to the statue, with a smile half sardonic, half good-natured. "A
pretty thing--a devilish pretty thing," he said. "It 's as fresh as the
foam in the milk-pail. He can do it once, he can do it twice, he can do
it at a stretch half a dozen times. But--but--"

He was returning to his former refrain, but Rowland intercepted him.
"Oh, he will keep it up," he said, smiling, "I will answer for him."

Gloriani was not encouraging, but Roderick had listened smiling. He
was floating unperturbed on the tide of his deep self-confidence. Now,
suddenly, however, he turned with a flash of irritation in his eye, and
demanded in a ringing voice, "In a word, then, you prophesy that I am to
fail?"

Gloriani answered imperturbably, patting him kindly on the shoulder. "My
dear fellow, passion burns out, inspiration runs to seed. Some fine day
every artist finds himself sitting face to face with his lump of clay,
with his empty canvas, with his sheet of blank paper, waiting in vain
for the revelation to be made, for the Muse to descend. He must learn
to do without the Muse! When the fickle jade forgets the way to your
studio, don't waste any time in tearing your hair and meditating on
suicide. Come round and see me, and I will show you how to console
yourself."

"If I break down," said Roderick, passionately, "I shall stay down.
If the Muse deserts me, she shall at least have her infidelity on her
conscience."

"You have no business," Rowland said to Gloriani, "to talk lightly of
the Muse in this company. Mr. Singleton, too, has received pledges from
her which place her constancy beyond suspicion." And he pointed out on
the wall, near by, two small landscapes by the modest water-colorist.

The sculptor examined them with deference, and Singleton himself began
to laugh nervously; he was trembling with hope that the great
Gloriani would be pleased. "Yes, these are fresh too," Gloriani said;
"extraordinarily fresh! How old are you?"

"Twenty-six, sir," said Singleton.

"For twenty-six they are famously fresh. They must have taken you a long
time; you work slowly."

"Yes, unfortunately, I work very slowly. One of them took me six weeks,
the other two months."

"Upon my word! The Muse pays you long visits." And Gloriani turned
and looked, from head to foot, at so unlikely an object of her favors.
Singleton smiled and began to wipe his forehead very hard. "Oh, you!"
said the sculptor; "you 'll keep it up!"

A week after his dinner-p