No More Learning

I believe only you and I.
Raynor, Vicery, and Deenes--all dead; Vincent caught smallpox in Cairo,
carried it here and died of it. Yes, only you and I and the Nilghai. "

"Umph! And yet the men here who've done their work in a well-warmed
studio all their lives, with a policeman at each corner, say that I
charge too much for my pictures. "

"They are buying your work, not your insurance policies, dear child,"
said the Nilghai.

"I gambled with one to get at the other. Don't preach. Go on with the
'Pilot. ' Where in the world did you get that song? "

"On a tombstone," said the Nilghai. "On a tombstone in a distant land. I
made it an accompaniment with heaps of base chords. "

"Oh, Vanity! Begin. " And the Nilghai began--

"I have slipped my cable, messmates, I'm drifting down with the tide, I
have my sailing orders, while yet at anchor ride. And never on fair June
morning have I put out to sea With clearer conscience or better hope, or
a heart more light and free.

"Shoulder to shoulder, Joe, my boy, into the crowd like a wedge. Strike
with the hangers, messmates, but do not cut with the edge. " Cries
Charnock, "Scatter the faggots, double that Brahmin in two, The tall
pale widow for me, Joe, the little brown girl for you! "

"Young Joe (you're nearing sixty), why is your hide so dark? Katie has
soft fair blue eyes, who blackened yours? --Why, hark! "

They were all singing now, Dick with the roar of the wind of the open
sea about his ears as the deep bass voice let itself go.

"The morning gun--Ho, steady! the arquebuses to me! I ha' sounded the
Dutch High Admiral's heart as my lead doth sound the sea.

"Sounding, sounding the Ganges, floating down with the tide, Moore me
close to Charnock, next to my nut-brown bride. My blessing to Kate
at Fairlight--Holwell, my thanks to you; Steady! We steer for heaven,
through sand-drifts cold and blue. "

"Now what is there in that nonsense to make a man restless? " said Dick,
hauling Binkie from his feet to his chest.

"It depends on the man," said Torpenhow.

"The man who has been down to look at the sea," said the Nilghai.

"I didn't know she was going to upset me in this fashion. "

"That's what men say when they go to say good-bye to a woman. It's more
easy though to get rid of three women than a piece of one's life and
surroundings. "

"But a woman can be----" began Dick, unguardedly.

"A piece of one's life," continued Torpenhow. "No, she can't. " His face
darkened for a moment. "She says she wants to sympathise with you and
help you in your work, and everything else that clearly a man must
do for himself. Then she sends round five notes a day to ask why the
dickens you haven't been wasting your time with her. "

"Don't generalise," said the Nilghai. "By the time you arrive at
five notes a day you must have gone through a good deal and behaved
accordingly. Shouldn't begin these things, my son. "

"I shouldn't have gone down to the sea," said Dick, just a little
anxious to change the conversation. "And you shouldn't have sung. "

"The sea isn't sending you five notes a day," said the Nilghai.

"No, but I'm fatally compromised. She's an enduring old hag, and
I'm sorry I ever met her. Why wasn't I born and bred and dead in a
three-pair back? "

"Hear him blaspheming his first love! Why in the world shouldn't you
listen to her? " said Torpenhow.

Before Dick could reply the Nilghai lifted up his voice with a shout
that shook the windows, in "The Men of the Sea," that begins, as all
know, "The sea is a wicked old woman," and after wading through eight
lines whose imagery is truthful, ends in a refrain, slow as the clacking
of a capstan when the boat comes unwillingly up to the bars where the
men sweat and tramp in the shingle.

"'Ye that bore us, O restore us! She is kinder than ye; For the call is
on our heart-strings! ' Said The Men of the Sea. "

The Nilghai sang that verse twice, with simple cunning, intending that
Dick should hear. But Dick was waiting for the farewell of the men to
their wives.

"'Ye that love us, can ye move us? She is dearer than ye; And your sleep
will be the sweeter,' Said The Men of the Sea. "

The rough words beat like the blows of the waves on the bows of the
rickety boat from Lima in the days when Dick was mixing paints, making
love, drawing devils and angels in the half dark, and wondering whether
the next minute would put the Italian captain's knife between his
shoulder-blades. And the go-fever which is more real than many doctors'
diseases, waked and raged, urging him who loved Maisie beyond anything
in the world, to go away and taste the old hot, unregenerate life
again,--to scuffle, swear, gamble, and love light loves with his
fellows; to take ship and know the sea once more, and by her beget
pictures; to talk to Binat among the sands of Port Said while Yellow
Tina mixed the drinks; to hear the crackle of musketry, and see the
smoke roll outward, thin and thicken again till the shining black faces
came through, and in that hell every man was strictly responsible for
his own head, and his own alone, and struck with an unfettered arm. It
was impossible, utterly impossible, but--

"'Oh, our fathers in the churchyard, She is older than ye, And our
graves will be the greener,' Said The Men of the Sea. "

"What is there to hinder? " said Torpenhow, in the long hush that
followed the song.

"You said a little time since that you wouldn't come for a walk round
the world, Torp. "

"That was months ago, and I only objected to your making money for
travelling expenses. You've shot your bolt here and it has gone home. Go
away and do some work, and see some things. "

"Get some of the fat off you; you're disgracefully out of condition,"
said the Nilghai, making a plunge from the chair and grasping a handful
of Dick generally over the right ribs. "Soft as putty--pure tallow born
of over-feeding. Train it off, Dickie. "

"We're all equally gross, Nilghai. Next time you have to take the field
you'll sit down, wink your eyes, gasp, and die in a fit. "

"Never mind. You go away on a ship. Go to Lima again, or to Brazil.
There's always trouble in South America. "

"Do you suppose I want to be told where to go? Great Heavens, the only
difficulty is to know where I'm to stop. But I shall stay here, as I
told you before. "

"Then you'll be buried in Kensal Green and turn into adipocere with the
others," said Torpenhow. "Are you thinking of commissions in hand? Pay
forfeit and go. You've money enough to travel as a king if you please. "

"You've the grisliest notions of amusement, Torp. I think I see myself
shipping first class on a six-thousand-ton hotel, and asking the third
engineer what makes the engines go round, and whether it isn't very warm
in the stokehold. Ho! ho! I should ship as a loafer if ever I shipped at
all, which I'm not going to do. I shall compromise, and go for a small
trip to begin with. "

"That's something at any rate. Where will you go? " said Torpenhow. "It
would do you all the good in the world, old man. "

The Nilghai saw the twinkle in Dick's eye, and refrained from speech.

"I shall go in the first place to Rathray's stable, where I shall hire
one horse, and take him very carefully as far as Richmond Hill. Then I
shall walk him back again, in case he should accidentally burst into a
lather and make Rathray angry. I shall do that tomorrow, for the sake of
air and exercise. "

"Bah! " Dick had barely time to throw up his arm and ward off the cushion
that the disgusted Torpenhow heaved at his head.

"Air and exercise indeed," said the Nilghai, sitting down heavily on
Dick.

"Let's give him a little of both. Get the bellows, Torp. "

At this point the conference broke up in disorder, because Dick would
not open his mouth till the Nilghai held his nose fast, and there was
some trouble in forcing the nozzle of the bellows between his teeth; and
even when it was there he weakly tried to puff against the force of
the blast, and his cheeks blew up with a great explosion; and the enemy
becoming helpless with laughter he so beat them over the head with a
soft sofa cushion that became unsewn and distributed its feathers,
and Binkie, interfering in Torpenhow's interests, was bundled into the
half-empty bag and advised to scratch his way out, which he did after
a while, travelling rapidly up and down the floor in the shape of an
agitated green haggis, and when he came out looking for satisfaction,
the three pillars of his world were picking feathers out of their hair.

"A prophet has no honour in his own country," said Dick, ruefully,
dusting his knees. "This filthy fluff will never brush off my legs. "

"It was all for your own good," said the Nilghai. "Nothing like air and
exercise. "

"All for your good," said Torpenhow, not in the least with reference to
past clowning. "It would let you focus things at their proper worth and
prevent your becoming slack in this hothouse of a town. Indeed it would,
old man. I shouldn't have spoken if I hadn't thought so. Only, you make
a joke of everything. "

"Before God I do no such thing," said Dick, quickly and earnestly. "You
don't know me if you think that. "

"I don't think it," said the Nilghai.

"How can fellows like ourselves, who know what life and death really
mean, dare to make a joke of anything? I know we pretend it, to save
ourselves from breaking down or going to the other extreme. Can't I see,
old man, how you're always anxious about me, and try to advise me to
make my work better? Do you suppose I don't think about that myself? But
you can't help me--you can't help me--not even you. I must play my own
hand alone in my own way. "

"Hear, hear," from the Nilghai.

"What's the one thing in the Nilghai Saga that I've never drawn in
the Nungapunga Book? " Dick continued to Torpenhow, who was a little
astonished at the outburst.

Now there was one blank page in the book given over to the sketch that
Dick had not drawn of the crowning exploit in the Nilghai's life; when
that man, being young and forgetting that his body and bones belonged to
the paper that employed him, had ridden over sunburned slippery grass
in the rear of Bredow's brigade on the day that the troopers flung
themselves at Caurobert's artillery, and for aught they knew twenty
battalions in front, to save the battered 24th German Infantry, to give
time to decide the fate of Vionville, and to learn ere their remnant
came back to Flavigay that cavalry can attack and crumple and break
unshaken infantry. Whenever he was inclined to think over a life that
might have been better, an income that might have been larger, and
a soul that might have been considerably cleaner, the Nilghai would
comfort himself with the thought, "I rode with Bredow's brigade at
Vionville," and take heart for any lesser battle the next day might
bring.

"I know," he said very gravely. "I was always glad that you left it
out. "

"I left it out because Nilghai taught me what the Germany army learned
then, and what Schmidt taught their cavalry. I don't know German.
What is it? 'Take care of the time and the dressing will take care of
itself. ' I must ride my own line to my own beat, old man. "

"Tempe ist richtung. You've learned your lesson well," said the Nilghai.

"He must go alone. He speaks truth, Torp. "

"Maybe I'm as wrong as I can be--hideously wrong. I must find that out
for myself, as I have to think things out for myself, but I daren't turn
my head to dress by the next man. It hurts me a great deal more than you
know not to be able to go, but I cannot, that's all. I must do my own
work and live my own life in my own way, because I'm responsible for
both. Only don't think I frivol about it, Torp. I have my own matches and
sulphur, and I'll make my own hell, thanks. "

There was an uncomfortable pause. Then Torpenhow said blandly, "What did
the Governor of North Carolina say to the Governor of South Carolina? "

"Excellent notion. It is a long time between drinks. There are the
makings of a very fine prig in you, Dick," said the Nilghai.

"I've liberated my mind, estimable Binkie, with the feathers in his
mouth. " Dick picked up the still indignant one and shook him tenderly.
"You're tied up in a sack and made to run about blind, Binkie-wee,
without any reason, and it has hurt your little feelings. Never mind.
Sic volo, sic jubeo, stet pro ratione voluntas, and don't sneeze in my
eye because I talk Latin. Good night. "

He went out of the room.

"That's distinctly one for you," said the Nilghai. "I told you it was
hopeless to meddle with him. He's not pleased. "

"He'd swear at me if he weren't. I can't make it out. He has the
go-fever upon him and he won't go. I only hope that he mayn't have to go
some day when he doesn't want to," said Torpenhow.

* * * * *

In his own room Dick was settling a question with himself--and the
question was whether all the world, and all that was therein, and a
burning desire to exploit both, was worth one threepenny piece thrown
into the Thames.

"It came of seeing the sea, and I'm a cur to think about it," he
decided. "After all, the honeymoon will be that tour--with reservations;
only. . . only I didn't realise that the sea was so strong. I didn't
feel it so much when I was with Maisie. These damnable songs did it.
He's beginning again. "

But it was only Herrick's Nightpiece to Julia that the Nilghai sang,
and before it was ended Dick reappeared on the threshold, not altogether
clothed indeed, but in his right mind, thirsty and at peace.

The mood had come and gone with the rising and the falling of the tide
by Fort Keeling.



CHAPTER IX

"If I have taken the common clay
And wrought it cunningly
In the shape of a god that was digged a clod,
The greater honour to me. "

"If thou hast taken the common clay,
And thy hands be not free
From the taint of the soil,
thou hast made thy spoil
The greater shame to thee. "
--The Two Potters

HE DID no work of any kind for the rest of the week. Then came another
Sunday. He dreaded and longed for the day always, but since the
red-haired girl had sketched him there was rather more dread than desire
in his mind.

He found that Maisie had entirely neglected his suggestions about
line-work. She had gone off at score filed with some absurd notion for a
"fancy head. " It cost Dick something to command his temper.

"What's the good of suggesting anything? " he said pointedly.

"Ah, but this will be a picture,--a real picture; and I know that Kami
will let me send it to the Salon. You don't mind, do you? "

"I suppose not. But you won't have time for the Salon. "

Maisie hesitated a little. She even felt uncomfortable.

"We're going over to France a month sooner because of it. I shall get
the idea sketched out here and work it up at Kami's. "

Dick's heart stood still, and he came very near to being disgusted with
his queen who could do no wrong. "Just when I thought I had made some
headway, she goes off chasing butterflies. It's too maddening! "

There was no possibility of arguing, for the red-haired girl was in the
studio.
Dick could only look unutterable reproach.

"I'm sorry," he said, "and I think you make a mistake. But what's the
idea of your new picture? "

"I took it from a book. "

"That's bad, to begin with. Books aren't the places for pictures.
And----"

"It's this," said the red-haired girl behind him. "I was reading it to
Maisie the other day from The City of Dreadful Night. D'you know the
book? "

"A little. I am sorry I spoke. There are pictures in it. What has taken
her fancy? "

"The description of the Melancolia--

'Her folded wings as of a mighty eagle,
But all too impotent to lift the regal
Robustness of her earth-born strength and pride.

And here again. (Maisie, get the tea, dear. )

'The forehead charged with baleful thoughts and dreams,
The household bunch of keys, the housewife's gown,
Voluminous indented, and yet rigid
As though a shell of burnished metal frigid,
Her feet thick-shod to tread all weakness down. "

There was no attempt to conceal the scorn of the lazy voice. Dick
winced.

"But that has been done already by an obscure artist by the name of
Durer," said he. "How does the poem run? --

'Three centuries and threescore years ago,
With phantasies of his peculiar thought. '

You might as well try to rewrite Hamlet. It will be a waste of time. "

"No, it won't," said Maisie, putting down the teacups with a clatter to
reassure herself. "And I mean to do it. Can't you see what a beautiful
thing it would make? "

"How in perdition can one do work when one hasn't had the proper
training? Any fool can get a notion. It needs training to drive the
thing through,--training and conviction; not rushing after the first
fancy. " Dick spoke between his teeth.

"You don't understand," said Maisie. "I think I can do it. "

Again the voice of the girl behind him--

"Baffled and beaten back, she works on still;
Weary and sick of soul, she works the more.

Sustained by her indomitable will,
The hands shall fashion, and the brain shall pore,
And all her sorrow shall be turned to labour----

I fancy Maisie means to embody herself in the picture. "

"Sitting on a throne of rejected pictures? No, I shan't, dear. The
notion in itself has fascinated me. --Of course you don't care for fancy
heads, Dick. I don't think you could do them. You like blood and bones. "

"That's a direct challenge. If you can do a Melancolia that isn't merely
a sorrowful female head, I can do a better one; and I will, too. What
d'you know about Melacolias? " Dick firmly believed that he was even then
tasting three-quarters of all the sorrow in the world.

"She was a woman," said Maisie, "and she suffered a great deal,--till
she could suffer no more. Then she began to laugh at it all, and then I
painted her and sent her to the Salon. "

The red-haired girl rose up and left the room, laughing.

Dick looked at Maisie humbly and hopelessly.

"Never mind about the picture," he said. "Are you really going back to
Kami's for a month before your time? "

"I must, if I want to get the picture done. "

"And that's all you want? "

"Of course. Don't be stupid, Dick. "

"You haven't the power. You have only the ideas--the ideas and the
little cheap impulses. How you could have kept at your work for ten
years steadily is a mystery to me. So you are really going,--a month
before you need? "

"I must do my work. "

"Your work--bah! . . . No, I didn't mean that. It's all right, dear.
Of course you must do your work, and--I think I'll say goodbye for this
week. "

"Won't you even stay for tea? "

"No, thank you. Have I your leave to go, dear? There's nothing more you
particularly want me to do, and the line-work doesn't matter. "

"I wish you could stay, and then we could talk over my picture. If only
one single picture's a success, it draws attention to all the others. I
know some of my work is good, if only people could see. And you needn't
have been so rude about it. "

"I'm sorry. We'll talk the Melancolia over some one of the other
Sundays. There are four more--yes, one, two, three, four--before you go.
Goodbye, Maisie. "

Maisie stood by the studio window, thinking, till the red-haired girl
returned, a little white at the corners of her lips.

"Dick's gone off," said Maisie. "Just when I wanted to talk about the
picture. Isn't it selfish of him? "

Her companion opened her lips as if to speak, shut them again, and went
on reading The City of Dreadful Night.

Dick was in the Park, walking round and round a tree that he had chosen
as his confidante for many Sundays past. He was swearing audibly, and
when he found that the infirmities of the English tongue hemmed in his
rage, he sought consolation in Arabic, which is expressly designed for
the use of the afflicted. He was not pleased with the reward of his
patient service; nor was he pleased with himself; and it was long before
he arrived at the proposition that the queen could do no wrong.

"It's a losing game," he said. "I'm worth nothing when a whim of hers
is in question. But in a losing game at Port Said we used to double
the stakes and go on. She do a Melancolia! She hasn't the power, or the
insight, or the training. Only the desire. She's cursed with the curse
of Reuben. She won't do line-work, because it means real work; and yet
she's stronger than I am. I'll make her understand that I can beat her
on her own Melancolia. Even then she wouldn't care. She says I can only
do blood and bones. I don't believe she has blood in her veins. All the
same I lover her; and I must go on loving her; and if I can humble her
inordinate vanity I will. I'll do a Melancolia that shall be something
like a Melancolia 'the Melancolia that transcends all wit. ' I'll do it
at once, con--bless her. "

He discovered that the notion would not come to order, and that he could
not free his mind for an hour from the thought of Maisie's departure.
He took very small interest in her rough studies for the Melancolia when
she showed them next week. The Sundays were racing past, and the time
was at hand when all the church bells in London could not ring
Maisie back to him. Once or twice he said something to Binkie about
'hermaphroditic futilities,' but the little dog received so many
confidences both from Torpenhow and Dick that he did not trouble his
tulip-ears to listen.

Dick was permitted to see the girls off. They were going by the Dover
night-boat; and they hoped to return in August. It was then February,
and Dick felt that he was being hardly used. Maisie was so busy
stripping the small house across the Park, and packing her canvases,
that she had not time for thought. Dick went down to Dover and wasted
a day there fretting over a wonderful possibility. Would Maisie at the
very last allow him one small kiss? He reflected that he might capture
her by the strong arm, as he had seem women captured in the Southern
Soudan, and lead her away; but Maisie would never be led. She would turn
her gray eyes upon him and say, "Dick, how selfish you are! " Then his
courage would fail him. It would be better, after all, to beg for that
kiss.

Maisie looked more than usually kissable as she stepped from the
night-mail on to the windy pier, in a gray waterproof and a little gray
cloth travelling-cap. The red-haired girl was not so lovely. Her green
eyes were hollow and her lips were dry. Dick saw the trunks aboard, and
went to Maisie's side in the darkness under the bridge. The mail-bags
were thundering into the forehold, and the red-haired girl was watching
them.

"You'll have a rough passage tonight," said Dick. "It's blowing outside.
I suppose I may come over and see you if I'm good? "

"You mustn't. I shall be busy. At least, if I want you I'll send for
you. But I shall write from Vitry-sur-Marne. I shall have heaps of
things to consult you about. Oh, Dick, you have been so good to me! --so
good to me! "

"Thank you for that, dear. It hasn't made any difference, has it? "

"I can't tell a fib. It hasn't--in that way. But don't think I'm not
grateful. "

"Damn the gratitude! " said Dick, huskily, to the paddle-box.

"What's the use of worrying? You know I should ruin your life, and you'd
ruin mine, as things are now. You remember what you said when you were
so angry that day in the Park? One of us has to be broken. Can't you
wait till that day comes? "

"No, love. I want you unbroken--all to myself. "

Maisie shook her head. "My poor Dick, what can I say! "

"Don't say anything. Give me a kiss. Only one kiss, Maisie. I'll swear
I won't take any more. You might as well, and then I can be sure you're
grateful. "

Maisie put her cheek forward, and Dick took his reward in the darkness.

It was only one kiss, but, since there was no time-limit specified, it
was a long one. Maisie wrenched herself free angrily, and Dick stood
abashed and tingling from head to toe.

"Goodbye, darling. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry. Only--keep
well and do good work,--specially the Melancolia. I'm going to do
one, too. Remember me to Kami, and be careful what you drink. Country
drinking-water is bad everywhere, but it's worse in France. Write to
me if you want anything, and good-bye. Say good-bye to the
whatever-you-call-um girl, and--can't I have another kiss? No. You're
quite right. Goodbye. "

A shout told him that it was not seemly to charge of the mail-bag
incline. He reached the pier as the steamer began to move off, and he
followed her with his heart.

"And there's nothing--nothing in the wide world--to keep us apart except
her obstinacy. These Calais night-boats are much too small. I'll get
Torp to write to the papers about it. She's beginning to pitch already. "

Maisie stood where Dick had left her till she heard a little gasping
cough at her elbow. The red-haired girl's eyes were alight with cold
flame.

"He kissed you! " she said. "How could you let him, when he wasn't
anything to you? How dared you to take a kiss from him? Oh, Maisie,
let's go to the ladies' cabin. I'm sick,--deadly sick. "

"We aren't into open water yet. Go down, dear, and I'll stay here.
I don't like the smell of the engines. . . . Poor Dick! He deserved
one,--only one. But I didn't think he'd frighten me so. "

Dick returned to town next day just in time for lunch, for which he had
telegraphed. To his disgust, there were only empty plates in the studio.

He lifted up his voice like the bears in the fairy-tale, and Torpenhow
entered, looking guilty.

"H'sh! " said he. "Don't make such a noise. I took it. Come into my
rooms, and I'll show you why. "

Dick paused amazed at the threshold, for on Torpenhow's sofa lay a
girl asleep and breathing heavily. The little cheap sailor-hat, the
blue-and-white dress, fitter for June than for February, dabbled with
mud at the skirts, the jacket trimmed with imitation Astrakhan and
ripped at the shoulder-seams, the one-and-elevenpenny umbrella, and,
above all, the disgraceful condition of the kid-topped boots, declared
all things.

"Oh, I say, old man, this is too bad!