'That,' suggested the other calmly, 'is probably part of his trade. If he talked much there would be nothing original left in him to write! All these diplomatic fellows get that peculiar reticence of manner—a sort of want of frankness, as it were. That is the great difference between art practised by the tongue, and art stimulated by the eye and created for the pleasure of the eye.'
Huston looked at the burning end of his cigar with bibulous concentration. He knew absolutely nothing about art, and cared less. It is just possible that, in his hideous ignorance, he doubted the purity of the pleasure vouchsafed by the pictorial productions of the artist at his side.
'We,' continued Hicks, with a deprecating wave of the hand, 'can always be frank. The bolder we are, the higher we aim, the ... eh ... the better.'
'Yes ... yes,' murmured Huston. 'But tell me—what made you think that Trist was out of town?'
'Oh, nothing!' airily. 'Nobody stays in town at this time of the year unless they can't help it; that is all! But I suppose these newspaper men hardly think of the seasons. They do not seem to realize the difference between summer and winter—between joyous spring and dismal autumn. I saw a man sketching the other day in a cold east wind on the Thames Embankment. He was only a "black and white" man, you know; but he seemed to know something about drawing. His fingers were blue.'
Like many weak-minded people, Alfred Huston was subject to sudden fits of obstinacy. He felt now that Hicks wished to lead him away from the subject originally under discussion, and in consequence was instigated by a sudden desire to talk and hear more of Theodore Trist.
'That is another thing,' he said, 'about Trist that I do not like. He pretends to despise personal discomfort. It is mere affectation, of course, and on that account, perhaps, all the more aggravating.'
'Carried away by enthusiasm, I suppose?'
The soldier laughed.
'Trist never was carried away by anything. He sits on a box of cartridges, and writes in that beastly note-book of his as if he were at a review. If all his countrymen were being slaughtered round him he would count them with his pencil and take a note of it.'