terity what the art of the time when
it was executed, was capable of."

"That is a matter of course--but you are forgetting your own share."

"My own fame you mean?"

"Certainly."

"I work for Papias and serve my art, and that is enough; meanwhile Fame
does not trouble herself about me, nor do I trouble myself about her."

"Still, you will put your name on my bust?"

"Why not?"

"You are as prudent as Cicero."

"Cicero?"

"Perhaps you would hardly know old Tullius' wise remark that the
philosophers who wrote of the vanity of writers put their names to their
books all the same."

"Oh! I have no contempt for laurels, but I will not run after a thing
which could have no value for me, unless it came unsought, and because
it was my due."

"Well and good; but your first condition could only be fulfilled in its
widest sense if you could succeed in making yourself acquainted with my
thoughts and feelings, with the whole of my inmost mind."

"I see you and talk to you," replied Pollux. Claudia laughed aloud, and
said:

"If instead of two sittings of two hours you were to talk to her for
twice as many years you would always find something new in her. Not a
week passes in which Rome does not find in her something to talk about.
That restless brain is never quiet, but her heart is as good as gold,
and always and everywhere the same."

"And did you suppose that that was new to me?" asked Pollux. "I can see
the restless spirit of my model in her brow and in her mouth, and her
nature is revealed in her eyes."

"And in my snub-nose?" asked Balbilla.

"It bears witness to your wonderful and whimsical notions, which
astonish Rome so much."

"Perhaps you are one more that works for the hammer of the slaves,"
laughed Balbilla.

"And even if it were so," said Pollux, "I should always retain the
memory of this delightful hour." Pontius the architect here interrupted
the sculptor, begging Balbilla to excuse him for disturbing the sitting;
Pollux must immediately attend to some business of importance, but in
ten minutes he would return to his work. No sooner were the two ladies
alone, than Balbilla rose and looked inquisitively round and about the
sculptor's enclosed work-room; but her companion said:

"A very polite young man, this Pollux, but rather too much at his ease,
and too enthusiastic."

"An artist," replied Balbilla, and she proceeded to turn over every
picture and tablet with the sculptor's studies in dra