《未来千年文学备忘录》第29章

〃why；　my　good　man；　the　saint　is　sublime！〃　he　cried。　〃there　is　a　subtlety　of　imagination　about　those　two　figures；　the　saint　mary　and　the　shipman；　that　can　not　be　found　among　italian　masters；　i　do　not　know　a　single　one　of　them　capable　of　imagining　the　shipmans　hesitation。〃
〃did　that　little　malapert　e　with　you？〃　asked　porbus　of　the　older　man。
〃alas！　master；　pardon　my　boldness；〃　cried　the　neophyte；　and　the　color　mounted　to　his　face。　〃i　am　unknown……a　dauber　by　instinct；　and　but　lately　e　to　this　city……the　fountain…head　of　all　learning。〃
〃set　to　work；〃　said　porbus；　handing　him　a　bit　of　red　chalk　and　a　sheet　of　paper。
the　new…er　quickly　sketched　the　saint　mary　line　for　line。
〃aha！〃　exclaimed　the　old　man。　〃your　name？〃　he　added。
the　young　man　wrote　〃nicolas　poussin〃　below　the　sketch。
〃not　bad　that　for　a　beginning；〃　said　the　strange　speaker；　who　had　discoursed　so　wildly。　〃i　see　that　we　can　talk　of　art　in　your　presence。　i　do　not　blame　you　for　admiring　porbuss　saint。　in　the　eyes　of　the　world　she　is　a　masterpiece；　and　those　alone　who　have　been　initiated　into　the　inmost　mysteries　of　art　can　discover　her　shortings。　but　it　is　worth　while　to　give　you　the　lesson；　for　you　are　able　to　understand　it；　so　i　will　show　you　how　little　it　needs　to　plete　this　picture。　you　must　be　all　eyes；　all　attention；　for　it　may　be　that　such　a　chance　of　learning　will　never　e　in　your　way　again……porbus！　your　palette。〃
porbus　went　in　search　of　palette　and　brushes。　the　little　old　man　turned　back　his　sleeves　with　impatient　energy；　seized　the　palette；　covered　with　many　hues；　that　porbus　handed　to　him；　and　snatched　rather　than　took　a　handful　of　brushes　of　various　sizes　from　the　hands　of　his　acquaintance。　his　pointed　beard　suddenly　bristled……a　menacing　movement　that　expressed　the　prick　of　a　lovers　fancy。　as　he　loaded　his　brush；　he　muttered　between　his　teeth；　〃these　paints　are　only　fit　to　fling　out　of　the　window；　together　with　the　fellow　who　ground　them；　their　crudeness　and　falseness　are　disgusting！　how　can　one　paint　with　this？〃
he　dipped　the　tip　of　the　brush　with　feverish　eagerness　in　the　different　pigments；　making　the　circuit　of　the　palette　several　times　more　quickly　than　the　organist　of　a　cathedral　sweeps　the　octaves　on　the　keyboard　of　his　clavier　for　the　〃o　filii〃　at　easter。
porbus　and　poussin；　on　either　side　of　the　easel；　stood　stock…still；　watching　with　intense　interest。
〃look；　young　man；〃　he　began　again；　〃see　how　three　or　four　strokes　of　the　brush　and　a　thin　glaze　of　blue　let　in　the　free　air　to　play　about　the　head　of　the　poor　saint；　who　must　have　felt　stifled　and　oppressed　by　the　close　atmosphere！　see　how　the　drapery　begins　to　flutter；　you　feel　that　it　is　lifted　by　the　breeze！　a　moment　ago　it　hung　as　heavily　and　stiffly　as　if　it　were　held　out　by　pins。　do　you　see　how　the　satin　sheen　that　i　have　just　given　to　the　breast　rends　the　pliant；　silken　softness　of　a　young　girls　skin；　and　how　the　brown…red；　blended　with　burnt　ochre；　brings　warmth　into　the　cold　gray　of　the　deep　shadow　where　the　blood　lay　congealed　instead　of　coursing　through　the　veins？　young　man；　young　man；　no　master　could　teach　you　how　to　do　this　that　i　am　doing　before　your　eyes。　mabuse　alone　possessed　the　secret　of　giving　life　to　his　figures；　mabuse　had　but　one　pupil……that　was　i。　i　have　had　none；　and　i　am　old。　you　have　sufficient　intelligence　to　imagine　the　rest　from　the　glimpses　that　i　am　giving　you。〃
while　the　old　man　was　speaking；　he　gave　a　touch　here　and　there；　sometimes　two　strokes　of　the　brush；　sometimes　a　single　one；　but　every　stroke　told　so　well；　that　the　whole　picture　seemed　transfigured……the　painting　was　flooded　with　light。　he　worked　with　such　passionate　fervor　that　beads　of　sweat　gathered　upon　his　bare　forehead；　he　worked　so　quickly；　in　brief；　impatient　jerks；　that　it　seemed　to　young　poussin　as　if　some　familiar　spirit　inhabiting　the　body　of　this　strange　being　took　a　grotesque　pleasure　in　making　use　of　the　mans　hands　against　his　own　will。　the　unearthly　glitter　of　his　eyes；　the　convulsive　movements　that　seemed　like　struggles；　gave　to　this　fancy　a　semblance　of　truth　which　could　not　but　stir　a　young　imagination。　the　old　man　continued；　saying　as　he　did　so……
〃paf！　paf！　that　is　how　to　lay　it　on；　young　man！……little　touches！　e　and　bring　a　glow　into　those　icy　cold　tones　for　me！　just　so！　pon！　pon！　pon！〃　and　those　parts　of　the　picture　that　he　had　pointed　out　as　cold　and　lifeless　flushed　with　warmer　hues；　a　few　bold　strokes　of　color　brought　all　the　tones　of　the　picture　into　the　required　harmony　with　the　glowing　tints　of　the　egyptian；　and　the　differences　in　temperament　vanished。
〃look　you；　youngster；　the　last　touches　make　the　picture。　porbus　has　given　it　a　hundred　strokes　for　every　one　of　mine。　no　one　thanks　us　for　what　lies　beneath。　bear　that　in　mind。〃
at　last　the　restless　spirit　stopped；　and　turning　to　porbus　and　poussin；　who　were　speechless　with　admiration；　he　spoke……
〃this　is　not　as　good　as　my　belle　noiseuse；　still　one　might　put　ones　name　to　such　a　thing　as　this。……yes；　i　would　put　my　name　to　it；〃　he　added；　rising　to　reach　for　a　mirror；　in　which　he　looked　at　the　picture。……〃and　now；〃　he　said；　〃will　you　both　e　and　breakfast　with　me？　i　have　a　smoked　ham　and　some　very　fair　wine！。。。　eh！　eh！　the　times　may　be　bad；　but　we　can　still　have　some　talk　about　art！　we　can　talk　like　equals。。。。　here　is　a　little　fellow　who　has　aptitude；〃　he　added；　laying　a　hand　on　nicolas　poussins　shoulder。
in　this　way　the　stranger　became　aware　of　the　threadbare　condition　of　the　normans　doublet。　he　drew　a　leather　purse　from　his　girdle；　felt　in　it；　found　two　gold　coins；　and　held　them　out。
〃i　will　buy　your　sketch；〃　he　said。
〃take　it；〃　said　porbus；　as　he　saw　the　other　start　and　flush　with　embarrassment；　for　poussin　had　the　pride　of　poverty。　〃pray；　take　it；　he　has　a　couple　of　kings　ransoms　in　his　pouch！〃
the　three　came　down　together　from　the　studio；　and；　talking　of　art　by　the　way；　reached　a　picturesque　wooden　house　hard　by　the　pont　saint…michel。　poussin　wondered　a　moment　at　its　ornament；　at　the　knocker；　at　the　frames　of　the　casements；　at　the　scroll…work　designs；　and　in　the　next　he　stood　in　a　vast　low…ceiled　room。　a　table；　covered　with　tempting　dishes；　stood　near　the　blazing　fire；　and　（luck　un