She got a big chisel, to use as a lever, and between us we managed to twist the pedestal round and round, so as to afford a view of the statue from all points.  Well, sir, it was perfectly charming, this girl’s innocence and purity—–­exhibiting her naked self, as it were, to a stranger and alone, and never once dreaming that there was the slightest indelicacy about the matter.  And so there wasn’t; but it will be many along day before I run across another woman who can do the like and show no trace of self-consciousness.

Well, then we sat down, and I took a smoke, and she told me all about her people in Massachusetts—­her father is a physician and it is an old and respectable family—­(I am able to believe anything she says.) And she told me how “Karl” is 26 years old; and how he has had passionate longings all his life toward art, but has always been poor and obliged to struggle for his daily bread; and how he felt sure that if he could only have one or two lessons in—­

“Lessons?  Hasn’t he had any lessons?”

No.  He had never had a lesson.

And presently it was dinner time and “Karl” arrived—­a slender young fellow with a marvelous head and a noble eye—­and he was as simple and natural, and as beautiful in spirit as his wife was.  But she had to do the talking—­mainly—­there was too much thought behind his cavernous eyes for glib speech.

I went home enchanted.  Told Livy and Clara Spaulding all about the paradise down yonder where those two enthusiasts are happy with a yearly expense of $350.  Livy and Clara went there next day and came away enchanted.  A few nights later the Gerhardts kept their promise and came here for the evening.  It was billiard night and I had company and so was not down; but Livy and Clara became more charmed with these children than ever.

Warner and I planned to get somebody to criticise the statue whose judgment would be worth something.  So I laid for Champney, and after two failures I captured him and took him around, and he said “this statue is full of faults—­but it has merits enough in it to make up for them” —­whereat the young wife danced around as delighted as a child.  When we came away, Champney said, “I did not want to say too much there, but the truth is, it seems to me an extraordinary performance for an untrained hand.  You ask if there is promise enough there to justify the Hartford folk in going to an expense of training this young man.  I should say, yes, decidedly; but still, to make everything safe, you had better get the judgment of a sculptor.”

Warner was in New York.  I wrote him, and he said he would fetch up Ward —­which he did.  Yesterday they went to the Gerhardts and spent two hours, and Ward came away bewitched with those people and marveling at the winning innocence of the young wife, who dropped naturally into model-attitude beside the statue (which is stark naked from head to heel, now—­G. had removed the drapery, fearing Ward would think he was afraid to try legs and hips) just as she has always done before.