o see
him there--to be with him there. For he rather put a brake on any
measure of exuberance and momentum which I might have brought to
England with me, and I could only trust that his strait-jacket was
partly unlaced among the French and Italians. I think that likely, for
with them he was, of course, an acknowledged and unmistakable foreigner.
But my fortnight with him was cramped and uncomfortable; and when we
parted at the American Exchange--I for Liverpool and he for Calais--I
confess I had a slight feeling of relief. I felt, too, that my conduct,
however native and unstudied, had pleased the Island quite as well as
his.

At the Exchange itself he never read American newspapers--least of all,
one from his own town. I believe, too, he avoided them on the Continent.
Living a very special life, he meant to keep himself integral,
uncontaminate. And behind us both was the other world, his own, all
vital and astir.

Yes, I am aware that my prose is pedestrian, and that Europe--as it once
was, to us--deserves a brighter and higher note. I will attempt, just
here, a purple patch.

Europe, then,--the beacon, hope, and cynosure of our fresh, ingenuous
youth--the glamorous realm afar which drew to itself from across the sea
our eager artist-bands, pilgrims to the Old, the Stately, and the Fair;
Europe, which reared above our dull horizon the towers of Oxford and of
Notre Dame, sent up into our pale, empty sky the shimmering mirage of
Venice, and cast across our workaday way the grave and noble shadow of
Rome; Europe, which gave out through the varying voices of Correggio,
Canova, Hugo, and Wagner the cry, so lofty and so piercing-sweet, of
Art; Europe, which with titles and insignia and social grandeurs, once
dazzled and bemused our inexperienced senses ... and so on.

Easy!

But worth while?

I shall not attempt to decide.

To-day Europe seems not all we once found it; and we, on the other hand,
have come to be more than some of us at least once figured ourselves. We
are beginning to have glamours and importances of our own.

VI

Raymond lingered on for a year or more in Italy, and came home, as I
have implied, in time for my wedding. He found his native city more
uncouth and unkempt than ever. Such it was, absolutely; and such it was,
relatively, after his years under a more careful and self-respecting
regime. The population was still advancing by leaps and bounds, and
hopeful spirits had formed a One-Million