"_Cest la que je vous attends!_ I'm precisely engaged in trying what can be done in taking it the other way. It's my little personal experiment. Life consists of the personal experiments of each of us, and the point of an experiment is that it shall succeed. What we contribute is our treatment of the material, our rendering of the text, our style. A sense of the qualities of a style is so rare that many persons should doubtless be forgiven for not being able to read, or at all events to enjoy, us; but is that a reason for giving it up--for not being, in this other sphere, if one possibly can, an Addison, a Ruskin, a Renan? Ah we must write our best; it's the great thing we can do in the world, on the right side. One has one's form, _que diable_, and a mighty good thing that one has. I'm not afraid of putting all life into mine, and without unduly squeezing it. I'm not afraid of putting in honour and courage and charity--without spoiling them: on the contrary I shall only do them good. People may not read you at sight, may not like you, but there's a chance they'll come round; and the only way to court the chance is to keep it up--always to keep it up. That's what I do, my dear man--if you don't think I've perseverance. If some one's touched here and there, if you give a little impression of truth and charm, that's your reward; besides of course the pleasure for yourself." "Don't you think your style's a trifle affected?" Nick asked for further amusement. "That's always the charge against a personal manner: if you've any at all people think you've too much. Perhaps, perhaps--who can say? The lurking unexpressed is infinite, and affectation must have begun, long ago, with the first act of reflective expression--the substitution of the few placed articulate words for the cry or the thump or the hug. Of course one isn't perfect; but that's the delightful thing about art, that there's always more to learn and more to do; it grows bigger the more one uses it and meets more questions the more they come up. No doubt I'm rough still, but I'm in the right direction: I make it my business to testify for the fine." "Ah the fine--there it stands, over there!" said Nick Dormer. "I'm not so sure about yours--I don't know what I've got hold of. But Notre Dame _is_ truth; Notre Dame _is_ charm; on Notre Dame the distracted mind can rest. Come over with me and look at her!"