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- Стр. 64/193
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"
Dirk
,
you
make
me
impatient
,
"
said
Mrs
.
Stroeve
.
"
How
can
you
talk
like
that
about
his
pictures
when
he
treated
you
as
he
did
?
"
She
turned
to
me
"
Do
you
know
,
when
some
Dutch
people
came
here
to
buy
Dirk
’
s
pictures
he
tried
to
persuade
them
to
buy
Strickland
’
s
?
He
insisted
on
bringing
them
here
to
show
.
"
"
What
did
you
think
of
them
?
"
I
asked
her
,
smiling
.
"
They
were
awful
.
"
"
Ah
,
sweetheart
,
you
don
’
t
understand
.
"
"
Well
,
your
Dutch
people
were
furious
with
you
.
They
thought
you
were
having
a
joke
with
them
.
"
Dirk
Stroeve
took
off
his
spectacles
and
wiped
them
.
His
flushed
face
was
shining
with
excitement
.
"
Why
should
you
think
that
beauty
,
which
is
the
most
precious
thing
in
the
world
,
lies
like
a
stone
on
the
beach
for
the
careless
passer
-
by
to
pick
up
idly
?
Beauty
is
something
wonderful
and
strange
that
the
artist
fashions
out
of
the
chaos
of
the
world
in
the
torment
of
his
soul
.
And
when
he
has
made
it
,
it
is
not
given
to
all
to
know
it
.
To
recognize
it
you
must
repeat
the
adventure
of
the
artist
.
It
is
a
melody
that
he
sings
to
you
,
and
to
hear
it
again
in
your
own
heart
you
want
knowledge
and
sensitiveness
and
imagination
.
"
"
Why
did
I
always
think
your
pictures
beautiful
,
Dirk
?
I
admired
them
the
very
first
time
I
saw
them
.
"
Stroeve
’
s
lips
trembled
a
little
.
