In the presence of others, as I have mentioned, Wilde would put on an air of showing off in order to astonish, or amuse, or even exasperate people. He never listened to, and scarcely took any notice of an idea from the moment it was no longer purely his own. When he was no longer the only one to shine, he would shut himself up, and emerge again only when one found oneself alone with him once more. But as soon as we were alone again he would begin, 'Well, what have you been doing since yesterday?' Now, as at that time my life was passing uneventfully enough, the telling of what I had been doing was of no interest. So, to humour him, I began recounting some trifling incidents, and noticed while I was speaking that Wilde's face was growing gloomy. 'You really did that?' he said. 'Yes,' I answered. 'And you are speaking the truth?' 'Absolutely.' 'Then why repeat it? You must see that it is not of the slightest importance. You must understand that there are two worlds--the one exists and is never talked about; it is called the real world because there is no need to talk about it in order to see it. The other is the world of Art; one must talk about that, because otherwise it would not exist.' Then he went on:-- 'Once upon a time there was a man who was beloved in his village because he used to tell tales. Every morning he left the village, and when he returned in the evening all the labourers of the village who had been working all the day would crowd round him and say, "Come, now, tell us a tale. What have you seen to-day?" 'The man said, "I have seen in the forest a Faun playing on a flute and making a band of little wood-nymphs dance." '"Go on with your story; what did you see?" the men would say. '"When I reached the sea-shore, I saw three mermaids beside the waves, combing their green hair with golden combs." 'And the villagers loved him because he used to tell them tales. 'One morning he left his village as usual, and when he reached the sea-shore he saw three mermaids at the water's edge combing their green hair with golden combs. And as he passed on his way he saw, near a wood, a Faun playing a flute to a band of wood-nymphs. 'That evening when he returned to his village the people said to him as they did every evening, "Come, tell us a tale: what have you seen?" 'And the man answered, "I have seen nothing."' Wilde stopped for a moment to allow the effect of the story to sink into me, and then he continued, 'I do not like your lips; they are quite straight, like the lips of a man who has never told a lie. I want you to learn to lie so that your lips may become beautiful and curved like the lips of an antique mask.