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I
made
no
reply
for
a
moment
.
I
was
thinking
of
Lucio
's
remarks
on
this
very
same
subject
.
"
Well
!
"
I
said
at
last
--
"
If
I
had
no
feeling
when
I
wrote
the
book
,
I
certainly
have
none
now
.
Why
man
,
I
felt
every
line
of
it
!
--
painfully
and
intensely
!
"
"
Ay
,
ay
indeed
!
"
said
Morgeson
soothingly
--
"
Or
perhaps
you
thought
you
felt
,
which
is
another
very
curious
phase
of
the
literary
temperament
.
You
see
,
to
convince
people
at
all
,
you
must
first
yourself
be
convinced
.
The
result
of
this
is
generally
a
singular
magnetic
attraction
between
author
and
public
.
However
I
am
a
bad
hand
at
argument
--
and
it
is
possible
that
in
hasty
reading
I
may
have
gathered
a
wrong
impression
of
your
intentions
.
Anyhow
the
book
shall
be
a
success
if
we
can
make
it
so
.
All
I
venture
to
ask
of
you
is
that
you
should
personally
endeavour
to
manage
McWhing
!
"
I
promised
to
do
my
best
,
and
on
this
understanding
we
parted
.
I
realised
that
Morgeson
was
capable
of
greater
discernment
than
I
had
imagined
,
and
his
observations
had
given
me
material
for
thought
which
was
not
altogether
agreeable
.
For
if
my
book
,
as
he
said
,
lacked
tenacity
,
why
then
it
would
not
take
root
in
the
public
mind
--
it
would
be
merely
the
ephemeral
success
of
a
season
--
one
of
those
brief
'
booms
'
in
literary
wares
for
which
I
had
such
unmitigated
contempt
--
and
Fame
would
be
as
far
off
as
ever
,
except
that
spurious
imitation
of
it
which
the
fact
of
my
millions
had
secured
.
I
was
in
no
good
humour
that
afternoon
,
and
Lucio
saw
it
.
He
soon
elicited
the
sum
and
substance
of
my
interview
with
Morgeson
,
and
laughed
long
and
somewhat
uproariously
over
the
proposed
'
managing
'
of
the
redoubtable
McWhing
.
He
glanced
at
the
five
names
of
the
other
leading
critics
and
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
"
Morgeson
is
quite
right
,
"
--
he
said
--
"
McWhing
is
intimate
with
the
rest
of
these
fellows
--
they
meet
at
the
same
clubs
,
dine
at
the
same
cheap
restaurants
and
make
love
to
the
same
painted
ballet-girls
.
All
in
a
comfortable
little
fraternal
union
together
,
and
one
obliges
the
other
on
their
several
journals
when
occasion
offers
.
Oh
yes
!
I
should
make
up
to
McWhing
if
I
were
you
.
"
"
But
how
?
"
I
demanded
,
for
though
I
knew
McWhing
's
name
well
enough
having
seen
it
signed
ad
nauseam
to
literary
articles
in
almost
every
paper
extant
,
I
had
never
met
the
man
;
"
I
can
not
ask
any
favour
of
a
press
critic
.
"
"
Of
course
not
!
"
and
Lucio
laughed
heartily
again
--
"
If
you
were
to
do
such
an
idiotic
thing
what
a
slating
you
'd
get
for
your
pains
!
There
's
no
sport
a
critic
loves
so
much
as
the
flaying
of
an
author
who
has
made
the
mistake
of
lowering
himself
to
the
level
of
asking
favours
of
his
intellectual
inferiors
!
No
,
no
,
my
dear
fellow
!
--
we
shall
manage
McWhing
quite
differently
--
I
know
him
,
though
you
do
not
.
"
"
Come
,
that
's
good
news
!
"
I
exclaimed
--
"
Upon
my
word
Lucio
,
you
seem
to
know
everybody
.
"
"
I
think
I
know
most
people
worth
knowing
--
"
responded
Lucio
quietly
--
"
Though
I
by
no
means
include
Mr
McWhing
in
the
category
of
worthiness
.
I
happened
to
make
his
personal
acquaintance
in
a
somewhat
singular
and
exciting
manner
.
It
was
in
Switzerland
,
on
that
awkward
ledge
of
rock
known
as
the
Mauvais
Pas
.
I
had
been
some
weeks
in
the
neighbourhood
on
business
of
my
own
,
and
being
surefooted
and
fearless
,
was
frequently
allowed
by
the
guides
to
volunteer
my
services
with
theirs
.
In
this
capacity
of
amateur
guide
,
capricious
destiny
gave
me
the
pleasure
of
escorting
the
timid
and
bilious
McWhing
across
the
chasms
of
the
Mer
de
Glace
,
and
I
conversed
with
him
in
the
choicest
French
all
the
while
,
a
language
of
which
,
despite
his
boasted
erudition
,
he
was
deplorably
ignorant
.
I
knew
who
he
was
I
must
tell
you
,
as
I
know
most
of
his
craft
,
and
had
long
been
aware
of
him
as
one
of
the
authorised
murderers
of
aspiring
genius
.
When
I
got
him
on
the
Mauvais
Pas
,
I
saw
that
he
was
seized
with
vertigo
;
I
held
him
firmly
by
the
arm
and
addressed
him
in
sound
strong
English
thus
--
'
Mr
McWhing
,
you
wrote
a
damnable
and
scurrilous
article
against
the
work
of
a
certain
poet
'
and
I
named
the
man
--
'
an
article
that
was
a
tissue
of
lies
from
beginning
to
end
,
and
which
by
its
cruelty
and
venom
embittered
a
life
of
brilliant
promise
,
and
crushed
a
noble
spirit
.
