Both he and Logan were relieved when Mitchell, who had interrupted them with inappropriate remarks, turned aside at Vauxhall and vanished into London. "So much for Mitchell," said Logan. "You and I need sterner stuff. You and I are sprung from those among whom life is lived bravely and bitterly, and we have no use for its parasites. You and I will only emerge from the bitterness on condition that we can make of life a spiritual thing, for we are of those who seek authority. Life has none to offer us now, for all the forms of life are broken. Neither above us nor below is there authority, neither in heaven nor in hell. We must seek authority within ourselves, in the marriage of heaven and hell, in the consummation of good and evil, the two poles of our nature. It is for us, the artists, to bring them together, to liberate good and evil in ourselves, that they may rush to the consummation. We are the priests and the prophets, and we must in no wise be false to our vision." Mendel could not fit all this in with his mood and his delicious dreams, and when it brought him back to his sober senses, he could not see what it had to do with painting. However, Logan put things right by saying:-- "You are a poet. You are like Heine. I can see you with your little Josepha the pale, the executioner's daughter. God rot my soul! It is years since I had such inspiration as you have given me. I think there must be Jewish blood in me, for I can certainly understand you through and through, and you have waked something in me that has always been asleep. Oh! we shall paint bonny pictures--bonny, bonny pictures." "You must come to see me every day," said Mendel, "and every night we will go out together, and I must introduce you to my mother, for she too has good words." Logan smacked his lips as they entered the grimy streets near Spitalfields. "Pah!" he said; "that's life, that is, good dirty life. I was littered in a farm-yard myself and I like a good smell. . . . Can you put me up to-night? I don't mind sleeping on the floor." "You can have my bed," said Mendel, "and I will sleep downstairs on my brother's sofa. Please--please. Do sleep in my bed." Logan accepted the offer and asked Mendel to stay with him while he undressed. He was unpleasantly fat, but strong and well-built. He stayed for a long time in front of the mirror. "See that bulge on the side of my head?" he said as he turned. Mendel looked, and sure enough his head had a curious bulge on its right side. "I had rickets when I was young," said Logan, "and my skull must have got pushed over. I expect that's what makes me what I am--lop-sided. I need you to balance me." He got into bed, and Mendel, reluctant to leave him, sat at his feet and devoured him with his eyes. "Surely, surely, now," he thought, "all is perfect now. No more disturbances, no more Mitchells, no more Hettys, and I shall do only what I really wish to do."