Library of the Worlds Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 3 | Page 5

fête so long
beforehand, and would like to have had it take place in the very next
hour, so that something else might be taken up at once. The long delay
tried her patience. She almost envied those beings to whom the
preparation for pleasure affords the greatest part of the enjoyment.
Work alone calmed her unrest. She had something to do, and this
prevented the thoughts of the festival from engaging her mind during
the day. It was only in the evening that she would recompense herself
for the day's work, by giving full swing to her fancy.
The statue of Victory was still in the atelier and was almost finished.
High ladders were placed beside it. The artist was still chiseling at the
figure, and would now and then hurry down to observe the general
effect, and then hastily mount the ladder again in order to add a touch
here or there. Irma scarcely ventured to look up at this effigy of herself
in Grecian costume--transformed and yet herself. The idea of being
thus translated into the purest of art's forms filled her with a tremor,
half joy, half fear.
It was on a winter afternoon. Irma was working assiduously at a copy
of a bust of Theseus, for it was growing dark. Near her stood her
preceptor's marble bust of Doctor Gunther. All was silent; not a sound
was heard save now and then the picking or scratching of the chisel.
At that moment the master descended the ladder, and drawing a deep

breath, said:--
"There--that will do. One can never finish. I shall not put another stroke
to it. I am afraid that retouching would only injure it. It is done."
In the master's words and manner, struggling effort and calm content
seemed mingled. He laid the chisel aside. Irma looked at him earnestly
and said:--
"You are a happy man; but I can imagine that you are still unsatisfied. I
don't believe that even Raphael or Michael Angelo was ever satisfied
with the work he had completed. The remnant of dissatisfaction which
an artist feels at the completion of a work is the germ of a new
creation."
The master nodded his approval of her words. His eyes expressed his
thanks. He went to the water-tap and washed his hands. Then he placed
himself near Irma and looked at her, while telling her that in every
work an artist parts with a portion of his life; that the figure will never
again inspire the same feelings that it did while in the workshop.
Viewed from afar, and serving as an ornament, no regard would be had
to the care bestowed upon details. But the artist's great satisfaction in
his work is in having pleased himself; and yet no one can accurately
determine how, or to what extent, a conscientious working up of details
will influence the general effect.
While the master was speaking, the King was announced. Irma
hurriedly spread a damp cloth over her clay model.
The King entered. He was unattended, and begged Irma not to allow
herself to be disturbed in her work. Without looking up, she went on
with her modeling. The King was earnest in his praise of the master's
work.
"The grandeur that dwells in this figure will show posterity what our
days have beheld. I am proud of such contemporaries."
Irma felt that the words applied to her as well. Her heart throbbed. The

plaster which stood before her suddenly seemed to gaze at her with a
strange expression.
"I should like to compare the finished work with the first models," said
the king to the artist.
"I regret that the experimental models are in my small atelier. Does
your Majesty wish me to have them brought here?"
"If you will be good enough to do so."
The master left. The King and Irma were alone. With rapid steps the
King mounted the ladder, and exclaimed in a tremulous voice:--
"I ascend into heaven--I ascend to you. Irma, I kiss you, I kiss your
image, and may this kiss forever rest upon those lips, enduring beyond
all time. I kiss thee with the kiss of eternity." He stood aloft and kissed
the lips of the statue. Irma could not help looking up, and just at that
moment a slanting sunbeam fell on the King and on the face of the
marble figure, making it glow as if with life.
Irma felt as if wrapped in a fiery cloud, bearing her away into eternity.
The King descended and placed himself beside her. His breathing was
short and quick. She did not dare to look up; she stood as silent and as
immovable as a statue. Then the King embraced her--and living lips
kissed each other.
Translation of S.A. Stern.
THE NEW