The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1891-01-28


that she had seen hewed bit by bit from
the cold white marble seemed all at once
to have life, to be real, and more, to be
her own.
She laughed, and she cried.
81 feel as if some one had shut me up
in that stone, ages and ages ago, she
said, land that only now you had come
to take me out"
And what do you suppose you would
have done had never Gamer" Clement
asked, chiseling away at the Cupid lips of
his statue
always been dead, suppose" she
said with sigh, looking up at him with
roguish smile.
The look was too much for Clement
The marble lips could not hold him
when the red ones were there, just wait
ing to be kissed nor could he work more
that day-he was too happy.
But for some unacccuntable reason
society had got it into its head that
young Scott, ''the distinguished Amer
lean sculptor" as he was commonly
called, had left society and gone into So
clusion to work. Strange stories got
about. he was finishing statue he
had been at work upon for years, it was
said, and Immediately artists began to
interest themselves concerning his where
abouts. The newspapers, working in
the interest of the public, had made 1t
their particular business to look into the
matter. In part they were successful.
They found that he was at Hull, and,
because he would not be seen, they in
ferred that he must be working upon
some masterpiece.
That was the story that went abroad.
Artists and newspaper men by the
score came to Hull, all anxious to catch
first glimpse of the new work of art.
Scott had finished little more than the
head and bust of the statue of his Venus
of Milo; one of the broken arms to be
was still in the crude marble, and he
absolutely refused to have his work
viewed and criticized by this curious
crowd-at least before he had finished.
1t was perhaps week after this sort
of curiosity concerning Scott's new work
had set in, that Mildred and he, in the
studio together, were running through a
batch of letters. They were, as usual,
chiefly requests for interviews, or the
like. Among them was note from the
president of the Society of American
Sculptors. He wished Mr.. Scott to give
him and a few of his brothers in art the
pleasure of beholding what he felt sure
was to be the greatest of American
sculpture masterpieces.
Scott laughed. What perfect nom
sensep he said, as he read the letter
aloud. 1t was the same old hattery, and
all caused, he thought, by his medal.
He got up and walked across the studio
to where his work stood, and pulling off
the sheet that covered it called to Mil
| bred in dramatic voice:
''Looki the masterpiece of American
sculpturel" and he pointed his finger at
the half finished statue
They both laughed, and then Mildred
added more seriously, But, Clement, it
is ine"
81 am glad you like it." he said. 81
don't care what they think; and, besides,
what do those cads, who haven't seen
any of my work, know of my work?
Their praises annoy me. doubt If some
of them could tell plaster cast from a
marble cutting They are ignoramuses
in regard to art-the most of them" and
Scott threw the sheet back over the
statue, Disguised.
''They can't tell sculpturing when they
see it" he went on. "Why, if / were to
fix you up as the statue l doubt even if
| they would discover the deception
And, by Jove, Mildred, I'll do It'll I'll fix
box to look like marble, stand you in
it, drape your shoulder and whiten your
hair and face. With the use of some
plaster of Paris we can make your breast
seem to come directly out from the
rough stone; and your arm-why, Mil
bred, we can take that off. You will be
the real Venus of Milo, and I'll wager
they won't see the deception. Are you
willing, Mildred2'' he asked, all excite
ment now.
"Do you think they would be de-
ceivedf" Mildred asked. "What joke
| If they were," she went on, catching the
spirit of his plans. "What joker
| And SO it was decided Scott sent the
president of the Society of American
ter. He stated the day and named the
hour he should be pleased to receive his
artist friends, and though he assured
them his statue was quite incomplete,
still he said they should have o peep at
it. Mildred and himself at once began
preparations for the exhibit, and long
before the appointed day came they were
in high glee over the prospects, for their
private rehearsals had proven more than
successful.
And then the trial and the end of it all
came. 1t was beautiful day about the
| first of June. The studio had been ar
ranged with especial care for the occa-
sion. There were bits Of the sculptor's
art about the room, some profiles in
white against black plush upon the
walls, and draperies hung in profusion.
At Q o'clock the invited guests, artists
and journalists, about a dozen in num-
Der, arrived at the little summer home
of the SCOTS on the hill. Clement re-
ceived them and entertained them over
cigars with the talk of men and things
which usually interest such people. For
full hour they sat this way. He could
see plainly that his guests were becom-
ing impatient for something more ex-
citing than talk, but stiff he kept them
in the studio.
Some one called to see Scott. He ex-
cused himself and was gone some min
utes. When he came back he was pro-
fuse in his apologies for bis long alb
sence, but he made up for the absence
by unlocking the door which, as he said,
| led into his work room.
1t was large room, totally unfur-
nished, into which he led them. The
sunlight streamed in through open win
dows and fell in streaks across tas
stained floor. Near the center of the
room stood the half finished statue, upon
which his work had really been done.
There were tools and chips of marble
lying about the stone as though work
had just been suspended. Extending
across the extreme end of Che room hung