Had Leander been in the
Imperial kitchen, or even with the Emperor of Russia, he would have been
decorated!'
'Where is he?' said Lord Eskdale.
'He is alone in the cook's room.'
'I will go and say a word to him.'
Alone, in the cook's room, gazing in listless vacancy on the fire,
that fire which, under his influence, had often achieved so many
master-works, was the great artist who was not appreciated. No longer
suffering under mortification, but overwhelmed by that exhaustion which
follows acute sensibility and the over-tension of the creative faculty,
he looked round as Lord Eskdale entered, and when he perceived who was
his visitor, he rose immediately, bowed very low, and then sighed.
'Prevost thinks we are not exactly appreciated here,' said Lord Eskdale.
Leander bowed again, and still sighed.
'Prevost does not understand the affair,' continued Lord Eskdale. 'Why
I wished you to come down here, Leander, was not to receive the applause
of my cousin and his guests, but to form their taste.'
Here was a great idea; exciting and ennobling. It threw quite a new
light upon the position of Leander. He started; his brow seemed to
clear. Leander, then, like other eminent men, had duties to perform as
well as rights to enjoy; he had a right to fame, but it was also his
duty to form and direct public taste.
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