All the more that you have been to see me so little.
You have come to see my sister; I know that. But you haven't come to see me -
the celebrated artist. Artists are very sensitive, you know; they notice those
things.« And Felix turned round, smiling, with a brush in his mouth.
    Mr. Brand stood there with a certain blank, candid majesty, pulling together
the large flaps of his umbrella. »Why should I come to see you?« he asked. »I
know nothing of Art.«
    »It would sound very conceited, I suppose,« said Felix, »if I were to say
that it would be a good little chance for you to learn something. You would ask
me why you should learn; and I should have no answer to that. I suppose a
minister has no need for Art, eh?«
    »He has need for good temper, sir,« said Mr. Brand, with decision.
    Felix jumped up, with his palette on his thumb and a movement of the
liveliest deprecation. »That's because I keep you standing there while I splash
my red paint! I beg a thousand pardons! You see what bad manners Art gives a
man; and how right you are to let it alone. I didn't mean you should stand,
either. The piazza, as you see, is ornamented with rustic chairs; though indeed
I ought to warn you that they have nails in the wrong places. I was just making
a note of that sunset. I never saw such a blaze of different reds. It looks as
if the Celestial City were in flames, eh? If that were really the case I suppose
it would be the business of you theologians to put out the fire. Fancy me - an
ungodly artist - quietly sitting down to paint it!«
    Mr. Brand had always credited Felix Young with a certain impudence, but it
appeared to him that on this occasion his impudence was so great as to make a
special explanation - or even an apology - necessary. And the impression, it
must be added, was sufficiently natural. Felix had at all times a brilliant
assurance of manner which was simply the vehicle of his good spirits and his
good will; but at present he had a special design, and as he would have admitted
that the design was audacious, so he was conscious of having summoned all the
arts of conversation to his aid. But he was so far from desiring to offend his
visitor that he was rapidly asking himself what personal compliment
