"I am not rash enough to suppose that I
could do it. I merely observed that it seemed--to my inexperienced
eyes--an easy matter. A few strokes of yellow paint here, for sand, and
a few strokes of blue paint there, for sky. But I am not even an
amateur, and so my opinion goes for nothing."
"I admire your frankness," said Patching. "Now let me convince you
practically. Be good enough to stand near this window with me."
Marcus moved to the spot indicated by the artist.
"Here," said Patching, "you are at about the same distance from the
desert as the front row of spectators will be. Now look at it
critically."
Marcus shaded his eyes with his left hand, cocked his head over his
right shoulder, in the true critical style, and gazed on the scene.
"Do you see the harmony--the TONE, I may say--in the desert?" asked
Patching, after a short pause.
"I think I do," responded Marcus, willing to oblige the artist.
"And the spiritual, or INNER meaning of the sky?"
"Ye-yes. It is quite perceptible."
"These are the effects of severe simplicity. But you must understand
that a single mis-stroke of the brush would have spoiled all the harmony
in the desert, or reduced the sky to a mere inexpressive field of blue
vapor.
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