the sculptor, "it's a

r the Sphinx that was looking at him from its corn

sterday stare at us l

it would be unnatural. The skies above us and the earth underfoot are in perpetual motion. Each a

the sculptor, "as if thou

der favorabl

go? Surely they can

er, it is not a question. Nothing is

st, "is the particular re

or replied; "I had a str

o Reginald, "the Narcissus I was working on

impressed me very much, though I

me eight thousand dollars for it. I had an absolutely original concep

very regr

say so," repli

troubles. Having twice figured in the divorce court, he

t was lying before him. Like all artists, something of a madman and something of a child, he at first glanced over its

e cried. "Wh

h Revolution," Reginald re

w that I have discove

king first at Reginald and then at Wa

ste

se measured cadence delighted Ernest's ear, without, however, enl

am in his eye showed that this tim

ss of making clear his mea

ar music; I see it rise with domes and spires, with painted windows and Arabesques. The scent of the rose is to me tangible. I can almost feel it with my

murmured Reginald. "I

fantastic?" remarked Ernest,

ous strata of my mind while I was writing this passage. And surely it would

be able to read beneath and between our lines, not onl

oubt

unconscious of our state of mind? Tha

f-course that every mind-movement below or above the threshold of consciousness must, of a

olerably dull to the majority, delight th

e once laid down a discussion on higher mathematics and blushed fearfully when h

retly possess the power of scattering in young

echerous text-book of the calculus, or of a reporter's story of a picnic in which burnt, under