He went on to tell Thyrsis what had happened. He and Mrs. Darrell had gone down to the farm to see about getting it ready, and a woman had come, representing that she wished to write a magazine article about “the country-homes of literary Americans”. Upon this pretext she had secured a photograph of the place, and of Darrell, and of his wife and child. She had even attempted to secure a photograph of his wife’s aged mother, who lived with her, and who was involved in the affair because the money belonged to her. Then the woman had gone away--and a couple of weeks later had come this! “And I thought they were through with us!” Darrell whispered, with a shudder. “I thought it was all over!” He sat in a chair, with his face hid in his arms. Thyrsis put his hand upon his shoulder, and the man caught it. “Listen,” he exclaimed. “You can see this thing from the outside, you know the literary world. Do you think that I can ever rise above this? Is there any use in trying?” “How do you mean?” Thyrsis asked, perplexed. “I mean--is it worth while for me to go on writing? Can I ever have any influence?” Thyrsis was shocked at the question--as he had been at the way Darrell took the whole thing. He knew that his friend had money enough to live comfortably; and why should any sort of criticism matter to a man who was economically free? “Brother,” he said, “you have forgotten your Dante.” “How do you mean?” asked the other. “_Segui il tuo corso e lascia dir le gente!_” quoted Thyrsis; and then he added, “You don’t seem to realize that these are newspapers, and nobody really credits them.” “Ah, but they do!” cried Darrell. “You don’t know what I have been through with! My oldest friends have cut me! Clergymen have refused to sit at table with me! The organization that I gave ten years of my life to founding has gone all to pieces. I have been utterly ruined--I have been wiped out, destroyed!” “But, my dear man,” Thyrsis argued, “you are setting out to teach a new doctrine, one that is abhorrent to people. And how can you expect to avoid being attacked? It seems to me that either you ought not to have done it, or else been prepared for some of this uproar.” “But because a man becomes a Socialist, are they to libel him in these foul ways?” “I don’t mean that. It’s not only that you are a Socialist, but that you have defied their marriage-laws.” “But I haven’t!” exclaimed Darrel. “What do you mean?” asked Thyrsis, perplexed. “I have defied no law--nor even any convention. I have done everything that the world requires.” Thyrsis stared at him, amazed. “Why, surely,” he gasped, “you and--and Mrs. Darrell--you are not _married?_” “Married!” exclaimed the other. “We were married here in New York, by a regularly-ordained clergyman!” Thyrsis could not find words to express his dismay. “I--I had no idea of that!” he gasped. “I thought--” “You see the lies!” cried the other. “Even _you_ had swallowed them!”