Part 22 (2/2)

And----'

'It's this,' said the red-haired girl behind him. 'I was reading it to Maisie the other day from The City of Dreadful Night. D'you know the book?'

'A little. I am sorry I spoke. There are pictures in it. What has taken her fancy?'

'The description of the Melancolia--

'Her folded wings as of a mighty eagle, But all too impotent to lift the regal Robustness of her earth-born strength and pride.

And here again. (Maisie, get the tea, dear.)

'The forehead charged with baleful thoughts and dreams, The household bunch of keys, the housewife's gown, Voluminous indented, and yet rigid As though a sh.e.l.l of burnished metal frigid, Her feet thick-shod to tread all weakness down.'

There was no attempt to conceal the scorn of the lazy voice. d.i.c.k winced.

'But that has been done already by an obscure artist by the name of Durer,' said he. 'How does the poem run?--

'Three centuries and threescore years ago, With phantasies of his peculiar thought.

You might as well try to rewrite Hamlet. It will be a waste of time.

'No, it won't,' said Maisie, putting down the teacups with a clatter to rea.s.sure herself. 'And I mean to do it. Can't you see what a beautiful thing it would make?'

'How in perdition can one do work when one hasn't had the proper training? Any fool can get a notion. It needs training to drive the thing through,--training and conviction; not rus.h.i.+ng after the first fancy.' d.i.c.k spoke between his teeth.

'You don't understand,' said Maisie. 'I think I can do it.'

Again the voice of the girl behind him--

'Baffled and beaten back, she works on still; Weary and sick of soul, she works the more.

Sustained by her indomitable will, The hands shall fas.h.i.+on, and the brain shall pore, And all her sorrow shall be turned to labour---- I fancy Maisie means to embody herself in the picture.'

'Sitting on a throne of rejected pictures? No, I shan't, dear. The notion in itself has fascinated me.--Of course you don't care for fancy heads, d.i.c.k.

I don't think you could do them. You like blood and bones.'

'That's a direct challenge. If you can do a Melancolia that isn't merely a sorrowful female head, I can do a better one; and I will, too. What d'you know about Melacolias?' d.i.c.k firmly believed that he was even then tasting three-quarters of all the sorrow in the world.

'She was a woman,' said Maisie, 'and she suffered a great deal,--till she could suffer no more. Then she began to laugh at it all, and then I painted her and sent her to the Salon.'

The red-haired girl rose up and left the room, laughing.

d.i.c.k looked at Maisie humbly and hopelessly.

'Never mind about the picture,' he said. 'Are you really going back to Kami's for a month before your time?'

'I must, if I want to get the picture done.'

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