Королі та капуста
Masters of arts
Hehaditallplannedoutandevenasketchmadeofhisidea.Theoldboydoesn’tdrawbadlyatall.But,yegoddessesofArt!listentothemonstrosityheexpectsmetopaint.Hewantshimselfinthecentreofthecanvas,ofcourse.HeistobepaintedasJupitersittingonOlympus,withthecloudsathisfeet.AtonesideofhimstandsGeorgeWashington,infullregimentals,withhishandonthepresident’sshoulder.Anangelwithoutstretchedwingshoversoverhead,andisplacingalaurelwreathonthepresident’shead,crowninghim—QueenoftheMay,Isuppose.Inthebackgroundistobecannon,moreangelsandsoldiers.Themanwhowouldpaintthatpicturewouldhavetohavethesoulofadog,andwoulddeservetogodownintooblivionwithoutevenatincantiedtohistailtosoundhismemory."
LittlebeadsofmoisturecreptoutalloverBillyKeogh’sbrow.Thestubofhisbluepencilhadnotfiguredoutacontingencylikethis.Themachineryofhisplanhadrunwithflatteringsmoothnessuntilnow.Hedraggedanotherchairuponthebalcony,andgotWhitebacktohisseat.Helithispipewithapparentcalm.
"Now,sonny,"hesaid,withgentlegrimness,"youandmewillhaveanArttoArttalk.You’vegotyourartandI’vegotmine.YoursistherealPierianstuffthatturnsupitsnoseatbock-beersignsandoleographsoftheOldMill.Mine’stheartofBusiness.Thiswasmyscheme,anditworkedoutliketwo-and-two.
