"Oh! the old dragon has guarded the entrance. His treasure is out of
our reach. I have not waited for your wish or urging to attempt an
assault on the mystery."
"Mystery! then there is a mystery?"
"Yes," answered Porbus. "Frenhofer was the only pupil Mabuse was
willing to teach. He became the friend, saviour, father of that
unhappy man, and he sacrificed the greater part of his wealth to
satisfy the mad passions of his master. In return, Mabuse bequeathed
to him the secret of relief, the power of giving life to form,--that
flower of nature, our perpetual despair, which Mabuse had seized so
well that once, having sold and drunk the value of a flowered damask
which he should have worn at the entrance of Charles V., he made his
appearance in a paper garment painted to resemble damask. The splendor
of the stuff attracted the attention of the emperor, who, wishing to
compliment the old drunkard, laid a hand upon his shoulder and
discovered the deception. Frenhofer is a man carried away by the
passion of his art; he sees above and beyond what other painters see.
He has meditated deeply on color and the absolute truth of lines; but
by dint of much research, much thought, much study, he has come to
doubt the object for which he is searching. In his hours of despair he
fancies that drawing does not exist, and that lines can render nothing
but geometric figures. That, of course, is not true; because with a
black line which has no color we can represent the human form.
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