hall be finished in as short a time as any other sculptor would
require, who could apply himself to it forthwith."

"You see my distress," said the widow; "you can make allowance for my
impatience. Be speedy, then, and above all, be lavish of magnificence.
Spare no expense; only let me have a masterpiece."

Several letters echoed these injunctions, during the few days
immediately following the interview. At the expiration of three months
the artist called again. He found the widow still in weeds, but a little
less pallid, and a little more coquettishly dressed in her mourning
garb. "Madam," said he, "I am entirely at your service."

"Ah! at last; this is fortunate," replied the widow, with a gracious
smile.

"I have made my design, but I still want one sitting for the likeness.
Will you permit me to go into your bedroom?"

"Into my bedroom? For what?"

"To look at the portrait again."

"Oh! yes; have the goodness to walk into the drawing-room; you will find
it there, now."

"Ah!"

"Yes; it hangs better there; it is better lighted in the drawing-room
than in my own room."

"Would you like, madam, to look at the design for the monument?"

"With pleasure. Oh! what a size! What profusion of decorations! Why, it
is a palace, sir, this tomb!"

"Did you not tell me, madam, that nothing could be too magnificent? I
have not considered the expense; and, by the way, here is a memorandum
of what the monument will cost you."

"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed the widow, after having cast an eye over the
total adding up. "Why, this is enormous!"

"You begged me to spare no expense."

"Yes, no doubt, I desire to do things properly, but not exactly to make
a fool of myself."

"This, at present, you see, is only a design; and there is time yet to
cut it down."

"Well, then, suppose we were to leave out the temple, and the columns,
and all the architectural part, and content ourselves with the statue?
It seems to me that this would be very appropriate."

"Certainly it would."

"So let it be, then--just the statue, alone."

Shortly after this second visit, the sculptor fell desperately ill. He
was compelled to give up work; but, on returning from a tour in Italy,
prescribed by his physician, he presented himself once more before the
widow, who was then in the tenth month of her mourning. He found, this
time, a few roses among the cypress, and some smiling colors playing
over half-shaded grounds. He brought with him a lit