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assure you； my dear；〃 he said； 〃it is easier to be flat； it is more
respectable to be flat。 Himmel！ why not； then； be flat？〃
〃Like any common fellow？〃
〃Certes； like any common fellowlike me； par exemple！〃 Herr Paul
waved his hand。 When he exercised unusual tact； he always made use
of a French expression。
Harz flushed。 Herr Paul followed up his victory。 〃Come； come！〃 he
said。 〃Pass me my men of repute！ que diable！ we are not anarchists。〃
〃Are you sure？〃 said Harz。
Herr Paul twisted his moustache。 〃I beg your pardon；〃 he said
slowly。 But at this moment the door was opened； a rumbling voice
remarked： 〃Morning； Paul。 Who's your visitor？〃 Harz saw a tall；
bulky figure in the doorway。
〃Come in；〃' called out Herr Paul。 〃Let me present to you a new
acquaintance； an artist： Herr HarzMr。 Nicholas Treffry。 Psumm
bumm！ All this introducing is dry work。〃 And going to the sideboard
he poured out three glasses of a light； foaming beer。
Mr。 Treffry waved it from him： 〃Not for me；〃 he said： 〃Wish I could！
They won't let me look at it。〃 And walking over； to the window with
a heavy tread； which trembled like his voice； he sat down。 There was
something in his gait like the movements of an elephant's hind legs。
He was very tall （it was said； with the customary exaggeration of
family tradition； that there never had been a male Treffry under six
feet in height）； but now he stooped； and had grown stout。 There was
something at once vast and unobtrusive about his personality。
He wore a loose brown velvet jacket； and waistcoat； cut to show a
soft frilled shirt and narrow black ribbon tie； a thin gold chain was
looped round his neck and fastened to his fob。 His heavy cheeks had
folds in them like those in a bloodhound's face。 He wore big；
drooping； yellow…grey moustaches； which he had a habit of sucking；
and a goatee beard。 He had long loose ears that might almost have
been said to gap。 On his head there was a soft black hat； large in
the brim and low in the crown。 His grey eyes； heavy…lidded； twinkled
under their bushy brows with a queer； kind cynicism。 As a young man
he had sown many a wild oat； but he had also worked and made money in
business； he had； in fact； burned the candle at both ends； but he had
never been unready to do his fellows a good turn。 He had a passion
for driving； and his reckless method of pursuing this art had caused
him to be nicknamed： 〃The notorious Treffry。〃
Once； when he was driving tandem down a hill with a loose rein； the
friend beside him had said： 〃For all the good you're doing with those
reins； Treffry； you might as well throw them on the horses' necks。〃
〃Just so；〃 Treffry had answered。 At the bottom of the hill they had
gone over a wall into a potato patch。 Treffry had broken several
ribs； his friend had gone unharmed。
He was a great sufferer now； but； constitutionally averse to being
pitied； he had a disconcerting way of humming； and this； together
with the shake in his voice； and his frequent use of peculiar
phrases； made the understanding of his speech depend at times on
intuition rather than intelligence。
The clock began to strike eleven。 Harz muttered an excuse； shook
hands with his host； and bowing to his new acquaintance； went away。
He caught a glimpse of Greta's face against the window； and waved his
hand to her。 In the road he came on Dawney； who was turning in
between the poplars； with thumbs as usual hooked in the armholes of
his waistcoat。
〃Hallo！〃 the latter said。
〃Doctor！〃 Harz answered slyly； 〃the Fates outwitted me； it seems。〃
〃Serve you right；〃 said Dawney； 〃for your confounded egoism！ Wait
here till I come out； I shan't be many minutes。〃
But Harz went on his way。 A cart drawn by cream…coloured oxen was
passing slowly towards the bridge。 In front of the brushwood piled
on it two peasant girls were sitting with their feet on a mat of
grassthe picture of contentment。
〃I'm wasting my time！〃 he thought。 〃I've done next to nothing in two
months。 Better get back to London！ That girl will never make a
painter！〃 She would never make a painter； but there was something in
her that he could not dismiss so rapidly。 She was not exactly
beautiful； but she was sympathetic。 The brow was pleasing； with
dark…brown hair softly turned back； and eyes so straight and shining。
The two sisters were very different！ The little one was innocent；
yet mysterious； the elder seemed as clear as crystal！
He had entered the town； where the arcaded streets exuded their
peculiar pungent smell of cows and leather； wood…smoke； wine…casks；
and drains。 The sound of rapid wheels over the stones made him turn
his head。 A carriage drawn by red…roan horses was passing at a great
pace。 People stared at it； standing still； and looking alarmed。 It
swung from side to side and vanished round a corner。 Harz saw Mr。
Nicholas Treffry in a long； whitish dust…coat； his Italian servant；
perched behind； was holding to the seat…rail； with a nervous grin on
his dark face。
'Certainly；' Harz thought； 'there's no getting away from these people
this morningthey are everywhere。'
In his studio he began to sort his sketches； wash his brushes； and
drag out things he had accumulated during his two months' stay。 He
even began to fold his blanket door。 But suddenly he stopped。 Those
two girls！ Why not try？ What a picture！ The two heads； the sky；
and leaves！ Begin to…morrow！ Against that windowno； better at the
Villa！ Call the pictureSpring。。。！
IV
The wind； stirring among trees and bushes； flung the young leaves
skywards。 The trembling of their silver linings was like the joyful
flutter of a heart at good news。 It was one of those Spring mornings
when everything seems full of a sweet restlessnesssoft clouds
chasing fast across the sky； soft scents floating forth and dying；
the notes of birds； now shrill and sweet； now hushed in silences； all
nature striving for something； nothing at peace。
Villa Rubein withstood the influence of the day； and wore its usual
look of rest and isolation。 Harz sent in his card； and asked to see
〃der Herr。〃 The servant； a grey…eyed； clever…looking Swiss with no
hair on his face； came back saying：
〃Der Herr； mein Herr； is in the Garden gone。〃 Harz followed him。
Herr Paul； a small white flannel cap on his head； gloves on his
hands； and glasses on his nose； was watering a rosebush； and humming
the serenade from Faust。
This aspect of the house was very different from the other。 The sun
fell on it； and over a veranda creepers clung and scrambled in long
scrolls。 There was a lawn； with freshly mown grass； flower…beds were
laid out； and at the end of an avenue of young acacias stood an
arbour covered with wisteria。
In the east； mountain peaksfingers of snowglittered above the
mist。 A grave simplicity lay on that scene； on the roofs and spires；
the va