There were so much too many things in this question to be answered at once that they practically checked the discussion, which became particularly difficult in the light of such renewed proof that, though the young man’s innocence might, in the course of his studies, as he contended, somewhat have shrunken, the finer essence of it still remained.  That was indeed exactly what Peter had assumed and what above all he desired; yet perversely enough it gave him a chill.  The boy believed in the cabals and things, believed in the peculiar line, believed, to be brief, in the Master.  What happened a month or two later wasn’t that he went up again at the expense of his godfather, but that a fortnight after he had got settled in Paris this personage sent him fifty pounds.

He had meanwhile at home, this personage, made up his mind to the worst; and what that might be had never yet grown quite so vivid to him as when, on his presenting himself one Sunday night, as he never failed to do, for supper, the mistress of Carrara Lodge met him with an appeal as to—­of all things in the world—­the wealth of the Canadians.  She was earnest, she was even excited.  ’Are many of them really rich?’

He had to confess he knew nothing about them, but he often thought afterwards of that evening.  The room in which they sat was adorned with sundry specimens of the Master’s genius, which had the merit of being, as Mrs Mallow herself frequently suggested, of an unusually convenient size.  They were indeed of dimensions not customary in the products of the chisel, and they had the singularity that, if the objects and features intended to be small looked too large, the objects and features intended to be large looked too small.  The Master’s idea, either in respect to this matter or to any other, had in almost any case, even after years, remained undiscoverable to Peter Brench.  The creations that so failed to reveal it stood about on pedestals and brackets, on tables and shelves, a little staring white population, heroic, idyllic, allegoric, mythic, symbolic, in which ‘scale’ had so strayed and lost itself that the public square and the chimney-piece seemed to have changed places, the monumental being all diminutive and the diminutive all monumental; branches at any rate, markedly, of a family in which stature was rather oddly irrespective of function, age and sex.  They formed, like the Mallows themselves, poor Brench’s own family—­having at least to such a degree the note of familiarity.  The occasion was one of those he had long ago learnt to know and to name—­short flickers of the faint flame, soft gusts of a kinder air.  Twice a year regularly the Master believed in his fortune, in addition to believing all the year round in his genius.  This time it was to be made by a bereaved couple from Toronto, who had given him the handsomest order for a tomb to three lost children, each of whom they desired to see, in the composition, emblematically and characteristically represented.