"That is not fair," she said, "two of them have been allowed to speak,
and this one has just as much right to be heard as the others. What do
you say, Cornelia?"
I hoped that my wife would put herself on my side, and would say that we
had enough of this sort of thing; but female curiosity is an unknown
quantity, and she unhesitatingly replied that she would like to hear the
young man's story. I sat down in despair. It was useless to endeavour to
withstand this yearning for personal information,--one of the curses, I
may say, of our present civilization. The young man gave no time for
change of opinion, but immediately began. His voice was rich and rather
low, and his manner exceedingly pleasing and gentle.
"I wish to state in the first place," said he, "that I am a reporter
for the press. In the exercise of my vocation I have frequently found
myself in peculiar and unpleasant positions, but never before have I
been in a situation so embarrassing, so humiliating, as this. In the
course of my studies and experiences I have found that in literature and
journalism, as well as in art, one can make a true picture only of what
one has seen. Imagination is all very well, often grand and beautiful;
but imaginative authors show us their inner selves and not our outer
world; there is to-day a demand for the real, and it is a demand which
will be satisfied with nothing but the truth. I have determined, as far
as in me lies, to endeavour to supply this demand, and I have devoted
myself to the study of Realism.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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