"You do not! I don't understand a thing you say but I think it's wonderful. You go right ahead."
"For God's sake, Lucy, don't encourage him," Beman said, rising. "You see? No subject is so boring, or will clear the room faster, than artists' problems," Vermillion said to Lucy.
Beman, irritated, said, "You fellows always think you are special. No one else expects to be supported without working."
"I don't think my painting is necessary to anyone but myself, and so no one owes me a living," Vermillion said mildly. "Since I'm selfishly indulging myself, I don't care what anyone thinks—as much as I do, that is, about my painting. If I'm not pleased, no one can convince me. And the most difficult task for any artist is to convince himself, so occasionally he has to talk out loud to himself. Besides, I would like to know what I think."
Figente chortled, and Semy stored away the last comment for future use.
"You're just like me," Lucy told Vermillion. "I love to find out about myself, too."
"I don't limit art to painting, writing, and composing," Beman insisted, wishing someone would speak up for his own creative role in the theatre. "A fine chef is a great artist—in fact I believe Arnold of the Henri Quatre is a genius."
"Beman's right about Vermillion being too definitive as to what art is," Damon St. John said, "though I'm not sure about the chef as an artist. I'll have to think about that. I know Vermillion doesn't consider scene designing—lighting as a kind of painting—as important as easel painting, but I do think it adds luster to the drama."
"You mean lighting puts the play in the shade?" Vermillion was cross at being drawn into the endless argument. "I'm not an admirer of the Gross-Schauspiel Haus theatre and its interminable levels and mobs of extras running up and down red-carpeted stairs going nowhere not fast enough. Raise your curtain on the most splendiferous a la Appia-Gordon Craig-Reinhardt-Jessner set devised and see how long an audience will sit without the play. A singer like Simone, without any setting, can create an illusion of a world all by herself in a minute."
"I really think you are being deliberately contrary," Damon began heatedly.
"Damon, douse your luster," Figente ordered.
"For God's sake, Beman, let's go," Tessie said pettishly, worn
