CHAPTER III
[ Scene-The Studio.]
"Oh, John, friend of my boyhood, I am the unhappiest of men."
"You're a simpleton!"
"I have nothing left to love but my poor statue of America--and see, evenshe has no sympathy for me in her cold marble countenance--so beautifuland so heartless!"
"You're a dummy!"
"Oh, John!"
"Oh, fudge! Didn't you say you had six months to raise the money in?"
"Don't deride my agony, John. If I had six centuries what good would itdo? How could it help a poor wretch without name, capital, or friends?"
"Idiot! Coward! Baby! Six months to raise the money in--and five willdo!"
"Are you insane?"
"Six months--an abundance. Leave it to me. I'll raise it."
"What do you mean, John? How on earth can you raise such a monstrous sumfor me?"
"Will you let that be my business, and not meddle? Will you leave thething in my hands? Will you swear to submit to whatever I do? Will youpledge me to find no fault with my actions?"
"I am dizzy--bewildered--but I swear."
John took up a hammer and deliberately smashed the nose of America! Hemade another pass and two of her fingers fell to the floor--another, andpart of an ear came away--another, and a row of toes was mangled anddismembered--another, and the left leg, from the knee down, lay afragmentary ruin!
John put on his hat and departed.
George gazed speechless upon the battered and grotesque nightmare beforehim for the space of thirty seconds, and then wilted to the floor andwent into convulsions.
John returned presently with a carriage, got the broken-hearted artistand the broken-legged statue aboard, and drove off, whistling low andtranquilly.
He left the artist at his lodgings, and drove off and disappeared downthe Via Quirinalis with the statue.