VANCE (soliloquizing).--"And yet Her Serene Sublimity-ship, Lady Selina
Vipont, says to me with divine compassion, 'Not in the way of your
delightful art to know such men as Mr. Darrell!' Oh, as if I did not see
through it, too, when she said, /a propos/ of my jean cap and velveteen
jacket, 'What matters how you dress? Every one knows who you are!'
Would she have said that to the earl of Dunder, or even to Sir Gregory
Stollhead? No. I am the painter Frank Vance,--nothing more nor less;
and if I stood on my head in a check shirt and a sky-coloured apron, Lady
Selina Vipont would kindly murmur, 'Only Frank Vance the painter: what
does it signify?' Aha!--and they think to put me to use, puppets and lay
figures! it is I who put them to use! Hark ye, Lionel, you are nearer
akin to these fine folks than I knew of. Promise me one thing: you may
become of their set, by right of your famous Mr. Darrell; if ever you
hear an artist, musician, scribbler, no matter what, ridiculed as a tuft-
hunter,--seeking the great, and so forth,--before you join in the laugh,
ask some great man's son, with a pedigree that dates from the Ark, 'Are
you not a toad-eater too? Do you want political influence; do you stand
contested elections; do you curry and fawn upon greasy Sam the butcher
and grimy Tom the blacksmith for a vote? Why? useful to your career,
necessary to your ambition? Aha! is it meaner to curry and fawn upon
white-handed women and elegant coxcombs? Tut, tut! useful to a career,
necessary to ambition!'" Vance paused, out of breath. The spoiled
darling of the circles,--he, to talk such republican rubbish! Certainly
he must have taken his two guineas' worth out of those light wines.
Nothing so treacherous! they inflame the brain like fire, while melting
on the palate like ice. All inhabitants of lightwine countries are
quarrelsome and democratic.

LIONEL (astounded).--"No one, I am sure, could have meant to call you a
tuft-hunter; of course, every one knows that a great painter--"