The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1909-08-18
AN IDOL or Stone,

OF MS Galatea. W nero Tic man 1nOmp-
son rendered dOgged devotion to Slbyl
Thuroe the artist I.orpizo offered up
an almost fanatical worship to the idol
he had fashioned by the cunning of his
hands. The idol of marble was set up
in Lorenzo Thompsons studio. and nj
most jealousy he issued invitations for
private view before its dispatch to
the academy.
OF one thing Lorenzo was feverishly
determined, upon one point Thompson
was sternly set-Sibyl must pledge her
word to come into his life when the
idol passed out from it.
The small Chelsea studio was
thronged with an unusually cnthuSi-
astic gathering.
The idol looked drcamily down upon
them all, upon the man who had done
everything but breathe the breath of
| life upon the Girl whose image it bore
and who, living and moving, yet rivalcd
it in coldneSS and lack of feeling: upon
the polite congratulatory crowd. upon
the painful little scene enacted at its
very feet.
For there. close to his handiwork.
when twilight had fallen and the room
was practically empty, Lorenzo Thomp-
son laid the heart God had given him
and the fame Sihyl had helped him to
win as offerings meet for the girls
acceptance.
But she smiled. frowncd and held up
her hand TO silence him. Then. with Il
petulant movement, she turned away.
Lorenzo caught her hand and with
fierce persistence forced her to face
him. his long pentup love carrying
away all barriers of reserve. Whether
for good or evil. for veal or woe, he
must speak now and be answered.
Sibyl pouted becomingly and found
the interview tiresome.
You We're like Il brother to me-" she
assured him artlessly. Did not often
tell you so? l never cared for you, ex-
cept, of course, with an entirely sis
terly affection, but Mr.. Baxter is in
candles you know. Trade is every
thing nowadays, is it not? And he says
he will give you your own price for
the marble. We are to be married be-
fore the end of the summer"
said Thompson smoothly as he stood
away from her, with low bow. to let
a stout dowager pass and inspect his
work. My thanks to Mr.. Baxter, but
you-she is not for sale"
The familiar studio became very
hell to LorcnZo's maddened fancy as
he battled with his tempter and looked
with burning eyes upon his idol-the
idol that they would wish to buy from
him with their accursed gold.
Thompson courteously babe his
friends goodby, standing on the thresh-
old of his studio and holding aside the
quaint old tapestry hangings.
He closed the door, dropped the cur
tains into their place and was at last
alone-alone but for the idol who
looked down upon him with unfathom-
able eyes.
He crossed the room and stood star
ing down from the window into the
dreary Chelsea street.
Lorenzo saw nothing of what Thomp-
son saw. There was no studio to shut
him in from the outer world, no Lon
don to hem him about by her black
river and miles of busy thOroughfares.
He was watching girl who leaned
in studied attitude of grace against
an old sea wall, her gray eyes gazing
far away to where the dim sky line
came softly down in mist to meet the
sea. He thrilled at the tender encour-
agement of her voice, made doubly
musical by the rhythmical lap-lap of
the bay waves.
This present vision was all Lorenzo
believed in. 1t at least was real. All
the rest was some trickery Of his over
wrought brain.
Thompson turned back into the room
with quick sigh, realizing that the
past with all its sweetness was dead.
And then at last Lorenzo awakened.
With harsh theatrical laugh lie
stopped and picked up his chisel and
mallet from where. with bohemian
carelessness, he had left them ut his
IDOLS feet. He looked up into the
eyes that could not see or pity, The
eyes that only spoke to him now OF q
heart that could not feel
His idol! The very personifcation of
his ideal! His angel who had existed
solely in his Imagination.
The lovely, graceful figure that was
to win him name, fame and fortune!
The beloved creation of his hand,
brain and heart Of his very life's love.
It was Lorenzo who vowed, with an
evil little oath, that he would not pan
der to Il selfish woman'S heartleSs
vanity IOranZO'S ruthless hand that
savagely demolished his idol of art and
love, Lorenzo's unbridled passion that
swept aside all chance Of imme-
date fame for the base, momentary de-
light of wholly petty revenge
Chisel and mallet! \ strong arm
with temporary madness to aid it, and
Lorenzo mad laid his own heart and
Sibyls pride in the dust.
Thompson flung away the tools and
lynl NrrtfI 4, .l,,lI i