Access Online - The European Library
Access Online - The European Library Access Online - The European Library
2ARIADNE.know whether his work wore well. ButImadeenough tolive onand get bread for Pales. Thatsufficed.Very oftenIwould go and look at my lostHercnesin the gallery of the Vatican. Imightas well never have soldhim;butwe know everythingtoo late.And when the gaping foreign crowds,allfrothytalk,andnota shred of knowledge orof reverenceamidst them, gathered round the pedestal hestood on, and praised him,Iwanted to cry outto them, " Stand aside, ye fools — he is mine."But he was not mine any more.SometimesIused to wonder, would she besorryif she knew thatIhad lost him?But no doubt he was better there, and morefittingly in place with the Jupiter Anxur in thepalace of the Pope. Ihad never been greatenough for him;Ihad only loved him, and whatuse is that?Time wore away,Isay, and took the days andthe weeks and the months, and Rome was sweptwith the by-winds of winter and scorched withthe sand-blasts of the summer, and its travertine
ARIADNE. 3and its porphyry^ and its old brick that has thehuesof porphyry,were transfiguredintomatchlessglory with every sun that set; and my Ariadnecame thither no more."Where was she ? Iknew not. She was notforsaken, since Maryx stayed on in the cityalways,andIknew well that he wouldnot forgetthat unuttered oath by the Cross.He was shut for ever inhis roomat work,theysaid. To my sight, all the greatness had goneout of his work. But the world didnot see this.Before a great fame the world is a myope.The cunning of his hand, and the force of it,and the grace,were all there as of old,of course;for the consummate artist, by long mastery ofhis art, does acquire at last what is almost amechanical aptitude, and can scarcely do ill, sofar as mereform goes,eVen working with blindeyes. But the soul of all art lies in the artist'sown delight in it; and that was now lackingforever in his. These things that he createdhadno joy for him.Men and women, losing the tiring theylove,lose much, but the artist loses far more; forB 2
- Page 5 and 6: ARIADNE
- Page 7 and 8: AriadneTHE STORY OF A DREAM.By OUID
- Page 9: ABIADNE:THE STORY OF A DREAM.CHAPTE
- Page 13 and 14: ARIADNE. 5like the moorlands of the
- Page 15 and 16: ARIADNE. 7whiteness. We had walked
- Page 17 and 18: ARIADNE. 9The lamp that he held he
- Page 19 and 20: ARIADNE. 11dead. Icare for the marb
- Page 21 and 22: ARIADNE. 13silvery aboutmy feet, an
- Page 23 and 24: ARIADNE. 15before the genius of his
- Page 25 and 26: ARIADNE. 17that is never dim. But m
- Page 27 and 28: ARIADNE. 19laid bare all the jewels
- Page 29 and 30: ARIADNE. 21it, but only saw the loc
- Page 31 and 32: ARIADNE. 23times; nervous depressio
- Page 33 and 34: ARIADNE. 25forgot them: what matter
- Page 35: ARIADNE. 27tered many curses and fe
- Page 38 and 39: 30ARIADNE.Would the wealth all fall
- Page 40 and 41: 32ARIADNE.their cuirasses of steel,
- Page 42 and 43: CHAPTER IVIwent to Pippo, andIsaid
- Page 44 and 45: 36ARIADNE.AndItook the other things
- Page 46 and 47: 38 ARIADNE.must have been, all alon
- Page 48 and 49: 40 ARIADNE.Ifelt my head whirl;I, w
- Page 50 and 51: 42 ARIADNE.at a line of the poem no
- Page 52: 44 ARIADNE.me, and stayed on in Par
- Page 55 and 56: ARIADNE. 47had been able to hear no
- Page 57 and 58: ARIADNE. 49aside in a little passag
- Page 59 and 60: ARIADNE. 51Myheart stood stUl. Ihad
ARIADNE. 3and its porphyry^ and its old brick that has thehuesof porphyry,were transfiguredintomatchlessglory with every sun that set; and my Ariadnecame thither no more."Where was she ? Iknew not. She was notforsaken, since Maryx stayed on in the cityalways,andIknew well that he wouldnot forgetthat unuttered oath by the Cross.He was shut for ever inhis roomat work,theysaid. To my sight, all the greatness had goneout of his work. But the world didnot see this.Before a great fame the world is a myope.<strong>The</strong> cunning of his hand, and the force of it,and the grace,were all there as of old,of course;for the consummate artist, by long mastery ofhis art, does acquire at last what is almost amechanical aptitude, and can scarcely do ill, sofar as mereform goes,eVen working with blindeyes. But the soul of all art lies in the artist'sown delight in it; and that was now lackingforever in his. <strong>The</strong>se things that he createdhadno joy for him.Men and women, losing the tiring theylove,lose much, but the artist loses far more; forB 2
Change language