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"
I
think
we
might
have
our
coffee
here
,
don
’
t
you
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
We
lit
our
cigars
.
I
smoked
in
silence
.
I
noticed
that
now
and
then
his
eyes
rested
on
me
with
a
faint
smile
of
amusement
.
I
waited
patiently
.
"
What
have
you
been
up
to
since
I
saw
you
last
?
"
he
asked
at
length
.
I
had
not
very
much
to
say
.
It
was
a
record
of
hard
work
and
of
little
adventure
;
of
experiments
in
this
direction
and
in
that
;
of
the
gradual
acquisition
of
the
knowledge
of
books
and
of
men
.
I
took
care
to
ask
Strickland
nothing
about
his
own
doings
.
I
showed
not
the
least
interest
in
him
,
and
at
last
I
was
rewarded
.
He
began
to
talk
of
himself
.
But
with
his
poor
gift
of
expression
he
gave
but
indications
of
what
he
had
gone
through
,
and
I
had
to
fill
up
the
gaps
with
my
own
imagination
.
It
was
tantalising
to
get
no
more
than
hints
into
a
character
that
interested
me
so
much
.
It
was
like
making
one
’
s
way
through
a
mutilated
manuscript
.
I
received
the
impression
of
a
life
which
was
a
bitter
struggle
against
every
sort
of
difficulty
;
but
I
realised
that
much
which
would
have
seemed
horrible
to
most
people
did
not
in
the
least
affect
him
.
Strickland
was
distinguished
from
most
Englishmen
by
his
perfect
indifference
to
comfort
;
it
did
not
irk
him
to
live
always
in
one
shabby
room
;
he
had
no
need
to
be
surrounded
by
beautiful
things
.
I
do
not
suppose
he
had
ever
noticed
how
dingy
was
the
paper
on
the
wall
of
the
room
in
which
on
my
first
visit
I
found
him
.
He
did
not
want
arm
-
chairs
to
sit
in
;
he
really
felt
more
at
his
ease
on
a
kitchen
chair
.
He
ate
with
appetite
,
but
was
indifferent
to
what
he
ate
;
to
him
it
was
only
food
that
he
devoured
to
still
the
pangs
of
hunger
;
and
when
no
food
was
to
be
had
he
seemed
capable
of
doing
without
.
I
learned
that
for
six
months
he
had
lived
on
a
loaf
of
bread
and
a
bottle
of
milk
a
day
.
He
was
a
sensual
man
,
and
yet
was
indifferent
to
sensual
things
.
He
looked
upon
privation
as
no
hardship
.
There
was
something
impressive
in
the
manner
in
which
he
lived
a
life
wholly
of
the
spirit
.
When
the
small
sum
of
money
which
he
brought
with
him
from
London
came
to
an
end
he
suffered
from
no
dismay
.
He
sold
no
pictures
;
I
think
he
made
little
attempt
to
sell
any
;
he
set
about
finding
some
way
to
make
a
bit
of
money
.
He
told
me
with
grim
humour
of
the
time
he
had
spent
acting
as
guide
to
Cockneys
who
wanted
to
see
the
night
side
of
life
in
Paris
;
it
was
an
occupation
that
appealed
to
his
sardonic
temper
and
somehow
or
other
he
had
acquired
a
wide
acquaintance
with
the
more
disreputable
quarters
of
the
city
.
He
told
me
of
the
long
hours
he
spent
walking
about
the
Boulevard
de
la
Madeleine
on
the
look
-
out
for
Englishmen
,
preferably
the
worse
for
liquor
,
who
desired
to
see
things
which
the
law
forbade
.
When
in
luck
he
was
able
to
make
a
tidy
sum
;
but
the
shabbiness
of
his
clothes
at
last
frightened
the
sight
-
seers
,
and
he
could
not
find
people
adventurous
enough
to
trust
themselves
to
him
.
Then
he
happened
on
a
job
to
translate
the
advertisements
of
patent
medicines
which
were
sent
broadcast
to
the
medical
profession
in
England
.
During
a
strike
he
had
been
employed
as
a
house
-
painter
.
Meanwhile
he
had
never
ceased
to
work
at
his
art
;
but
,
soon
tiring
of
the
studios
,
entirely
by
himself
.
He
had
never
been
so
poor
that
he
could
not
buy
canvas
and
paint
,
and
really
he
needed
nothing
else
.
So
far
as
I
could
make
out
,
he
painted
with
great
difficulty
,
and
in
his
unwillingness
to
accept
help
from
anyone
lost
much
time
in
finding
out
for
himself
the
solution
of
technical
problems
which
preceding
generations
had
already
worked
out
one
by
one
.
He
was
aiming
at
something
,
I
knew
not
what
,
and
perhaps
he
hardly
knew
himself
;
and
I
got
again
more
strongly
the
impression
of
a
man
possessed
.
He
did
not
seem
quite
sane
.
It
seemed
to
me
that
he
would
not
show
his
pictures
because
he
was
really
not
interested
in
them
.
He
lived
in
a
dream
,
and
the
reality
meant
nothing
to
him
.
I
had
the
feeling
that
he
worked
on
a
canvas
with
all
the
force
of
his
violent
personality
,
oblivious
of
everything
in
his
effort
to
get
what
he
saw
with
the
mind
’
s
eye
;
and
then
,
having
finished
,
not
the
picture
perhaps
,
for
I
had
an
idea
that
he
seldom
brought
anything
to
completion
,
but
the
passion
that
fired
him
,
he
lost
all
care
for
it
.
He
was
never
satisfied
with
what
he
had
done
;
it
seemed
to
him
of
no
consequence
compared
with
the
vision
that
obsessed
his
mind
.
