"I did not write for money,"--interrupted Alwyn quietly.. "Nor shall I ever do so."
"Of course not," assented Villiers promptly. "No poet, and indeed no author whatsoever, who lays claim to a fraction of conscience, writes for money ONLY. Those with whom money is the first consideration debase their Art into a coarse huckstering trade, and are no better than contentious bakers and cheesemongers, who jostle each other in a vulgar struggle as to which shall sell perishable goods at the highest profit. None of the lasting works of the world were written so. Nevertheless, if the public voluntarily choose to lavish what they can of their best on the author who imparts to them inspired thoughts and noble teachings, then that author must not be churlish, or slow to accept the gratitude implied. I think the most appropriate maxim for a poet to address to his readers is, 'Freely ye have received, freely give.'"
There was a moment's silence. Alwyn resumed his seat in the chair near the fire, and Villiers, leaning one arm on the mantelpiece, still stood, looking down upon him.
"Such, my dear fellow," he went on complacently.. "is the history of the success of 'Nourhalma.' It certainly began with the belief that you were no longer able to benefit by the eulogy received.-- but all the same that eulogy has been uttered and cannot be UNuttered. It has led all the lovers of the highest literature to get the book for themselves, and to prove your actual worth, independently of press opinions,--and the result is an immense and steadily widening verdict in your favor. Speaking personally, I have never read anything that gave me quite so much artistic pleasure as this poem of yours except 'Hyperion,'--only 'Hyperion' is distinctly classical, while 'Nourhalma' takes us back into some hitherto unexplored world of antique paganism, which, though essentially pagan, is wonderfully full of pure and lofty sentiment. When did the idea first strike you?"
"A long time ago!" returned Alwyn with a slight, serious smile--"I assure you it is by no means original!"
Villiers gave him a quick, surprised glance.
"No? Well, it seems to me singularly original!" he said.. "In fact, one of your critics says you are TOO original! Mind you, Alwyn, that is a very serious fault in this imitative age!"
Alwyn laughed a little. His thoughts were very busy. Again in imagination he beheld the burning "Temple of Nagaya" in his Dream of Al-Kyris,--again he saw himself carrying the corpse of his FORMER Self through fire and flame,--and again he heard the last words of the dying Zabastes--"I was the Poet's adverse Critic, and who but I should write his Eulogy? Save me, if only for the sake of Sah-luma's future honor!--thou knowest not how warmly, how generously, how nobly, I can praise the dead!"