ded as an historical character, and a much more simple one
than Napoleon. I have heard anarchists in bar-rooms talk about him by
the hour, sometimes very graphically and always with a certain amount
of wit. No, it is all the same.... Moore, now that he has been to
Palestine and read the gospels, feels as well acquainted with Christ
and Paul as he does with Edward Martyn and Yeats and Lady Gregory."

"I must fall back on the personal then," said Sitgreaves, now really
at bay, "and say that I am less moved and interested when Moore is
describing Evelyn Innes, than when he tells of his affair with Doris
at Orelay."

"I am glad that you mentioned 'Evelyn Innes' again," I said, "because
it is in this very book that he is said to have painted so many of his
friends. Ulick Dean is undoubtedly Yeats. It has been suggested that
Arnold Dolmetsch posed for the portrait of Evelyn's father.
Dolmetsch's testimony on this point goes farther. He says that he
dictated certain passages in the book...."

"What is it, then? What is the difference? There is some difference,
of that I am sure...."

"The difference is--" I began when the door opened and Marcel entered,
the most amazingly comprehensive smile on his countenance.
"_Mademoiselle vous attend_," he said, and he looked the question.
"Shall I bring her in here?"

Sitgreaves answered it immediately, "_Je viens_." And then to me,
"Wait," as he vanished through the doorway.... I walked to the window,
drew aside the red curtains, and looked out into the fountain-splashed
court below....

* * * * *

"What is the difference?"

"I suppose it is that you prefer the new Moore to the old Moore, the
author of the later and better written books to the author of the
earlier ones. 'Evelyn Innes' was many times rewritten. Moore has said
that he could never get it to suit him, but he has also said,
recently, that he would never rewrite another book (a resolution he
has not kept). 'Memoirs of My Dead Life' and 'Hail and Farewell' do
not need rewriting. They are written to stand. 'The Brook Kerith,'
perhaps, you will find equally to your taste. It will be the newest
Moore...."

"You have explained to me," said Sitgreaves, "the difference: it is
one of development. Now that I think of it I don't believe that
Anatole France could write 'The Brook Kerith.'... It would be too
symbolical, too cynical, in his hands. Moore will perhaps make it
more human, by knowin