And as I looked at
the thing this way and that, I knew that his eyes in their deep cellars
never left my face for a moment. "It's a god," he said by-and-by. Then I began to tell him about that monstrous arm; but he cut me very
short. "I say it's a god," he interrupted, looking at me as if he would have
eaten me. "Even you, child as you are, have seen the gods men have made
for themselves before this. Half-gods they've made, all good or all evil
(and then they've called them the Devil). This is _my_ god--the god of
good and of evil also." "Er--I see," I said, rather taken aback (but quite sure he was off his
head for all that). Then I looked at the arm again; a child could have
seen how wrong it was.... But suddenly, to my amazement, he took me by the shoulders and turned me
away. "That'll do," he said curtly. "I didn't ask you to come in here with a
view to learning anything from you. I wanted to see how it struck you. I
shall send for you again--and again--"

Then he began to jabber, half to himself. "Bah!" he muttered. "'Is that all?' they ask before a stupendous thing. Show them the ocean, the heavens, infinity, and they ask, 'Is that all?' If they saw their God face to face they'd ask it!... There's only one
Cause, that works now in good and now in evil, but show It to them and
they put their heads on one side and begin to appraise and patronise
It!... I tell you, what's seen at a glance flies away at a glance. Gods
come slowly over you, but presently, ah! they begin to grip you, and at
the end there's no fleeing from them! You'll tell me more about my statue
by-and-by!... What was that you said?" he demanded, facing swiftly round
on me. "That arm? Ah, yes; but we'll see what you say about that arm six
months from now! Yes, the arm.... Now be off!" he ordered me. "I'll send
for you again when I want you!" He thrust me out. "An asylum, Mr. Benlian," I thought as I crossed the yard, "is the place
for you!" You see, I didn't know him then, and that he wasn't to be
judged as an ordinary man is. Just you wait till you see....

And straight away, I found myself vowing that I'd have nothing more to do
with him. I found myself resolving that, as if I were making up my mind
not to smoke or drink--and (I don't know why) with a similar sense that I
was depriving myself of something. But, somehow, I forgot, and within a
month he'd been in several times to see me, and once or twice had fetched
me in to see his statue. In two months I was in an extraordinary state of mind about him. I was
familiar with him in a way, but at the same time I didn't know one scrap
more about him. Because I'm a fool (oh, yes, I know quite well, now, what
I am) you'll think I'm talking folly if I even begin to tell you what
sort of a man he was. I don't mean just his knowledge (though I think he
knew everything--sciences, languages, and all that) for it was far more
than that. Somehow, when he was there, he had me all restless and uneasy;
and when he wasn't there I was (there's only the one word for it)
jealous--as jealous as if he'd been a girl! Even yet I can't make it
out....

And he knew how unsettled he'd got me; and I'll tell you how I found that
out. Straight out one night, when he was sitting up in my place, he asked me:
"Do you like me, Pudgie?" (I forgot to say that I'd told him they used to
call me Pudgie at home, because I was little and fat; it was odd, the
number of things I told him that I wouldn't have told anybody else.) "Do you like me, Pudgie?" he said. As for my answer, I don't know how it spurted out. I was much more
surprised than he was, for I really didn't intend it. It was for all the
world as if somebody else was talking with my mouth. "_I loathe and adore you!_" it came; and then I looked round, awfully
startled to hear myself saying that. But he didn't look at me. He only nodded. "Yes. Of good and evil too--" he muttered to himself. And then all of a
sudden he got up and went out. I didn't sleep for ever so long after that, thinking how odd it was I
should have said that. Well (to get on), after that something I couldn't account for began to
come over me sometimes as I worked. It began to come over me, without any
warning, that he was thinking of me down there across the yard. I used to
_know_ (this must sound awfully silly to you) that he was down yonder,
thinking of me and doing something to me. And one night I was so sure
that it wasn't fancy that I jumped straight up from my work, and I'm not
quite sure what happened then, until I found myself in his studio, just
as if I'd walked there in my sleep. And he seemed to be waiting for me, for there was a chair by his own, in
front of the statue. "What is it, Benlian?" I burst out. "Ah!" he said.... "Well, it's about that arm, Pudgie; I want you to tell
me about the arm. Does it look so strange as it did?" "No," I said. "I thought it wouldn't," he observed. "But I haven't touched it,
Pudgie--"

So I stayed the evening there. But you must not think he was always doing that thing--whatever it
was--to me. On the other hand, I sometimes felt the oddest sort of
release (I don't know how else to put it) ... like when, on one of these
muggy, earthy-smelling days, when everything's melancholy, the wind
freshens up suddenly and you breathe again. And that (I'm trying to take
it in order, you see, so that it will be plain to you) brings me to the
time I found out that _he_ did that too, and knew when he was doing it. I'd gone into his place one night to have a look at his statue. It was
surprising what a lot I was finding out about that statue. It was still
all out of proportion (that is to say, I knew it must be--remembered I'd
thought so--though it didn't annoy me now quite so much. I suppose I'd
lost _my_ fresh eye by that time). Somehow, too, my own miniatures had
begun to look a bit kiddish; they made me impatient; and that's horrible,
to be discontented with things that once seemed jolly good to you. Well, he'd been looking at me in the hungriest sort of way, and I looking
at the statue, when all at once that feeling of release and lightness
came over me. The first I knew of it was that I found myself thinking of
some rather important letters my firm had written to me, wanting to know
when a job I was doing was going to be finished. I thought myself it was
time I got it finished; I thought I'd better set about it at once; and I
sat suddenly up in my chair, as if I'd just come out of a sleep. And,
looking at the statue, I saw it as it had seemed at first--all misshapen
and out of drawing. The very next moment, as I was rising, I sat down again as suddenly as if
somebody had pulled me back. Now a chap doesn't like to be changed about like that; so, without
looking at Benlian, I muttered a bit testily, "Don't, Benlian!" Then I heard him get up and knock his chair away. He was standing behind
me. "Pudgie," he said, in a moved sort of voice, "I'm no good to you. Get out
of this. Get out--"

"No, no, Benlian!" I pleaded.