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Christian looked up； dropped her eyes again； and said： 〃Will you go
on with the history； Greta？〃
Greta sighed。
〃Yes； I willbut； oh！ Chris； there is the luncheon gong！〃 and she
meekly closed the book。
During the following weeks there was a 〃sitting〃 nearly every
afternoon。 Miss Naylor usually attended them； the little lady was；
to a certain extent； carried past objection。 She had begun to take
an interest in the picture； and to watch the process out of the
corner of her eye； in the depths of her dear mind； however； she never
quite got used to the vanity and waste of time； her lips would move
and her knitting…needles click in suppressed remonstrances。
What Harz did fast he did best； if he had leisure he 〃saw too much；〃
loving his work so passionately that he could never tell exactly when
to stop。 He hated to lay things aside； always thinking： 〃I can get
it better。〃 Greta was finished； but with Christian； try as he would；
he was not satisfied； from day to day her face seemed to him to
change； as if her soul were growing。
There were things too in her eyes that he could neither read nor
reproduce。
Dawney would often stroll out to them after his daily visit； and
lying on the grass； his arms crossed behind his head； and a big cigar
between his lips； would gently banter everybody。 Tea came at five
o'clock； and then Mrs。 Decie appeared armed with a magazine or novel；
for she was proud of her literary knowledge。 The sitting was
suspended； Harz； with a cigarette； would move between the table and
the picture； drinking his tea； putting a touch in here and there； he
never sat down till it was all over for the day。 During these
〃rests〃 there was talk； usually ending in discussion。 Mrs。 Decie was
happiest in conversations of a literary order； making frequent use of
such expressions as： 〃After all； it produces an illusiondoes
anything else matter？〃 〃Rather a poseur； is he not？〃 〃A question；
that； of temperament；〃 or 〃A matter of the definition of words〃； and
other charming generalities； which sound well； and seem to go far；
and are pleasingly irrefutable。 Sometimes the discussion turned on
Arton points of colour or technique； whether realism was quite
justified； and should we be pre…Raphaelites？ When these discussions
started； Christian's eyes would grow bigger and clearer； with a sort
of shining reasonableness； as though they were trying to see into the
depths。 And Harz would stare at them。 But the look in those eyes
eluded him； as if they had no more meaning than Mrs。 Decie's； which；
with their pale； watchful smile； always seemed saying： 〃Come； let us
take a little intellectual exercise。〃
Greta； pulling Scruff's ears； would gaze up at the speakers； when the
talk was over； she always shook herself。 But if no one came to the
〃sittings；〃 there would sometimes be very earnest； quick talk；
sometimes long silences。
One day Christian said： 〃What is your religion？〃
Harz finished the touch he was putting on the canvas； before he
answered： 〃Roman Catholic； I suppose； I was baptised in that Church。〃
〃I didn't mean that。 Do you believe in a future life？〃
〃Christian；〃 murmured Greta； who was plaiting blades of grass； 〃shall
always want to know what people think about a future life； that is so
funny！〃
〃How can I tell？〃 said Harz； 〃I've never really thought of itnever
had the time。〃
〃How can you help thinking？〃 Christian said： 〃I have toit seems to
me so awful that we might come to an end。〃
She closed her book； and it slipped off her lap。 She went on： 〃There
must be a future life； we're so incomplete。 What's the good of your
work； for instance？ What's the use of developing if you have to
stop？〃
〃I don't know；〃 answered Harz。 〃I don't much care。 All I know is；
I've got to work。〃
〃But why？〃
〃For happinessthe real happiness is fightingthe rest is nothing。
If you have finished a thing； does it ever satisfy you？ You look
forward to the next thing at once； to wait is wretched！〃
Christian clasped her hands behind her neck； sunlight flickered
through the leaves on to the bosom of her dress。
〃Ah！ Stay like that！〃 cried Harz。
She let her eyes rest on his face； swinging her foot a little。
〃You work because you must； but that's not enough。 Why do you feel
you must？ I want to know what's behind。 When I was travelling with
Aunt Constance the winter before last we often talkedI've heard her
discuss it with her friends。 She says we move in circles till we
reach Nirvana。 But last winter I found I couldn't talk to her； it
seemed as if she never really meant anything。 Then I started
readingKant and Hegel〃
〃Ah！〃 put in Harz； 〃if they would teach me to draw better； or to see
a new colour in a flower； or an expression in a face； I would read
them all。〃
Christian leaned forward： 〃It must be right to get as near truth as
possible； every step gained is something。 You believe in truth；
truth is the same as beautythat was what you saidyou try to paint
the truth； you always see the beauty。 But how can we know truth；
unless we know what is at the root of it？〃
〃Ithink；〃 murmured Greta； sotto voce； 〃you see one wayand he sees
anotherbecauseyou are not one person。〃
〃Of course！〃 said Christian impatiently； 〃but why〃
A sound of humming interrupted her。
Nicholas Treffry was coming from the house； holding the Times in one
hand； and a huge meerschaum pipe in the other。
〃Aha！〃 he said to Harz： 〃how goes the picture？〃 and he lowered
himself into a chair。
〃Better to…day； Uncle？〃 said Christian softly。
Mr。 Treffry growled。 〃Confounded humbugs； doctors！〃 he said。 〃Your
father used to swear by them； why； his doctor killed himmade him
drink such a lot of stuff！〃
〃Why then do you have a doctor； Uncle Nic？〃 asked Greta。
Mr。 Treffry looked at her； his eyes twinkled。 〃I don't know； my
dear。 If they get half a chance； they won't let go of you！〃
There had been a gentle breeze all day； but now it had died away； not
a leaf quivered； not a blade of grass was stirring； from the house
were heard faint sounds as of some one playing on a pipe。 A
blackbird came hopping down the path。
〃When you were a boy； did you go after birds' nests； Uncle Nic？〃
Greta whispered。
〃I believe you； Greta。〃 The blackbird hopped into the shrubbery。
〃You frightened him； Uncle Nic！ Papa says that at Schloss Konig；
where he lived when he was young； he would always be after jackdaws'
nests。〃
〃Gammon； Greta。 Your father never took a jackdaw's nest； his legs
are much too round！〃
〃Are you fond of birds； Uncle Nic？〃
〃Ask me another； Greta！ Well； I s'pose so。〃
〃Then why did you go bird…nesting？ I think it is cruel〃
Mr。 Treffry coughed behind his paper： 〃There you have me； Greta；〃 he
remarked。
Harz began to gather his brushes： 〃Thank you；〃 he said； 〃that's all I
can do to…day。〃