Then, like a tigress, rapidly she set to work with mallet and chisel, and while Paul stood motionless, scarcely daring to breathe, the idea that filled her brain and soul began to take living shape from the block of stone. At some length, however, she dropped her tools. They fell upon the floor with a dull thud. She crosses over to the model; then irresolutely retraced her steps, and threw herself upon a divan or sofa, as in a dream. There she lies motionless, save for a heaving breast.
Paul thinks she sleeps, and leaving his station, goes to the couch whereon she lies, and gazes upon her with strange emotion. She still seems unconscious of his presence.
"Had I Svengali's power, I'd mould her to my will." Paul clenches his hand together, gazes passionately at the reclining figure, and slowly moves back to his place. She arose.
"Paul, come near me," she said, with a voice as seductive as that of a luring siren, "and sit upon this low stool."
This request was made by her following a flashing, unaccountable mental freak, that filled Paul with pleased astonishment!
"I am your willing slave," he said, as he did her bidding.
"Do you love any woman?" said Ouida.
"I dare not answer," said the model.
"Dare not answer? Have I not asked you? What do you fear?" said the sculptress.
"Myself," said Paul.
"He who cannot master himself is like the beast of the field."
