“And I,” said René, “am always hunting about for those moments in life and not finding them.”
“Ever known one?”
“No, but I’m absolutely certain they are there. I never knew what I was after until I met Kilner. I’m not certain that I know now. But I’ve escaped social hypnotism so far, and from what you tell me I seem to be less in danger of hypnotism by my own will than either of you.”
“I deny that,” cried Kilner angrily. “You are denying the supremacy of the artist. Just because you have dodged a few of the conventional social obligations, you think——”
“I’m not denying anything of the kind. I grant you the artist is supreme and his vision the most potent force in human thought, but the artist also must be a man and must live, or there’s an end of his vision. He must be prepared if necessary to live in the hypnotic circle, and he must be strong enough to assert his will in it.”
“That’s stupid,” said Kilner. “As if any of us could escape, as if that weren’t precisely what the artist does. Your friend here is the lucky one. He is doing a new thing, exercising a new faculty which is imperfectly developed, so that it is not yet prostituted and abused, as art, science, and love have been. He is still a wonder, even to fools. I who aspire to art, you who aspire to love, are to the world nothing but idiots who have not the nous to help themselves to the plunder and comfort ready to their hands. But you and I are braver than he, for we seek greater things. He is content with physical health and adventure. That is something. It is a higher aim than money and money’s worth. But you and I are definitely pledged to accept only the happiness we know to be true, and the sorrow to which our wills can consent.”
“I dunno,” said Kurt, rising, “but I daresay there’s a good deal to be said on the other side. I’m not so sure, though. I know lots of the other people, and they’ve never given me such an amusing evening. I haven’t had such a good time since I came to London, where everybody thinks of nothing but having a good time. I’ll come again. Anyhow, you’re not worrying about what other folk are thinking of you, and that’s the only thing I can’t stand. Good night.”
Kilner was too excited to go to bed, and he kept René up till three o’clock in the morning talking about a picture he was painting of God creating Eve out of Adam, who was to be shown in an attitude of surrender, though his body gave signs of a fearful agony. Yet was it Adam’s will to submit to any torture to attain the knowledge of the almighty joy of creation.
René was curious about the woman’s share in the operation, and was vaguely distressed to find that in Kilner’s intention Eve was to be no more than beautiful.
“But is she to have no share in creation and the joy of it?”