about the pecuniary arrangements between
`Pray excuse me. But could you contrive to speak in a lower key? In the wretched state of my nerves, loud sound of any kind is indescribable torture to me. You will pardon an invalid? I only say to you what the lamentable state of my health obliges me to say to everybody. Yes. And you really like the room?’
`I could wish for nothing prettier and nothing more comfortable,’ I answered, dropping my voice, and beginning to discover already that Mr Fairlie’s selfish affectation and Mr Fairlie’s wretched nerves meant one and the same thing.
`So glad. You will find your position here, Mr Hartright, properly recognised. There is none of the horrid English barbarity of feeling about the social position of an artist in this house. So much of my early life has been passed abroad, that I have quite cast my insular skin in that respect. I wish I could say the same of the gentry — detestable word, but I suppose I must use it — of the gentry in the neighbourhood. They are sad Goths in Art, Mr Hartright. People, I do assure you, who would have opened their eyes in astonishment, if they had seen Charles the fifth pick up Titian’s brush for him. Do you mind putting this tray of coins back in the cabinet, and giving me the next one to it? In the wretched state of my nerves, exertion of any kind is unspeakably disagreeable to me. Yes. Thank you.’
As a practical commentary on the liberal social theory which he had just favoured me by illustrating, Mr Fairlie’s cool request rather amused me. I put back one drawer and gave him the other, with all possible politeness. He began trifling with the new set of coins and the little brushes immediately; languidly looking at them and admiring them all the time he was speaking to me.
`A thousand thanks and a thousand excuses. Do you like coins? Yes. So glad we have another taste in common besides our taste for Art. Now, about the pecuniary arrangements between us — do tell me — are they satisfactory?’
`Most satisfactory, Mr Fairlie.’
`So glad. And — what next? Ah! I remember. Yes. In reference to the consideration which you are good enough to accept for giving me the benefit of your accomplishments in art, my steward will wait on you at the end of the fist week, to ascertain your wishes. And — what next? Curious, is it not? I had a great deal more to say: and I appear to have quite forgotten it. Do you mind touching the bell? In that corner. Yes. Thank you.’
I rang; and a new servant noiselessly made his appearance — a foreigner, with a set smile and perfectly brushed hair — a valet every inch of him.
`Louis,’ said Mr Fairlie, dreamily dusting the tips of his fingers with one of the tiny brushes for the coins, `I made some entries in my tablettes this morning. Find my tablettes. A thousand pardons, Mr Hartright, I’m afraid I bore you.’
Processing your request, Please wait....
