the difficult circumstances, the silencing minatory finger—wait, wait, you’re taking it the wrong way—and at last the high-pitched, colourless, thinking voice in brief comprehensive judgment; the shattering of the bright scene, the end of the triumphant visit, with a day still to pass, going about branded as an admirer of poor stuff.
“That is no opinion . It is simply a literary finessing. I will tell you more . This judgment indicates an immense blindness. There is in Andrayeff a directness and simplicity of feeling towards life that is entirely lacking in this man.”
“Mm. Perhaps the Russians are more simple; less” … civilised.
“Simplicity and directness of feeling does not necessarily indicate a less highly organised psychological temperament.”
“I know what he meant. Andrayeff does try deliberately to work on your feelings. I felt that when I was writing. But the pathos of those little boys and the man with the Chinese mask is his subject . What he does is artistic exaggeration. That is Art. Light and shade;” … a “masterly study” of a little boy. … ?
“Very well then. What is the matter?”
“No, but I’m just thinking the whole trouble is that life is not pathetic. People don’t feel pathetic; or never altogether pathetic. There is something else; that’s the worst of novels, something that has to be left out. Tragedy; curtain. But there never is a curtain and even if there were, the astounding thing is that there is anything to let down a curtain on; so astounding that you can’t feel really, completely, things like ‘happiness’ or ‘tragedy’; they are both the same, a half-statement. Everybody is the same really, inside, under all circumstances. There’s a dead-level of astounding. … something .”