So out of these moods there began the burgeoning of new plans in his mind. Even amid the rush of rehearsals, he was dreaming of other things to write; some time before “The Genius” had reached the public, he had finished the writing of “The Utopians”—that fragment of a vision which was perhaps the greatest thing he ever did, and certainly the most characteristic.
Section 8. As usual, the immediate occasion of the writing was trivial enough. It was his “leading lady” who was responsible for it. Miss Lewis had taken a curious fancy to Thyrsis—he was a new type to her, and it pleased her to explore him. “How in the world did you ever get him to marry you?” she would exclaim to Corydon. “I could as soon imagine a marble statue making love to me!” And she told others about this strange poet, who was obviously almost starving, and yet had refused to let Richard Haberton revise his play for him, and had all but refused to let Robertson Jones Inc., produce it. Before long she came to Thyrsis to say that one of her friends desired to meet him, and would he come to a supper-party.
Thyrsis heard this with perplexity.
“A supper-party!” he exclaimed. “But I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Why—I have no clothes.”
“Nobody expects a poet to have clothes,” laughed Miss Lewis. “Come in the garments of your fancy. And besides, Barry’s a true Bohemian.”
Barry Creston, the giver of this party, was one of the sons of “Dan” Creston, the mine-owner and “railroad-king”, who a short while before had been elected senator from a Western state under circumstances of great scandal. “The old man’s a hard character, I guess,” said Miss Lewis; “but you must not believe all you read in the papers about Barry.”
“I never read anything about him,” said the other; and so Miss Lewis went on to explain that Griswold, the Wall Street plunger, had got a divorce from his wife after throwing her into Barry’s arms; and that Barry’s sister had married an Austrian arch-duke who had maltreated her, and that Barry had kicked him out of a hotel-window in Paris.
This invitation was a cause of much discomfort to Thyrsis. He had not come to the point where he was even curious about the life of the Barry Crestons of the world; and yet he did not like to hurt Miss Lewis’ feelings. She made it evident to him that she was determined to exhibit her “lion”; and so he said “all right.”