in itself。 You saw me seeing that young lady off。 Didn’t you think I did it beautifully？”“Beautifully；” I admitted。 “I envied you。 There was I—” “Yes； I can imagine。 There were you； shuffling from head to foot； staring blankly at your friend； trying to make conversation。 I know。 That’s how I used to be myself； before I studied； and went into the thing professionally。 I don’t say I’m perfect yet。 I’m still a martyr to platform fright。 A railway station is the most difficult of all places to act in； as you have discovered for yourself。”“But；” I said with resentment； “I wasn’t trying to act。 I really felt。”“so did I； my boy；” said Le Ros。 “You can’t act without feeling。 What’s…his…name； the Frenchman—Diderot； yes—said you could； but what did he know about it？ Didn’t you see those tears in my eyes when the train started？ I hadn’t forced them。 I tell you I was moved。 So were you； I dare say。 But you couldn’t have pumped up a tear to prove it。 You can’t express your feelings。 In other words； you can’t act。 At any rate；” he added kindly； “not in a railway station。” “Teach me！” I cried。 He looked thoughtfully at me。 “Well；” he said at length； “the seeing…off season is practically over。 Yes； I’ll give you a course。 I have a good many pupils on hand already； but yes；” he said； consulting an ornate notebook； “I could give you an hour on Tuesdays and Fridays。”
His terms； I confess； are rather high。 But I don’t grudge the investment。
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论青年与老年
＇英国＇弗兰西