the handkerchief at intervals in the pauses." Without waiting for
Selene's answer the sculptor hastened into his nook and returned first
with one of the lamps he worked by in each hand, and some small tools in
his mouth, and then fetched his wax model which he placed on the outer
side of the table, behind which the steward was sleeping. The tapers
were put out, the lamps pushed aside, and raised or lowered, and when at
last a tolerably suitable light was procured Pollux threw himself on a
stool, straddled his legs, craned his head forward as far as his neck
would allow, looking, with his hooked nose, like a vulture that strives
to descry his distant prey-cast his eyes down, raised them again to take
in something fresh, and after a long gaze looked down again while his
fingers and nails moved over the surface of the wax-figure, sinking into
the plastic material, applying new pieces to apparently complete
portions, removing others with a decided nip and rounding them off with
bewildering rapidity to use them for a fresh purpose.

He seemed to be seized with cramp in his hands, but still under his
knotted brow his eye shone earnest, resolute and calm, and yet full of
profound and speechless inspiration. Selene had said not a word that
permitted his using her as a model; but, as if his enthusiasm was
infectious, she remained motionless, and when, as he worked, his gaze
met hers she could detect the stern earnestness which at this moment
possessed her eager companion.

Neither of them opened their lips for some time. At last he stood back
from his work, stooping low to look first at Selene and then at his
statuette with keen examination from head to foot; and then, drawing a
deep breath, and rubbing the wax over with his finger, he said:

"There, that is how it must go! Now I will wet your father's