Alwyn met his bright, satirical glance with a look that was half-questioning, half-wistful, but said nothing.

“It was the most laughable, and at the same time the most beautifully instructive, lesson ever taught by the whole annals of journalism!  The Press turned round like a weathercock with the wind, and exhausted every epithet of abuse they could find in the dictionaries.  ‘Nourhalma’ was a ’poor, ill-conceived work,’—­’an outrage to intellectual perception,’—­’a good idea, spoilt in the treatment; an amazingly obscure attempt at sublimity’—­et cetera, . . but there! you can yourself peruse all the criticisms, both favorable and adverse, for I have acted the part of the fond granny to you in the careful cutting out and pasting of everything I could find written concerning you and your work in a book devoted to the purpose, . . and I believe I’ve missed nothing.  Mark you, however, the Parthenon never reversed its judgment, nor did the other two leading journals of literary opinion,—­it wouldn’t do for such bigwigs to confess they had blundered, you know! ... and the vituperation of the smaller fry was just the other weight in the balance which made the thing equal.  The sale of ‘Nourhalma’ grew fast and furious; all expenses were cleared three times over, and at the present moment the publisher is getting conscientiously anxious (for some publishers are more conscientious than some authors will admit!) to hand you over a nice little check for an amount which is not to be despised in this workaday world, I assure you!”

“I did not write for money,”—­interrupted Alwyn quietly..  “Nor shall I ever do so.”

“Of course not,” assented Villiers promptly.  “No poet, and indeed no author whatsoever, who lays claim to a fraction of conscience, writes for money only.  Those with whom money is the first consideration debase their Art into a coarse huckstering trade, and are no better than contentious bakers and cheesemongers, who jostle each other in a vulgar struggle as to which shall sell perishable goods at the highest profit.  None of the lasting works of the world were written so.  Nevertheless, if the public voluntarily choose to lavish what they can of their best on the author who imparts to them inspired thoughts and noble teachings, then that author must not be churlish, or slow to accept the gratitude implied.  I think the most appropriate maxim for a poet to address to his readers is, ’Freely ye have received, freely give.’”

There was a moment’s silence.  Alwyn resumed his seat in the chair near the fire, and Villiers, leaning one arm on the mantelpiece, still stood, looking down upon him.