They ran inland across the waste to warm themselves, then turned to look
at the glory of the full tide under the moonlight and the intense black
shadows of the furze bushes.
at the glory of the full tide under the moonlight and the intense black
shadows of the furze bushes.
Kipling - Poems
It jarred on Maisie, who preferred her payment in applause,
which, since all men desire it, must be of the right. She hunted for her
little purse and gravely took out a threepenny bit.
"There it is," she said. "I'll pay you, Dickie; and don't worry any
more; it isn't worth while. Are you paid? "
"I am," said the very human apostle of fair craft, taking the coin. "I'm
paid a thousand times, and we'll close that account. It shall live on my
watch-chain; and you're an angel, Maisie. "
"I'm very cramped, and I'm feeling a little cold. Good gracious! the
cloak is all white, and so is your moustache! I never knew it was so
chilly. "
A light frost lay white on the shoulder of Dick's ulster. He, too, had
forgotten the state of the weather. They laughed together, and with that
laugh ended all serious discourse.
They ran inland across the waste to warm themselves, then turned to look
at the glory of the full tide under the moonlight and the intense black
shadows of the furze bushes. It was an additional joy to Dick that
Maisie could see colour even as he saw it,--could see the blue in the
white of the mist, the violet that is in gray palings, and all things
else as they are,--not of one hue, but a thousand. And the moonlight
came into Maisie's soul, so that she, usually reserved, chattered of
herself and of the things she took interest in,--of Kami, wisest of
teachers, and of the girls in the studio,--of the Poles, who will kill
themselves with overwork if they are not checked; of the French, who
talk at great length of much more than they will ever accomplish; of
the slovenly English, who toil hopelessly and cannot understand that
inclination does not imply power; of the Americans, whose rasping
voices in the hush of a hot afternoon strain tense-drawn nerves to
breaking-point, and whose suppers lead to indigestion; of tempestuous
Russians, neither to hold nor to bind, who tell the girls ghost-stories
till the girls shriek; of stolid Germans, who come to learn one thing,
and, having mastered that much, stolidly go away and copy pictures for
evermore. Dick listened enraptured because it was Maisie who spoke. He
knew the old life.
"It hasn't changed much," he said. "Do they still steal colours at
lunch-time? "
"Not steal. Attract is the word. Of course they do. I'm good--I only
attract ultramarine; but there are students who'd attract flake-white. "
"I've done it myself. You can't help it when the palettes are hung up.
Every colour is common property once it runs down,--even though you
do start it with a drop of oil. It teaches people not to waste their
tubes. "
"I should like to attract some of your colours, Dick.
which, since all men desire it, must be of the right. She hunted for her
little purse and gravely took out a threepenny bit.
"There it is," she said. "I'll pay you, Dickie; and don't worry any
more; it isn't worth while. Are you paid? "
"I am," said the very human apostle of fair craft, taking the coin. "I'm
paid a thousand times, and we'll close that account. It shall live on my
watch-chain; and you're an angel, Maisie. "
"I'm very cramped, and I'm feeling a little cold. Good gracious! the
cloak is all white, and so is your moustache! I never knew it was so
chilly. "
A light frost lay white on the shoulder of Dick's ulster. He, too, had
forgotten the state of the weather. They laughed together, and with that
laugh ended all serious discourse.
They ran inland across the waste to warm themselves, then turned to look
at the glory of the full tide under the moonlight and the intense black
shadows of the furze bushes. It was an additional joy to Dick that
Maisie could see colour even as he saw it,--could see the blue in the
white of the mist, the violet that is in gray palings, and all things
else as they are,--not of one hue, but a thousand. And the moonlight
came into Maisie's soul, so that she, usually reserved, chattered of
herself and of the things she took interest in,--of Kami, wisest of
teachers, and of the girls in the studio,--of the Poles, who will kill
themselves with overwork if they are not checked; of the French, who
talk at great length of much more than they will ever accomplish; of
the slovenly English, who toil hopelessly and cannot understand that
inclination does not imply power; of the Americans, whose rasping
voices in the hush of a hot afternoon strain tense-drawn nerves to
breaking-point, and whose suppers lead to indigestion; of tempestuous
Russians, neither to hold nor to bind, who tell the girls ghost-stories
till the girls shriek; of stolid Germans, who come to learn one thing,
and, having mastered that much, stolidly go away and copy pictures for
evermore. Dick listened enraptured because it was Maisie who spoke. He
knew the old life.
"It hasn't changed much," he said. "Do they still steal colours at
lunch-time? "
"Not steal. Attract is the word. Of course they do. I'm good--I only
attract ultramarine; but there are students who'd attract flake-white. "
"I've done it myself. You can't help it when the palettes are hung up.
Every colour is common property once it runs down,--even though you
do start it with a drop of oil. It teaches people not to waste their
tubes. "
"I should like to attract some of your colours, Dick.
