No cork has ever been drawn at my command!""The movement of drawing a cork calls into play a very pretty set of muscles,"said Roderick."I think I will make a figure in that position.""A Bacchus, realistically treated! My dear young friend, never trifle with your lofty mission.Spotless marble should represent virtue, not vice!"And Mr.Leavenworth placidly waved his hand, as if to exorcise the spirit of levity, while his glance journeyed with leisurely benignity to another object--a marble replica of the bust of Miss Light.
"An ideal head, I presume," he went on; "a fanciful representation of one of the pagan goddesses--a Diana, a Flora, a naiad or dryad?
I often regret that our American artists should not boldly cast off that extinct nomenclature.""She is neither a naiad nor a dryad," said Roderick, "and her name is as good as yours or mine.""You call her"--Mr.Leavenworth blandly inquired.
"Miss Light," Rowland interposed, in charity.
"Ah, our great American beauty! Not a pagan goddess--an American, Christian lady! Yes, I have had the pleasure of conversing with Miss Light.Her conversational powers are not remarkable, but her beauty is of a high order.
I observed her the other evening at a large party, where some of the proudest members of the European aristocracy were present--duchesses, princesses, countesses, and others distinguished by similar titles.But for beauty, grace, and elegance my fair countrywoman left them all nowhere.
What women can compare with a truly refined American lady?
The duchesses the other night had no attractions for my eyes;they looked coarse and sensual! It seemed to me that the tyranny of class distinctions must indeed be terrible when such countenances could inspire admiration.You see more beautiful girls in an hour on Broadway than in the whole tour of Europe.
Miss Light, now, on Broadway, would excite no particular remark.""She has never been there!" cried Roderick, triumphantly.
"I 'm afraid she never will be there.I suppose you have heard the news about her.""What news?" Roderick had stood with his back turned, fiercely poking at his lazzarone; but at Mr.Leavenworth's last words he faced quickly about.
"It 's the news of the hour, I believe.Miss Light is admired by the highest people here.They tacitly recognize her superiority.
She has had offers of marriage from various great lords.
I was extremely happy to learn this circumstance, and to know that they all had been left sighing.She has not been dazzled by their titles and their gilded coronets.
She has judged them simply as men, and found them wanting.
One of them, however, a young Neapolitan prince, I believe, has after a long probation succeeded in ****** himself acceptable.
Miss Light has at last said yes, and the engagement has just been announced.I am not generally a retailer of gossip of this description, but the fact was alluded to an hour ago by a lady with whom I was conversing, and here, in Europe, these conversational trifles usurp the lion's share of one's attention.I therefore retained the circumstance.
Yes, I regret that Miss Light should marry one of these used-up foreigners.Americans should stand by each other.
If she wanted a brilliant match we could have fixed it for her.
If she wanted a fine fellow--a fine, sharp, enterprising modern man--I would have undertaken to find him for her without going out of the city of New York.And if she wanted a big fortune, I would have found her twenty that she would have had hard work to spend: money down--not tied up in fever-stricken lands and worm-eaten villas! What is the name of the young man?
Prince Castaway, or some such thing!"
It was well for Mr.Leavenworth that he was a voluminous and imperturbable talker; for the current of his eloquence floated him past the short, sharp, startled cry with which Roderick greeted his "conversational trifle." The young man stood looking at him with parted lips and an excited eye.
"The position of woman," Mr.Leavenworth placidly resumed, "is certainly a very degraded one in these countries.
I doubt whether a European princess can command the respect which in our country is exhibited toward the obscurest females.
The civilization of a country should be measured by the deference shown to the weaker ***.Judged by that standard, where are they, over here?"Though Mr.Leavenworth had not observed Roderick's emotion, it was not lost upon Rowland, who was ****** certain uncomfortable reflections upon it.
He saw that it had instantly become one with the acute irritation produced by the poor gentleman's oppressive personality, and that an explosion of some sort was imminent.Mr.Leavenworth, with calm unconsciousness, proceeded to fire the mine.
"And now for our Culture!" he said in the same sonorous tones, demanding with a gesture the unveiling of the figure, which stood somewhat apart, muffled in a great sheet.
Roderick stood looking at him for a moment with concentrated rancor, and then strode to the statue and twitched off the cover.
Mr.Leavenworth settled himself into his chair with an air of flattered proprietorship, and scanned the unfinished image.
"I can conscientiously express myself as gratified with the general conception," he said."The figure has considerable majesty, and the countenance wears a fine, open expression.
The forehead, however, strikes me as not sufficiently intellectual.
In a statue of Culture, you know, that should be the great point.
The eye should instinctively seek the forehead.Could n't you heighten it up a little?"Roderick, for all answer, tossed the sheet back over the statue.
"Oblige me, sir," he said, "oblige me! Never mention that thing again.""Never mention it? Why my dear sir"--
"Never mention it.It 's an abomination!""An abomination! My Culture!"
"Yours indeed!" cried Roderick."It 's none of mine.
I disown it."
"Disown it, if you please," said Mr.Leavenworth sternly, "but finish it first!""I 'd rather smash it!" cried Roderick.
