"That is a hard saying for your friends," said Klesmer, recovering the gentleness of tone with which he had begun the conversation. "I have given you pain. That was inevitable. I was bound to put the truth, the unvarnished truth, before you. I have not said--I will not say--you will do wrong to choose the hard, climbing path of an endeavoring artist. You have to compare its difficulties with those of any less hazardous--any more private course which opens itself to you. If you take that more courageous resolve I will ask leave to shake hands with you on the strength of our freemasonry, where we are all vowed to the service of art, and to serve her by helping every fellow-servant."
Gwendolen was silent, again looking at her hands. She felt herself very far away from taking the resolve that would enforce acceptance; and after waiting an instant or two, Klesmer went on with deepened seriousness.

"I have given you pain," said Klesmer gently. "But I was bound to put the unvarnished truth before you. I will not say you will do wrong to choose the hard, climbing path of an artist. If you take that courageous resolve I will ask leave to shake hands with you on the strength of our freemasonry, where we are all vowed to the service of art."
Gwendolen was silent, looking down. She felt herself very far from taking the resolve; and after a moment, Klesmer went on with deepened seriousness.
