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other views； for I remember saying that for myself I wasn't sure it
was bad for them if the novels were 〃good〃 to the right intensity of
goodness。 〃Bad for THEM； I don't say so much！〃 my companion
returned。 〃But very bad； I'm afraid； for the poor dear old novel
itself。〃 That oblique accidental allusion to his wife's attitude was
followed by a greater breadth of reference as we walked home。 〃The
difference between us is simply the opposition between two distinct
ways of looking at the world； which have never succeeded in getting
on together； or in making any kind of common household； since the
beginning of time。 They've borne all sorts of names； and my wife
would tell you it's the difference between Christian and Pagan。 I
may be a pagan； but I don't like the name； it sounds sectarian。 She
thinks me at any rate no better than an ancient Greek。 It's the
difference between making the most of life and making the least； so
that you'll get another better one in some other time and place。
Will it be a sin to make the most of that one； too； I wonder； and
shall we have to be bribed off in the future state as well as in the
present？ Perhaps I care too much for beautyI don't know； I doubt
if a poor devil CAN； I delight in it； I adore it； I think of it
continually； I try to produce it； to reproduce it。 My wife holds
that we shouldn't cultivate or enjoy it without extraordinary
precautions and reserves。 She's always afraid of it； always on her
guard。 I don't know what it can ever have done to her； what grudge
it owes her or what resentment rides。 And she's so pretty； too；
herself！ Don't you think she's lovely？ She was at any rate when we
married。 At that time I wasn't aware of that difference I speak of
I thought it all came to the same thing： in the end； as they say。
Well； perhaps it will in the end。 I don't know what the end will be。
Moreover； I care for seeing things as they are； that's the way I try
to show them in any professed picture。 But you mustn't talk to Mrs。
Ambient about things as they are。 She has a mortal dread of things
as they are。〃
〃She's afraid of them for Dolcino；〃 I said： surprised a moment
afterwards at being in a positionthanks to Miss Ambientto be so
explanatory； and surprised even now that Mark shouldn't have shown
visibly that he wondered what the deuce I knew about it。 But he
didn't； he simply declared with a tenderness that touched me： 〃Ah
nothing shall ever hurt HIM！〃
He told me more about his wife before we arrived at the gate of home；
and if he be judged to have aired overmuch his grievance I'm afraid I
must admit that he had some of the foibles as well as the gifts of
the artistic temperament； adding； however； instantly that hitherto；
to the best of my belief； he had rarely let this particular cat out
of the bag。 〃She thinks me immoralthat's the long and short of
it；〃 he said as we paused outside a moment and his hand rested on one
of the bars of his gate； while his conscious expressive perceptive
eyesthe eyes of a foreigner； I had begun to account them； much more
than of the usual Englishmanviewing me now evidently as quite a
familiar friend； took part in the declaration。 〃It's very strange
when one thinks it all over； and there's a grand comicality in it
that I should like to bring out。 She's a very nice woman；
extraordinarily well…behaved； upright and clever and with a
tremendous lot of good sense about a good many matters。 Yet her
conception of a novelshe has explained it to me once or twice； and
she doesn't do it badly as expositionis a thing so false that it
makes me blush。 It's a thing so hollow； so dishonest； so lying； in
which life is so blinked and blinded； so dodged and disfigured； that
it makes my ears burn。 It's two different ways of looking at the
whole affair；〃 he repeated； pushing open the gate。 〃And they're
irreconcilable！〃 he added with a sigh。 We went forward to the house；
but on the walk； half…way to the door； he stopped and said to me：
〃If you're going into this kind of thing there's a fact you should
know beforehand； it may save you some disappointment。 There's a
hatred of art； there's a hatred of literatureI mean of the genuine
kinds。 Oh the shamsthose they'll swallow by the bucket！〃 I looked
up at the charming house； with its genial colour and crookedness； and
I answered with a smile that those evil passions might exist； but
that I should never have expected to find them there。 〃Ah it doesn't
matter after all；〃 he a bit nervously laughed； which I was glad to
hear； for I was reproaching myself with having worked him up。
If I had it soon passed off； for at luncheon he was delightful；
strangely delightful considering that the difference between himself
and his wife was； as he had said； irreconcilable。 He had the art； by
his manner； by his smile； by his natural amenity； of reducing the
importance of it in the common concerns of life； and Mrs。 Ambient； I
must add； lent herself to this transaction with a very good grace。 I
watched her at table for further illustrations of that fixed idea of
which Miss Ambient had spoken to me； for in the light of the united
revelations of her sister…in…law and her husband she had come to seem
to me almost a sinister personage。 Yet the signs of a sombre
fanaticism were not more immediately striking in her than before； it
was only after a while that her air of incorruptible conformity； her
tapering monosyllabic correctness； began to affect me as in
themselves a cold thin flame。 Certainly； at first； she resembled a
woman with as few passions as possible； but if she had a passion at
all it would indeed be that of Philistinism。 She might have been
（for there are guardian…spirits； I suppose； of all great principles）
the very angel of the pink of proprietyputting the pink for a
principle； though I'd rather put some dismal cold blue。 Mark
Ambient； apparently； ten years before； had simply and quite
inevitably taken her for an angel； without asking himself of what。
He had been right in calling my attention to her beauty。 In looking
for some explanation of his original surrender to her I saw more than
before that she was； physically speaking； a wonderfully cultivated
human plantthat he might well have owed her a brief poetic
inspiration。 It was impossible to be more propped and pencilled；
more delicately tinted and petalled。
If I had had it in my heart to think my host a little of a hypocrite
for appearing to forget at table everything he had said to me in our
walk； I should instantly have cancelled such a judgement on
reflecting that the good news his wife was able to give him about
their little boy was ground enough for any optimistic reaction。 It
may have come partly； too； from a certain compunction at having
breathed to me at all harshly on the cool fair lady who sat therea
desire to prove himself not after all so mismated。 Dolcino continued
to be much better； and it had been promised him he should come
downstairs after his dinner。 As soon as we had risen from our own
meal Mark slipped away； evidently for the purpose of going to his
child； and no sooner had I observed this than I became aware his wife
had sim