Page:The Novels and Tales of Henry James, Volume 1 (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907).djvu/334

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RODERICK HUDSON

of a great mind. I myself touch liquor in no shape whatever. I have travelled through Europe on cold water. The most varied and attractive lists of wines are offered me, but I brush them aside. No cork has ever been drawn at my command."

"The movement of drawing a cork calls into play a very pretty set of muscles," said Roderick. "Jolly to make a figure in that position."

"A Bacchus realistically treated? My dear young friend, never trifle with your lofty mission. Spotless marble seems to me false to itself when it represents anything less than Conscious Temperance—'the golden mean' in all things." And while Mr. Leavenworth threw back his head, squared his shoulders and heaved his torso, as if to exorcise the spirit of levity, his attention broke again like a slow wave, this time on a marble replica of the bust of Christina.

"An ideal head, I presume," he went on; "a fanciful representation of one of the pagan goddesses—a Diana, a Flora, a naiad, a dryad? I often regret that our American artists should not boldly break with those artificial appellations."

"She's neither a naiad nor a dryad," said Roderick, "and her appellation 's as good as yours or mine."

"You call her—?" Mr. Leavenworth blandly enquired.

"Christina Light," Rowland interposed in charity.

"Ah, our great American beauty? Not a pagan goddess—an American Christian maiden. Yes, I 've had the pleasure of conversing with Miss Light. Her conversational powers are not quite what one might have expected, but her beauty 's of a high

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