"
There was a disgusted groan from the apple-barrel. Anthony, grown
accustomed to the dark, could see plainly the flash of Richard Caramel's
yellow eye and the look of resentment on his face as he cried:
"You're crazy! By your own statement I should have attained some
experience by trying."
"Trying what?" cried Maury fiercely. "Trying to pierce the darkness of
political idealism with some wild, despairing urge toward truth? Sitting
day after day supine in a rigid chair and infinitely removed from life
staring at the tip of a steeple through the trees, trying to separate,
definitely and for all time, the knowable from the unknowable? Trying to
take a piece of actuality and give it glamour from your own soul to make
for that inexpressible quality it possessed in life and lost in transit
to paper or canvas? Struggling in a laboratory through weary years for
one iota of relative truth in a mass of wheels or a test tube--"
"Have you?"
Maury paused, and in his answer, when it came, there was a measure of
weariness, a bitter overnote that lingered for a moment in those three
minds before it floated up and off like a bubble bound for the moon.
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