, to rush away--away into some desert place,
and to be alone.

"Who says such things? No; but you look it, you look it."

"I can't help--how would you have me look?"

"Now, my boy, don't get angry!"

"Claudie, we all only want--"

"I know--I know!"

He clenched his wet hands.

"Well, tell me what you want, all you want, and I'll try to do it."

"That's talking!" cried Crayford. "Now, from this moment we know what
we're up against. And I'll tell you what. Sitting here as we are, in
this one-horse heat next door but one to Hell--don't mind me, little
lady! I'll stop right there!--we're getting on to something that's going
to astonish the world. I know what I'm talking about--'s going to
astonish--the--world! And now we'll start right in to hit the center!"

And from that moment they started in. Once Claude had given way he made
no further resistance. He talked, discussed, tried sometimes, rather
feebly, to put forward his views. But he was letting himself go with the
tide, and he knew it. He secretly despised himself. Yet there were
moments when he was carried away by a sort of spurious enthusiasm, when
the desire for fame, for wide success, glowed in him; not at all as it
glowed in Charmian, yet with a warmth that cheered him. Out of this
opera, now that it was being "made over" by Jacob Crayford, with his own
consent, he desired only the one thing, popular success. It was not his
own child. And in art he did not know how to share. He could only be
really enthusiastic, enthusiastic in the soul of him, when the thing he
had created was his alone. So now, leaving aside all question of that
narrow but profound success, which repays every man who does exactly
what the best part of him has willed to do, Claude strove to fasten all
his desire on a wide and perhaps shallow success.

And sometimes he was able, helped by the enthusiasm--a genuine
enthusiasm--of his three companions, to be almost gay and hopeful, to be
carried on by their hopes.

As his enthusiasm of the soul died Jacob Crayford's was born; for where
Claude lost he gained. He was now assisting to make an opera; with every
day his fondness for the work increased. Although he could be hard and
business-like, he could also be affectionate and eager. Now that Claude
had given in to him he became almost paternal. He was a sort of "Padre
eterno" in Djenan-el-Maqui, and he thoroughly enjoyed his position. The
more he did to the opera, in the way of suggestio