conversation was on dangerous, critical ground. If I began
to speak now, in this frame of mind, I did not know what I might say.
My own brain was not sufficiently clear and collected. I did not know
myself quite how far that which she had said was the truth. It is
useless to talk vaguely and at random, or on mere passing sensations of
the moment. Before speaking to another, before entering on a
discussion, one must know exactly what one is saying--be prepared to
act in accordance with every statement, and accept and realise the
responsibility of each word, and all this at that moment I was
not,--far from it. I felt my thoughts disordered