"What do you mean by all the rest?" "Oh, you know, you know!" I could say nothing for a minute, though I felt, as I held his hand and our eyes continued to meet, that my silence had all the air of admitting his charge and that nothing in the whole world of reality was perhaps at that moment so fabulous as our actual relation. He was in one of the angles, the one away from the house, very erect, as it struck me, and with both hands on the ledge. The mind is arrested and raised above desire and loathing. The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful.