For Lovers Only
An Impetuous Painter and A Discerning Critic
Gabriel Gale was energetically painting a new sign for the Rising Sun Inn when his attention was engaged by a new arrival, Diana Westermaine.
The lady was tall and dark, and Gale looked at her steadily and rather longer than is strictly polite—but painters are absent-minded.
When he left off looking at her, she began looking at him. She saw genuine artistry in his dazzling rendition of the rising sun, and she recognized a real thread of thought running through his rambling conversation.
Then he stood on his head for a moment and with a sort of cartwheel alighted on his feet. “It’s a very good thing for a painter to see things upside down—as they really are. When angels hang head downwards, we know they come from above. It’s only those that come from below that always have their noses in the air.”
She laughed. But then a shadow came between them in the shape of the artist’s friend, Hurrel. Diana explained to herself that she had no reason to be angry, but she was exceedingly angry. The increase of the group from two to three had the painful effect of an intrusion. But the two men were inseparable companions.
Months later, Gale was able to tell her of the rash vow that had bound him to Hurrel who, as it happened, was a hopeless madman.
“I was the only person who could handle him,” Gale explained. “The poor fellow once did me a great service, and I could only repay it by looking after him.”
“Your vow was certainly rash enough,” she said. “It doesn’t seem right to be tied to a lunatic by a few words.”
“Don’t say that!” he cried.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because, I want you to make a rash vow. I want you to tie yourself to a lunatic with a few words.”
There was a silence, at the end of which she smiled suddenly and put her hand on his arm.
“I don’t think my vow will be so very rash—oh, for heavens sake!”
Gabriel Gale was standing on his head again.
From Chesterton’s The Poet and the Lunatics
For Lovers Only
An Impetuous Painter and A Discerning Critic
Gabriel Gale was energetically painting a new sign for the Rising Sun Inn when his attention was engaged by a new arrival, Diana Westermaine.
The lady was tall and dark, and Gale looked at her steadily and rather longer than is strictly polite—but painters are absent-minded.
When he left off looking at her, she began looking at him. She saw genuine artistry in his dazzling rendition of the rising sun, and she recognized a real thread of thought running through his rambling conversation.
Then he stood on his head for a moment and with a sort of cartwheel alighted on his feet. “It’s a very good thing for a painter to see things upside down—as they really are. When angels hang head downwards, we know they come from above. It’s only those that come from below that always have their noses in the air.”
She laughed. But then a shadow came between them in the shape of the artist’s friend, Hurrel. Diana explained to herself that she had no reason to be angry, but she was exceedingly angry. The increase of the group from two to three had the painful effect of an intrusion. But the two men were inseparable companions.
Months later, Gale was able to tell her of the rash vow that had bound him to Hurrel who, as it happened, was a hopeless madman.
“I was the only person who could handle him,” Gale explained. “The poor fellow once did me a great service, and I could only repay it by looking after him.”
“Your vow was certainly rash enough,” she said. “It doesn’t seem right to be tied to a lunatic by a few words.”
“Don’t say that!” he cried.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because, I want you to make a rash vow. I want you to tie yourself to a lunatic with a few words.”
There was a silence, at the end of which she smiled suddenly and put her hand on his arm.
“I don’t think my vow will be so very rash—oh, for heavens sake!”
Gabriel Gale was standing on his head again.
From Chesterton’s The Poet and the Lunatics
Solo per Innamorati
Un pittore impetuoso e una critica perspicace
Gabriel Gale stava dipingendo con energia una nuova insegna per la locanda del Sole Nascente quando la sua attenzione fu attratta da una nuova venuta, Diana Westermaine.
La dama era alta e bruna, e Gale la guardò fisso e piuttosto più a lungo di quanto sia strettamente educato—ma i pittori sono distratti.
Quando smise di guardarla, lei cominciò a guardare lui. Vide una genuina arte nella sua abbagliante resa del sole nascente, e riconobbe un vero filo di pensiero che scorreva nella sua sconclusionata conversazione.
Poi si mise a testa in giù per un momento e con una specie di ruota atterrò sui piedi. «È una cosa ottima per un pittore vedere le cose capovolte—come sono davvero. Quando gli angeli pendono a testa in giù, sappiamo che vengono dall’alto. Sono solo quelli che vengono dal basso ad avere sempre il naso per aria.»
Lei rise. Ma poi un’ombra si frappose tra loro nella forma dell’amico dell’artista, Hurrel. Diana si spiegò da sé che non aveva motivo d’essere in collera, ma era in collera oltremodo. L’accrescimento del gruppo da due a tre ebbe il penoso effetto di un’intrusione. Ma i due uomini erano compagni inseparabili.
Mesi dopo, Gale poté raccontarle dell’avventato voto che l’aveva legato a Hurrel il quale, per come stavano le cose, era un pazzo incurabile.
«Ero l’unica persona capace di gestirlo», spiegò Gale. «Quel pover’uomo una volta mi rese un gran servigio, e potei ripagarlo soltanto prendendomi cura di lui.»
«Il tuo voto fu di certo abbastanza avventato», disse lei. «Non pare giusto essere legati a un folle da poche parole.»
«Non dirlo!» esclamò lui.
«Perché no?» chiese lei.
«Perché voglio che tu faccia un voto avventato. Voglio che tu ti leghi a un folle con poche parole.»
Vi fu un silenzio, al termine del quale lei sorrise all’improvviso e gli posò la mano sul braccio.
«Non credo che il mio voto sarà poi così avventato—oh, per l’amor del cielo!»
Gabriel Gale stava di nuovo a testa in giù.
Da The Poet and the Lunatics di Chesterton