none. He is dull. You must realize it. But since he has known me, has
felt my influence, has been subject to my volition, my sorcery, you may
call it,--" his laugh was disagreeably conscious,--"he has developed the
shadow of a great man. He will seem a great composer. I shall make him
think he is one. I shall make the world believe it, also. It is my
fashion of squaring a life I hate. But if I chose to withdraw--"

The road they entered was black and full of the buzzing shadows of hot
night, but she was oblivious to everything but his hallucinating
voice:--

"And if you withdraw?" Her mouth echoed phrases without the complicity
of her brain.

"If I do--ah, these cobweb spinners! Good-by to Richard Van Kuyp and
dreams of glory." This note of harsh triumph snapped his weaving words.

"I don't believe you or your boasts," remarked Alixe, in her most
conventionally amused manner. "You are trying to scare me, and with this
hypnotic joke about Richard you have only hypnotized yourself. I mean to
tell Mr. Van Kuyp every bit of our conversation. I'm not frightened by
your vampire tales. You critics are only shadows of composers."

"Yes, but we make ordinary composers believe they are great," he replied
acridly.

"I'll tell this to Richard."

"He won't believe you."