And you, as an artist, can tell me that at present great artists invariably do starve, except when they are kept alive by charity, private fortune, or some drudgery which hinders them in the pursuit of their vocation." "Oh!" said Erskine.

"Then Socialists have some little sympathy with artists after all." "I fear," said Trefusis, repressing himself and speaking quietly again, "that when a Socialist hears of a hundred pounds paid for a drawing which Andrea del Sarto was glad to sell for tenpence, his heart is not wrung with pity for the artist's imaginary loss as that of a modern capitalist is.

Yet that is the only way nowadays of enlisting sympathy for the old masters.

Frightful disability, to be out of the reach of the dearest market when you want to sell your drawings! But," he added, giving himself a shake, and turning round gaily, "I did not come here to talk shop.

So--pending the deluge--let us enjoy ourselves after our manner." "No," said Jane.