He was counting the days to the trial: willing to accept an adverse decision; even punishment and misery and shame seemed better than doubt and waiting.

He surprised me by saying: "A year, Frank, they may give me a year?
half the possible sentence: the middle course, that English Judges always take: the sort of compromise they think safe ?" and his eyes searched my face for agreement.
I felt no such confidence in English Judges; their compromises are usually bargainings; when they get hold of an artist they give rein to their intuitive fear and hate.
But I would not discourage him.

I repeated: "You can win, Oscar, if you like:--" my litany to him.

His wan dejected smile brought tears to my eyes.
* * * * * "Don't you want to make them all speak of you and wonder at you again?
If you were in France, everyone would be asking: will he come back or disappear altogether?
or will he manifest himself henceforth in some new comedies, more joyous and pagan than ever ?" I might as well have talked to the dead: he seemed numbed, hypnotised with despair.

The punishment had already been greater than he could bear.