THE SACRED FOUNT
"But the way you see!" I found my refuge in the gasp of my admiration.
"I do see. But"—he would come back to that—"only through your having seen first. You gave me the pieces. I've but put them together. You gave me the Brissendens—bound hand and foot; and I've but made them, in that sorry state, pull me through. I've blown on my torch, in other words, till, flaring and smoking, it has guided me, through a magnificent chiaroscuro of colour and shadow, out into the light of day."
I was really dazzled by his image, for it represented his personal work. "You've done more than I, it strikes me—and with less to do it with. If I gave you the Brissendens I gave you all I had."
"But all you had was immense, my dear man. The Brissendens are immense."
"Of course the Brissendens are immense! If they hadn't been immense they wouldn't have been—nothing would have been—anything." Then after a pause, "Your image is splendid," I went on—"your being out of the cave. But what is it exactly," I insidiously threw out, "that you call the 'light of day'?"
I remained a moment, however, not sure whether I had been too subtle or too simple. He had another of his cautions. "What do you———?"
But I was determined to make him give it me
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