The intimate, undisguised portrayal of greed shocked the susceptibilities, but it was the hideous human attributes patent in the brute that disgusted the imagination. With a terrible cunning of mind and brush the artist had laid bare a vice that civilization cloaks.
For two or three minutes the boy stood immovable, then he looked back over his shoulder, and the man behind him was surprised at the expression that had overspread his face, the sombre light that glowed in his eyes. In a moment the adventurer was lost, another being had come uppermost—a strange, unexpected being.
"What do you think of this picture?"
The Irishman did not answer for a moment, then his eyes returned to the canvas and his tongue was loosed.
"If you want to know," he said, "I think it's the most damnable thing I've ever seen. When the Gallic mind runs to morbidity there's nothing to touch it for filth."
"Why filth?"
"Why filth? My dear boy, look at this—and this!" He pointed to the other pictures, each a study of monkey life, each a travesty of some human passion.
The boy obeyed, conscientiously and slowly, then once more his eyes challenged his companion's.
"I say again, why filth?"
"Because there is enough of the beast in every man without advertising it."