“I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. Always. When she had finished the first tale, there was a sense of disappointment. The streets were full of colour. Ill-drawn, without method or sense of proportion, you have put wonderful things on to canvas, have drawn them out of yourself, notwithstanding your mechanical inefficiency. Even the love of a mother does not sway him. A sarcastic smile seemed to play upon the chief-taker's lips; and abashed at his own irresolution, the lad went on. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming. Of animal life, there was nothing left but monkeys and wild pig, the latter having been domesticated.
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