Let us go into the smoking-room now." He threw himself down into a settee, and motioned Robert into the armchair in front of him.
"Light a cigar," he said.

"Press the spring if there is any refreshment which you would like.

Now, my dear Robert, confess to me in the first place that you have often thought me mad." The charge was so direct and so true that the young artist hesitated, hardly knowing how to answer.
"My dear boy, I do not blame you.

It was the most natural thing in the world.

I should have looked upon anyone as a madman who had talked to me as I have talked to you.