Taine himself. The distinguished
writers, and critics; the representatives of the social world and of
wealth; Conrad Lagrange with cold, cynical, mocking, smile; Mrs. Taine
with her pretense of modest dress that only emphasized her immodesty; and,
in the midst of the unclean minded crew, the lovely innocence and the
unconscious purity of the mountain girl with her violin, offering to them
that which they were incapable of receiving--it was all there upon the
canvas, as the artist had seen it that night. The picture cried aloud the
intellectual degradation and the spiritual depravity of that class who,
arrogating to themselves the authority of leaders in culture and art, by
their approval and patronage of dangerous falsehood and sham in picture or
story, make possible such characters as James Rutlidge.
Aaron King, watching Mrs. Taine as she looked at the picture on the easel,
saw a look of doubt and uncertainty come over her face. Once, she turned
toward him, as if to speak; but, without a word, looked again at the
canvas. She seemed perplexed and puzzled, as though she caught glimpses of
something in the picture that she did not rightly understand Then, as she
looked, her eyes kindled with contemptuous scorn, and there was a
pronounced sneer in her cold tones as she said, "Really, I don't believe I
care for you to do this sort of thing.
Pages:
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499