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ago。〃
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〃That's it。 He's a great artist。〃
〃Impossible。〃
〃Have I ever been mistaken？〃 Dirk asked me。 〃I tell you he has
genius。 I'm convinced of it。 In a hundred years； if you and I are
remembered at all； it will be because we knew Charles Strickland。〃
I was astonished； and at the same time I was very much excited。 I
remembered suddenly my last talk with him。
〃Where can one see his work？〃 I asked。 〃Is he having any success？
Where is he living？〃
〃No； he has no success。 I don't think he's ever sold a picture。 When
you speak to men about him they only laugh。 But I he's a great
artist。 After all； they laughed at Manet。 Corot never sold a picture。 I
don't know where he lives； but I can take you to see him。 He goes to a
cafe in the Avenue de Clichy at seven o'clock every evening。 If you like
we'll go there to…morrow。〃
〃I'm not sure if he'll wish to see me。 I think I may remind him of a
time he prefers to forget。 But I'll come all the same。 Is there any chance
of seeing any of his pictures？〃
〃Not from him。 He won't show you a thing。 There's a little dealer I
know who has two or three。 But you mustn't go without me； you
wouldn't understand。 I must show them to you myself。〃
〃Dirk； you make me impatient；〃 said Mrs。 Stroeve。 〃How can you
talk like that about his pictures when he treated you as he did？〃 She turned
to me。 〃Do you know； when some Dutch people came here to buy Dirk's
pictures he tried to persuade them to buy Strickland's？ He insisted on
bringing them here to show。〃
〃What did think of them？〃 I asked her； smiling。
〃They were awful。〃
〃Ah； sweetheart； you don't understand。〃
〃Well； your Dutch people were furious with you。 They thought you
were having a joke with them。〃
Dirk Stroeve took off his spectacles and wiped them。 His flushed
face was shining with excitement。
〃Why should you think that beauty； which is the most precious thing in
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the world； lies like a stone on the beach for the careless passer…by to pick
up idly？ Beauty is something wonderful and strange that the artist
fashions out of the chaos of the world in the torment of his soul。 And
when he has made it； it is not given to all to know it。 To recognize it you
must repeat the adventure of the artist。 It is a melody that he sings to you；
and to hear it again in your own heart you want knowledge and
sensitiveness and imagination。〃
〃Why did I always think your pictures beautiful； Dirk？ I admired them
the very first time I saw them。〃
Stroeve's lips trembled a little。
〃Go to bed； my precious。 I will walk a few steps with our friend； and
then I will come back。〃
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Chapter XX
Dirk Stroeve agreed to fetch me on the following evening and take
me to the cafe at which Strickland was most likely to be found。 I was
interested to learn that it was the same as that at which Strickland and I
had drunk absinthe when I had gone over to Paris to see him。 The fact
that he had never changed suggested a sluggishness of habit which seemed
to me characteristic。
〃There he is；〃 said Stroeve； as we reached the cafe。
Though it was October； the evening was warm； and the tables on the
pavement were crowded。 I ran my eyes over them； but did not see
Strickland。
〃Look。 Over there； in the corner。 He's playing chess。〃
I noticed a man bending over a chess…board； but could see only a large
felt hat and a red beard。 We threaded our way among the tables till we
came to him。
〃Strickland。〃
He looked up。
〃Hulloa； fatty。 What do you want？〃
〃I've brought an old friend to see you。〃
Strickland gave me a glance； and evidently did not recognise me。 He
resumed his scrutiny of the chessboard。
〃Sit down； and don't make a noise；〃 he said。
He moved a piece and straightway became absorbed in the game。 Poor
Stroeve gave me a troubled look； but I was not disconcerted by so little。
I ordered something to drink； and waited quietly till Strickland had
finished。 I welcomed the opportunity to examine him at my ease。 I
certainly should never have known him。 In the first place his red beard；
ragged and untrimmed； hid much of his face； and his hair was long； but the
most surprising change in him was his extreme thinness。 It made his great
nose protrude more arrogantly； it emphasized his cheekbones； it made his
eyes seem larger。 There were deep hollows at his temples。 His body was
cadaverous。 He wore the same suit that I had seen him in five years before；
it was torn and stained； threadbare； and it hung upon him loosely； as
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though it had been made for someone else。 I noticed his hands； dirty； with
long nails； they were merely bone and sinew； large and strong； but I had
forgotten that they were so shapely。 He gave me an extraordinary
impression as he sat there； his attention riveted on his game an
impression of great strength； and I could not understand why it was that
his emaciation somehow made it more striking。
Presently； after moving； he leaned back and gazed with a curious
abstraction at his antagonist。 This was a fat； bearded Frenchman。 The
Frenchman considered the position； then broke suddenly into jovial
expletives； and with an impatient gesture； gathering up the pieces； flung
them into their box。 He cursed Strickland freely； then； calling for the
waiter； paid for the drinks； and left。 Stroeve drew his chair closer to the
table。
〃Now I suppose we can talk；〃 he said。
Strickland's eyes rested on him； and there was in them a malicious
expression。 I felt sure he was seeking for some gibe； could think of none；
and so was forced to silence。
〃I've brought an old friend to see you；〃 repeated Stroeve； beaming
cheerfully。
Strickland looked at me thoughtfully for nearly a minute。 I did not
speak。
〃I've never seen him in my life；〃 he said。
I do not know why he said this； for I felt certain I had caught a gleam
of recognition in his eyes。 I was not so easily abashed as I had been
some years earlier。
〃I saw your wife the other day；〃 I said。 〃I felt sure you'd like to have
the latest news of her。〃
He gave a short laugh。 His eyes twinkled。
〃We had a jolly evening together；〃 he said。 〃How long ago is it？〃
〃Five years。〃
He called for another absinthe。 Stroeve； with voluble tongue；
explained how he and I had met； and by what an accident we discovered
that we both knew Strickland。 I do not know if Strickland listened。 He
glanced at me once or twice reflectively； but for the most part seemed
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occupied with his own thoughts； and certainly without Stroeve's babble the
conversation would have been difficult。 In half an hour the Dutchman；
looking at his watch； announced that he must go。 He asked whether I
would come too。 I thought； alone； I might get something out of
Strickland； and so answered that I would stay。
When the fat man had left I said：
〃Dirk Stroeve thinks you're a great artist。〃
〃What the hell do you suppose I care？〃
〃Will you let me see your pictures？〃
〃Why should I？〃
〃I might feel inclined to buy one。〃
〃I mig