Max

of youth, the faith in his mystic star that abides in the heart of the artist. In that moment of confession the individuality of the boy was submerged in his amb

curious unnamable feeling thrilled him-a sense of

the cruellest. Failure may be cruel, but success is crueller still. The gods ar

lying unconsciously

but it does no

care! The gods ar

at. I am n

road do you follow-music? literature? Art of

boy's eyes. He snatched his h

will sh

ocket, pushed aside his coffee-cup, and began to draw upon the

rooping across his forehead; then he looked up, throwing himself back in his chair and gazing up at his companion wi

ok, now,

was known by him and liked, but he rose and came round the table with a certain

denly he laid his hand on his shoulder a

er! I'm a Dutchman, if this isn't the real thing!

anding back from an easel, a palette in his left hand, a brush in his right, his hair unkempt, his whole attitude comically suggestive of an art

or it. But, look here, we must toast this first attempt! Madame! M

randy-very old? I have discov

ieur! A cognac of th

glasses-no, bring three glasses!

nd excited, and again the Iris

u a slip of a boy with a head full of notions, and what do I find but that it's a

of his companions. As madame came back, gasping in her haste, he ran to meet

an-therefore an artist. Tell

s if not his words. Full of curiosity she bent over the boy's shoulder,

from one of her customers to the other. 'If monsieur would but put his name to this picture she

ck here and laugh and cry over this, and say, 'God be with the youth

IS IS CLEVER-

s face was aglow, there were

so happy in my life." And, bending over his sketch, he wrot

his shoulder. "Max!" she

at they call you? Max! Well, let's drink to it!

wn from here to the back of God's speed!" He

smiled. "A great future, mo

His heart felt strangely full, the tears i

! Up with

excuse me! My heart is v

se, boy

little with nervous haste, coughing as he laid his glass d

you may have advanced ideas-but, for all that, you're only out of the nursery! It's for m

alculation, then she decorously m

e, and, slipping his arm again through the b

ng hospitality! Give my respects to monsieur,

into the fresh and frosty air, and in

murmured. "It is too much-

"Aren't we citizens of a free world? Must I know a man for years before I can call him my friend? And must every

certain grave simplicit

dispelled. "Forgive! Nonsense! Tel

in. I shall rent a studio here i

stud

." He took no notice of the other's raised eyebrows. "I want

our basis-the search for the ide

splendid! Where must it begin? Not in fash

ed in loud disdain. "Oh no! For us it m

. The highways and the byways. It is necessary that I am very solit

ll me, shall it be the highways or the

ecisively. "

ow Mont

N

the right spirit! Always know your own mind, whatever else you're ignorant about!

edy fellow-countrymen wil

coast is clear! I only

." For an instant the old

You're not! I see through you like a pane of glass. Sometimes you forget yourself and get natural, like you did in the café this time back; then, all of a sudden, some imp

"Monsieur," he said, na?vel

world, and enough money to prevent his doing any special good. My name is Edward Fitzgerald Blake, and I have an old barracks of a castle in County Clare. I have five aunts, seven uncles, and twenty-four first co

. "Thank yo

oodness' sake! Plain N

coupled with the foreign intona

down to earth again, I have an appointment with our friend McCutcheon at three o'clock." He drew out his watch. "Oh, by the powers and dominations, I have only two minutes to

ey zigzagged through the labyrinth of formal trees, a

ep of the cab, his fingers on the handle of the door, his face, flushed from his run and fro

e. But I-I want to see

ght?" The cab was snorting impatience; B

olored. "

! To-night we'll scale the h

y. "You have not ask

ght of it!

leux, in the ru

for the day, eh? Well, I'll be outside the

ck. I shall be

od-bye! It's bee

something of the sun's brightness, something of

d morning. I shall

ay that, boy! We'll ous

ur. There was a moment's pause, a rasp and wrench of machinery

fair, cold face of Paris had been immobile and speculative. Now a miracle had come to pass; the coldness had been