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I wanted so final and conclusive and obliterating, and ot drunk in a tavern, drunk enough to be nervy and nasty, and I went blundering home

I felt bold and defiant and very independent for having stayed away fro

He was painting furiously when I returned He was high on the scaffold, and I figured he was attending to the faces of his Greek philosophers, working the alcheh uncovered rather than applied

He wore a bedraggled gray tunic that hung down to his feet He didn't turn to look at me when I came in Every brazier in the house it seeht he wanted

The boys were frightened at the speed hich he covered the canvas

I soon realized, as I staggered into the studio, that he wasn't painting on his Greek Academy

He was painting a picture of me I knelt in this picture, a boy of our ti as if I had taken leave of the high-toned world, and seeathered angels, gentle-faced and glorious as they always appeared, only these had been graced with black wings

Black wings Great black feathery wings Hideous they seemed, the more I looked upon this canvas Hideous, and he had almost completed it The auburn-haired boy seeels appeared avid yet sad

But nothing therein was asthis, of his hand and brush whipping across the picture, realizing sky, clouds, broken pediht

The boys clung to one another, certain of his madness or his sorcery Which was it? Why did he so carelessly reveal himself to those whose minds had been at peace?

Why did he flaunt our secret, that he was no ed creatures he painted! Why had he the Lord lost his patience in such a manner as this?

Suddenly in a rage, he threw a pot of paint at the far corner of the rooured the wall He cursed and cried in a language none of us knew

He hurled the pots down, and the paint spilt in great shiny splashes fro like arrows

"Get out of here, go to your beds, I don't want to see you, innocents Go Go "

The apprentices ran froather to him the smaller boys All hurried out the door