'
You might as well try to rewrite Hamlet. It will be a waste of time."
"No, it won't," said Maisie, putting down the teacups with a clatter to
reassure herself. "And I mean to do it. Can't you see what a beautiful thing it
would make?"
"How in perdition can one do work when one hasn't had the proper training? Any
fool can get a notion. It needs training to drive the thing through,--training
and conviction; not rushing after the first fancy." Dick spoke between his
teeth.
"You don't understand," said Maisie. "I think I can do it."
Again the voice of the girl behind him--
"Baffled and beaten back, she works on still; Weary and sick of soul, she works
the more.
Sustained by her indomitable will, The hands shall fashion, and the brain shall
pore, And all her sorrow shall be turned to labour----
I fancy Maisie means to embody herself in the picture."
"Sitting on a throne of rejected pictures? No, I shan't, dear. The notion in
itself has fascinated me.--Of course you don't care for fancy heads, Dick. I
don't think you could do them. You like blood and bones."
"That's a direct challenge. If you can do a Melancolia that isn't merely a
sorrowful female head, I can do a better one; and I will, too.
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