Day by day as the work progressed, and the actors came to know their lines, Thyrsis’ excitement grew. The great machine was running, he was getting some sense of the power of it! And new aspects of it were revealed to him; there came the composer who was to do the incidental music, and the orchestra-leader who was to conduct it; there came the costume-designer and the scene-painter, and even the press-agent who was to “boost” the play, and wanted picturesque details about the author’s life. Corydon and Thyrsis were invited to go with Mr. Tilford to select a wig, and with Mr. Tapping to see the carpenters who were building the various “sets”, in a big loft over near the North River. As the two walked home each day after these adventures, it was all they could do to keep from hugging each other on the street. It was a thing of especial moment to Thyrsis, because it was the first time in his life that his art had received any assistance from the outside world--the first time this world had done anything but scold at him and mock him. Here at last was recognition--here was success! Here were material things submitting themselves to his vision, coming to him humbly to be taught, and to co-operate in the creation of beauty! So Thyrsis caught sudden glimpses of what his life might have been. He was like a man who had been chained in a black dungeon, and who now gets sight of the green earth and the blue sky, and smells the perfume of the flowers and hears the singing of the birds. With forces such as this at his command, the power of his vision would be multiplied tenfold; and he was transported with the delight of the discovery, he and Corydon found their souls once more in this new hope. So out of these moods there began the burgeoning of new plans in his mind. Even amid the rush of rehearsals, he was dreaming of other things to write; some time before “The Genius” had reached the public, he had finished the writing of “The Utopians”--that fragment of a vision which was perhaps the greatest thing he ever did, and certainly the most characteristic. Section 8. As usual, the immediate occasion of the writing was trivial enough. It was his “leading lady” who was responsible for it. Miss Lewis had taken a curious fancy to Thyrsis--he was a new type to her, and it pleased her to explore him. “How in the world did you ever get him to marry you?” she would exclaim to Corydon. “I could as soon imagine a marble statue making love to me!” And she told others about this strange poet, who was obviously almost starving, and yet had refused to let Richard Haberton revise his play for him, and had all but refused to let Robertson Jones Inc., produce it. Before long she came to Thyrsis to say that one of her friends desired to meet him, and would he come to a supper-party. Thyrsis heard this with perplexity. “A supper-party!” he exclaimed. “But I can’t!” “Why not?” “Why--I have no clothes.”