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WHEN Dick Naseby was in Paris he made some odd acquaintances；
for he was one of those who have ears to hear； and can use
their eyes no less than their intelligence。 He made as many
thoughts as Stuart Mill； but his philosophy concerned flesh
and blood； and was experimental as to its method。 He was a
type…hunter among mankind。 He despised small game and
insignificant personalities； whether in the shape of dukes or
bagmen； letting them go by like sea…weed； but show him a
refined or powerful face； let him hear a plangent or a
penetrating voice； fish for him with a living look in some
one's eye； a passionate gesture； a meaning and ambiguous
smile； and his mind was instantaneously awakened。 'There was
a man； there was a woman；' he seemed to say； and he stood up
to the task of comprehension with the delight of an artist in
his art。
And indeed； rightly considered； this interest of his was an
artistic interest。 There is no science in the personal study
of human nature。 All comprehension is creation； the woman I
love is somewhat of my handiwork； and the great lover； like
the great painter； is he that can so embellish his subject as
to make her more than human； whilst yet by a cunning art he
has so based his apotheosis on the nature of the case that
the woman can go on being a true woman； and give her
character free play； and show littleness； or cherish spite；
or be greedy of common pleasures； and he continue to worship
without a thought of incongruity。 To love a character is
only the heroic way of understanding it。 When we love； by
some noble method of our own or some nobility of mien or
nature in the other； we apprehend the loved one by what is
noblest in ourselves。 When we are merely studying an
eccentricity； the method of our study is but a series of
allowances。 To begin to understand is to begin to
sympathise； for comprehension comes only when we have stated
another's faults and virtues in terms of our own。 Hence the
proverbial toleration of artists for their own evil
creations。 Hence； too； it came about that Dick Naseby； a
high…minded creature； and as scrupulous and brave a gentleman
as you would want to meet； held in a sort of affection the
various human creeping things whom he had met and studied。
One of these was Mr。 Peter Van Tromp； an English…speaking；
two…legged animal of the international genus； and by
profession of general and more than equivocal utility。 Years
before he had been a painter of some standing in a colony；
and portraits signed 'Van Tromp' had celebrated the greatness
of colonial governors and judges。 In those days he had been
married； and driven his wife and infant daughter in a pony
trap。 What were the steps of his declension？ No one exactly
knew。 Here he was at least； and had been any time these past
ten years； a sort of dismal parasite upon the foreigner in
Paris。
It would be hazardous to specify his exact industry。
Coarsely followed； it would have merited a name grown
somewhat unfamiliar to our ears。 Followed as he followed it；
with a skilful reticence； in a kind of social chiaroscuro； it
was still possible for the polite to call him a professional
painter。 His lair was in the Grand Hotel and the gaudiest
cafes。 There he might be seen jotting off a sketch with an
air of some inspiration； and he was always affable； and one
of the easiest of men to fall in talk withal。 A conversation
usually ripened into a peculiar sort of intimacy； and it was
extraordinary how many little services Van Tromp contrived to
render in the course of six…and…thirty hours。 He occupied a
position between a friend and a courier； which made him worse
than embarrassing to repay。 But those whom he obliged could
always buy one of his villainous little pictures； or； where
the favours had been prolonged and more than usually
delicate； might order and pay for a large canvas； with
perfect certainty that they would hear no more of the
transaction。
Among resident artists he enjoyed celebrity of a non…
professional sort。 He had spent more money … no less than
three individual fortunes； it was whispered … than any of his
associates could ever hope to gain。 Apart from his colonial
career； he had been to Greece in a brigantine with four brass
carronades； he had travelled Europe in a chaise and four；
drawing bridle at the palace…doors of German princes； queens
of song and dance had followed him like sheep and paid his
tailor's bills。 And to behold him now； seeking small loans
with plaintive condescension； sponging for breakfast on an
art…student of nineteen； a fallen Don Juan who had neglected
to die at the propitious hour； had a colour of romance for
young imaginations。 His name and his bright past； seen
through the prism of whispered gossip； had gained him the
nickname of THE ADMIRAL。
Dick found him one day at the receipt of custom； rapidly
painting a pair of hens and a cock in a little water…colour
sketching box； and now and then glancing at the ceiling like
a man who should seek inspiration from the muse。 Dick
thought it remarkable that a painter should choose to work
over an absinthe in a public cafe； and looked the man over。
The aged rakishness of his appearance was set off by a
youthful costume； he had disreputable grey hair and a
disreputable sore； red nose； but the coat and the gesture；
the outworks of the man； were still designed for show。 Dick
came up to his table and inquired if he might look at what
the gentleman was doing。 No one was so delighted as the
Admiral。
'A bit of a thing；' said he。 'I just dash them off like
that。 I … I dash them off；' he added with a gesture。
'Quite so；' said Dick； who was appalled by the feebleness of
the production。
'Understand me；' continued Van Tromp； 'I am a man of the
world。 And yet … once an artist always an artist。 All of a
sudden a thought takes me in the street； I become its prey：
it's like a pretty woman； no use to struggle； I must … dash
it off。'
'I see；' said Dick。
'Yes；' pursued the painter； 'it all comes easily； easily to
me； it is not my business； it's a pleasure。 Life is my
business … life … this great city； Paris … Paris after dark …
its lights； its gardens； its odd corners。 Aha！' he cried；
'to be young again！ The heart is young； but the heels are
leaden。 A poor； mean business； to grow old！ Nothing remains
but the COUP D'OEIL； the contemplative man's enjoyment； Mr。 …
；' and he paused for the name。
'Naseby；' returned Dick。
The other treated him at once to an exciting beverage； and
expatiated on the pleasure of meeting a compatriot in a
foreign land； to hear him； you would have thought they had
encountered in Central Africa。 Dick had never found any one
take a fancy to him so readily； nor show it in an easier or
less offensive manner。 He seemed tickled with him as an
elderly fellow about town might be tickled by a pleasant and
witty lad； he indicated that he was no precision； but in his
wildest times had never been such a blade as he thought Dick。
Dick protested； but in vain。 This manner of carrying an
intimacy at the bayonet's point was Van Tromp's stock…in…
trade。 With an older man he insinuated himself； with youth
he imposed himself； and in the same breath imposed an ideal
on his victim； who saw that he must work up to it or lose the
esteem of this old and vicious patron。 And what young man
can bear to lose a character for vice？
At last； as it grew towards dinner…time； 'Do you know Paris？'
asked Van Tromp。
'Not so well as you； I am convinced；' said Dick。
'And so am I；' returned Van Tromp gaily。 'Paris！ My young
friend … you will allow me？ … when you know Paris as I do；
you will have seen Strange Things。 I say no more； all I say
is； Strange Things。 We are men of the world； you and I； and
in Paris； in the heart of civilised existence。 This is an
opportunity； Mr。 Naseb