Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 160: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

502 ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. Peter unveiled the model confidently and stood back with an expectant smile. It was to be the same story, then: praise and sweet words that warm the blood and tilt back the head! His smile gradually faded and then changed to an expression of anx- iety, for the delight was gone from the face of Salviati. He seemed to hesitate, and he glanced once or twice toward Peter. “Speak, speak, Lionardo,” said Peter at last. “I am burning with trouble to see you so silent!” ““May I say the words that are in my heart?” “Yes, yes!” “Then if I were here alone, I should throw the veil over that model and sit down to weep!” Peter strove to smile—to speak. He had to moisten his lips before he could say a word. “What is wrong, Salviati? Is it the chin? Yes, I know that is not strong and sure, but I shall remedy that in the marble, never doubt.” “No, it is not the chin; the chin is very well.” “The poise of the head, then?” “No, that also is very well.” “Then in God’s name, what is wrong?” The little man threw out his hands in despair. : “Ts this not the goddess of love?” “Yes, yes, Venus.” “Then the goddess of love is a harlot!” “ Unsay that, Lionardo, for the model of this is a beautiful and. good woman.” “ Pietro—ah, that is it! She is too beau- tiful to be good!” “Come, you quarrel with words. Speak out your heart.” “Not to this thing which you call the Venus.” “* Salviati, you anger me. I say. the lady is good.” ‘“Who told you that?” ‘“ My heart, which beats when I see her, yes, when I think of her!” ‘““Peter, Venus should be loved by the whole world, but only one man could love this woman!” “Do not riddle with words!” “You grind your teeth, Peter. Alas, it is no easy thing for me to dispraise! I came here as ready to see beauty as a closed flower is to receive the warmth of the sun.” “ And now—” “T shall say no more. It is lovely as it stands. Thousands shall praise it and wonder at it.” “ But?” : “ But it shall die before the marble crum- bles. It shall not live in the minds of men longer than its original in the flesh!” Peter moved a hand across his forehead. ‘“ Why did you leave the face till the last? . That should have been the first to take form if Beatrice is truly the image that lies somewhere in the heart of the artist as the goddess of love. No, Peter, you have left it till the last. A single day’s work would make it complete, but you have left it only blocked out, as if you would fain leave it to your imaginings before the piti- less chisel has marked it with one likeness forever!” “I have indeed delayed the carving of that,” said Peter heavily, ‘‘ but only be- cause I fear that I can never reproduce the perfect beauty of her face!” “It is not that. You lie even to yourself, and those are the most deadly lies. They are written in a man’s heart like black ink on white paper. My friend, my dear Pie- tro, I find no fault with the features of her face, but with the soul that should brood behind them. There is no soul, but only a thing of smiles and flesh which reflects the sun like a mirror. Shall this be the god- dess of love—and from your hand? No, no, Peter. For the conception is right! Where got you that posture?” Peter searched through his mind. For the first time he remembered that the pos- ture was never one of Beatrice’s, but of some other woman he had seen. He forgot whom. ‘I do not know,” he answered. “ At least not from her,” said Salviati, ‘but I tell you this from my heart, Pietro, if you would have your statue live, go back to the Lady Beatrice and try again to find a soul under her smiles.” “ Salviati,” said Peter grimly, ‘‘ you have given me a thousand wounds. If you were oh comicbooks.comn