“These people are going from here to the town, to live a very humdrum, miserable, ground-down sort of life. There will be nothing elevating, nothing intellectual—nothing in the least refined about it. There will be a great deal of nonsense talked about refinement, the sort of thing you abhor, but no true refinement in itself.” “All the more reason then why I should stay to make up the deficit.” But a shadow crossed the face of Genius. “Will you _stay_, or will you _go?_” Plucritus had reached across the wooden seat, and as he whispered the words his hot breath blew upon the cheek of Genius like some unwholesome fever-blight in a pestilential marshland. “I will stay.” “Fool, fool that you are, and rightly mated with a fool. Stay then and become a kind of circus-clown, a kind of Punchinello with a hump—not meeting with applause like him though, but with jeers and scorn, the only thing you’re fit for.” And away he went, and the blood-red rays from the blood-red ring flashed round about him like a blood-red sulphur cloud. “Why is he so eager for my departure?” asked Genius, turning to Virginius, who stood there silently as ever. “He has his own reasons doubtless, but they are hard to fathom.” Virginius came and sat down beside Genius. “But you will stay. Duty demands that you should stay—and I can say, or beg, or ask no more.” “Yes, I will stay.” “Shall you care for the change, do you think?” “To me, as you know, it is immaterial.” Then Virginius smiled. “I apologise sincerely for my apparent disinterestedness, but like your human soldier I am bound to take the country as I find it. All my energies are bent on reconnoitring and organising; there is nothing left for ‘buts’ and ‘ifs.’” “It seems to me, Virginius, if you would but stoop to make yourself agreeable, and put on some little affability, you might be a ready match for Plucritus and the rest of them.” But before this the cold and stern expression had returned. “The trickery of bribery is beyond me,” he observed. “Beneath you, you mean,” said Genius, somewhat sorrowfully. “I can understand it.” Virginius now rose, and began pacing back and forwards upon the rock-crowned hill-top. The wind still cried in misery, and big drops of rain fell upon the earth. For some time silence prevailed, till at last Virginius broke it. “Genius, I am going to make a request; I am going to ask you to look at me.” “That is easily done. I have fulfilled it.” “No. I am going to ask you to look at me. When I am most silent, look at me most.” “That is precisely where the difficulty comes. Plucritus is so essentially interesting and fascinating that he attracts attention entirely to himself.” “You will see less of his fascination in the future. You have thwarted him and he dislikes you. You see you are not working as an immaterial power.”