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216 ARIADNE.the generosity of the man who loved her vainly;but itsmote him and made him feel humbled andashamed." No woman,Ithink, ever loved you as thiswoman does, whom you have left asIwould notleave aclog," saidMaryx,and somethingof his oldardent eloquence returned to him, and his voicerose and rang clearer as the courage in him consummatedthe self-sacrifice that hehad sethimself"for her sake. Have you ever thought what youhave clone? AVhenyouhavekiUedArtin anartist,you have done the cruellest murder that earthcanbehold. Other and weaker natures than hersmight forget, but she never.Her fame will beshort-lived as thatrose, for she seesbut your face,and the world will tire of that, but she wUl not.She can dream nomore. She can only remember.Do you know what that is to the artist ? —it is to be blind and to wear}' the world; theworld thathas nomore pity than you have! Youthink her consoledbecause her genius hasnot lefther: are you a poet and yet do not know thatgenius is only apower to suffer more and to rememberlonger ? — nothingelse. Yousay toyour-