"Oh, but I'm not a great artist, you know.

I am scarcely known at all." She looked at him with her great, blue eyes sincerely troubled.

"And must one be _known_--to be great ?" she asked.

"Might not an artist be great and still be _unknown_?
Or, might not one who was really very, very"-- again she seemed to search for a word and as she found it, smiled--"very _small_, be known all over the world?
The newspapers make some really bad people famous, sometimes, don't they?
No, no, you are joking.

You do not really think that being known to the world and greatness are the same." The man, studying her closely, saw that she was speaking her thoughts as openly as a child.