THE AMERICAN
sible than his philosophy had hitherto dreamt of had already taken possession of him, and it seemed softly and agreeably to deepen as he lounged in this rich corner of Paris with his friend.
I must confess," he presently went on, that I don't here at all feel my value. My remarkable talents seem of no use. It's as if I were as simple as a little child, and as if a little child might take me by the hand and lead me about."
"Oh, I 'll be your little child," said Tristram jovially; "I'll take you by the hand. Trust yourself to me."
"I'm a grand good worker," Newman continued, "but I've come abroad to amuse myself; though I doubt if I very well know how."
"Oh, that's easily learned."
"Well, I may perhaps learn it, but I'm afraid I shall never do it by rote. I've the best will in the world about it, but my genius does n't lie in that direction. Besides," Newman pursued, "I don't want to work at pleasure, any more than ever I played at work. I want to let myself, let everything go. I feel coarse and loose and I should like to spend six months as I am now, sitting under a tree and listening to a band. There's only one thing: I want to hear some first-class music."
"First-class music and first-class pictures? Lord, what refined tastes! You've what my wife calls a rare mind. I have n't a bit. But we can find something better for you to do than to sit under a tree. To begin with, you must come to the club."
"What club?"
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