"
He kept silence for a moment, then he said:
"You know what I want."
"No," Valentine answered. "But I'll do anything. You know that."
"I want your music."
Valentine suddenly became unresponsive. He didn't speak at first, and
both Julian and the doctor glanced at him in some surprise.
"Oh, you want me to be David to your Saul," he said at length.
"Yes."
"Do, Val," said Julian. "I should like it too."
Valentine, who was sitting near the doctor, looked down thoughtfully on
the carpet.
"I'm not in the mood to-day," he said slowly.
"You are always in the mood enough to cheer and rest me," Levillier said.
He had driven all the way from Harley Street for his medicine, and it was
obvious that he meant to have it. But Valentine still hesitated, and a
certain slight confusion became noticeable in his manner. Moving the toe
of his right boot to and fro, following the pattern of the carpet, he
glanced sideways at the doctor, and an odd smile curved his lips.
"Doctor," he said, "d'you believe that talents can die in us while we
ourselves live?"
"That's a strange question."
"It's waiting an answer."
"Well, my answer is, No; not wholly, unless through the approach of old
age, or the development of madness.
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