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Pellerin had been right in saying that his first idea had survived, had borne the test of time; but he had given his hearer no hint of the extent to which it had been enlarged and modified, of the fresh implications it now unfolded.
And Bernald, in the confidence that his own work was open to this objection, had stoically locked it up. Yet if he had resigned his exasperated intelligence to the fact that Wade's book existed, and was already passing into the immortality of perpetual republication, he could not, after repeated trials, adjust himself to the author's talk about Pellerin.
Oh, with most of them, of course, it's just a craze, like the last new game or puzzle: they don't understand him in the least. Howland says that even now, twenty-five years after his death, and with his books in everybody's hands, there are not twenty people who really understand Pellerin; and Howland ought to know, if anybody does. He's what's their great word? interpreted him.
It will give Winterman a chance to get some notion of what Pellerin was: he'll get it much straighter from Howland than if he tried to plough through Pellerin's books. And then afterward as if accidentally I thought I might bring him and Howland together. If Howland could only see him and hear him talk, there's no knowing what might come of it.
At the close of Howland Wade's discourse, Bernald, charged with his prodigious secret, had felt the need to escape for an instant from the liberated rush of talk. The interest of watching Pellerin was so perilously great that the watcher felt it might, at any moment, betray him. He lingered in the crowded drawing-room long enough to see his friend enclosed in a mounting tide, above which Mrs.
She swayed closer to the young man, and he saw that she was making a graceful attempt to throw her explanatory net over his companion, who, evading Mrs. Bain's hospitable signal, had cautiously wedged himself into a seat between Bernald and the wall. "Did you hear what I was saying, Mr. Winterman? I was talking about you about you and Pellerin. I was explaining to Mr.
"Oh, an authentic engagement, I assure you: otherwise, to oblige old Bob I'd submit cheerfully to looking over his foundling's literature. But I'm pledged this week to the Pellerin Society of Kenosha: I had a hand in founding it, and for two years now they've been patiently waiting for a word from me the Fiat Lux, so to speak.
What the deuce was there for him to say?" "What indeed? I think I'll take him home," said Bernald gaily. He turned away to join the circle from which, a few minutes before, Pellerin's eyes had vainly and enigmatically signalled to him; but the circle had dispersed, and Pellerin himself was not in sight.
"Well, then, look through two or three treatises on numismatics, the 'Thesaurus Morellianus', or the 'Praestantiora Numismata', of Valliant, or Banduri, or Pembrock, or Pellerin. You may chance upon a scent." "Thank you, thank you, sir!" He saw me to the door. As I turned to go I noticed that his daughter was standing motionless still, with the face of an angry Diana.
She made way for him, hospitably, in a corner of the sofa to which she had sunk; and he echoed her vaguely: "You were impressed, then?" "I can't express to you how it affected me! As Alice said, it was a resurrection it was as if John Pellerin were actually here in the room with us!" Bernald turned on her with a half-audible gasp. "You felt that, dear Mrs. Bain?" "We all felt it every one of us!
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