changing to a friendship whose demands would have drained his small
resources. "Ninety-nine per cent of the Quarter dislikes Stefan Byrd," an
Englishman had said, "but one per cent adores him." Repeated to Byrd,
this utterance was accepted by him with much complacence, for, even more
than the average man, he prided himself upon his faults of character. His
adoration of Paris had not prevented him from criticizing its denizens;
the habits of mental withdrawal and reservation developed in his boyhood
did not desert him in the city of friendship, but he became more deeply
aware of the loneliness which they involved. He searched eagerly for the
few whose qualities of mind or person lifted them beyond reach of his
demon of disparagement, and he found them, especially among women.

To a minority of that sex he was unusually attractive, and he became a
lover of women, but as subjects for enthusiasm rather than desire. In
passion he was curious but capricious, seldom rapidly roused, nor long
held. In his relations with women emotion came second to mental
stimulation, so that he never sought one whose mere sex was her main
attraction. This saved him from much--he was experienced, but not
degraded. Of love, however, in the fused sense of body, mind, and spirit,
he knew nothing. Perhaps his work claimed too much from him; at any rate
he was too egotistical, too critical and self-sufficient to give easily.
Whether he had received such love he did not ask himself--it is probable
that he had, without knowing it, or understanding that he had not himself
given full measure in return. The heart of France is practical; with all
her ardor Paris had given Byrd desire and friendship, but not romance.

In his last year, with only a few francs of his inheritance remaining,
Stefan had three pictures in the Beaux Arts. One of these was sold, but
the other two importuned vainly from their hanging places. Enormous
numbers of pictures had been exhibited that year. Every gallery, public