Little by little I drifted into a curious intimacy with the
Grossenstecks. Their house by degrees became my refuge. I was
given my own suite of rooms, my own latch-key; I came and went
unremarked; and what I valued most of all was that my privacy was
respected, and no one thought to intrude upon me when I closed my
door. In time I managed to alter the whole house to my liking, and
spent their money like water in the process. Gorgeousness gave way
to taste; I won't be so fatuous as to say my taste; but mine was
in conjunction with the best decorators in New York. One was no
longer blinded by magnificence, but found rest and peace and
beauty. Teresa and I bought the pictures. She was a wonderfully
clever girl, full of latent appreciation and understanding which
until then had lain dormant in her breast. I quickened those
unsuspected fires, and, though I do not vaunt my own judgment as
anything extraordinary, it represented at least the conventional
standard and was founded on years of observation and training. We
let the old masters go as something too smudgy and recondite for
any but experts, learning our lesson over one Correggio which
nearly carried us into the courts, and bought modern American
instead, amongst them some fine examples of our best men. We had a
glorious time doing it, too, and showered the studios with golden
rain--in some where it was evidently enough needed.
There was something childlike in the Grossenstecks' confidence in
me; I mean the old people; for it was otherwise with Teresa, with
whom I often quarrelled over my artistic reforms, and who took any
conflict in taste to heart.
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