pleased with your life in London that your gratitude to us brutal Saxons overcomes your judgment. I think you would have a better chance of the medal if you took a classic subject from Roman History. Moreover, it would give you an opportunity of showing your skill as a student of the figure. Siberia gives you no chance of a careful study of the nude or the semi-nude."
"No, but it gives me composition, color, sentiment, feeling, intensity of expression."
"If it engages your enthusiasm," said Dick, "do it, Philip! Never mind whether you get the medal or not. Success at the Academy is a good deal of a lottery, and a medal won by pandering to Academic methods of faddism is not worth having."
"Thank you, old fellow," said Philip; "you are to me as great a stimulus as success itself. Have a drink, and I will tell you about that woman you see in the foreground looking defiance at the brutal Cossack."
It was one of the first days of the early spring. A few flakes of snow were flying about in the sunshine, looking like scattered cherry blossoms. Philip called Dick's attention to them as he drew down a blind to keep out the sudden sunshine that sent a white beam right across his picture.
"Let us welcome the Spring," said Philip, going to a cabinet and producing a bottle of champagne. "You have had luncheon?"
"Yes. You are a luxurious dog, Philip."
"No. I sometimes don't drink a glass of wine for days together, not even at dinner. This is a brand you will approve of; it is like the English Spring, a flash of liquid sunshine."
"Here's success to 'Tragedy!'" said Dick, taking up the glass his host had filled.
"And here's to Spring!" said Philip. "The loveliest
