"Speak," said the clergyman, somewhat impatiently, for he longed to be left alone again with his reflections, which had just assumed a most voluptuous complexion when his privacy was thus intruded upon.
"I will not detain you long—I will not detain you long," cried the old hag. "You must know, reverend sir, that a foreign sculptor—a poor Italian—came some few months ago to lodge at my humble dwelling. He was in the deepest distress, and had not the means to procure either marble or tools. I am very poor—very poor, myself, sir; but I could not see a fellow-creature starving. I bought him marble—and I bought him tools. He went to work, toiling day and night almost unweariedly; and a week ago he put the finishing stroke to the statue of a nymph. His art has enabled him, by means of colour, to give a life-like appearance to that admirable work of art; so that as you contemplate it, it seems to you as if the eyes were animated, the lips breathed, and the bosom rose and sank with respiration."
"And your artist is, no doubt, anxious to dispose of his statue?" said the rector.
"Precisely so," answered the hag. "I do not profess to be a judge myself; but I can speak of the effect which it produced upon me. When I saw it finished—standing upon its pedestal—I was about to address it as a living being."
"The effect must, then, be indeed striking," observed Reginald, with the voluptuous train of whose ideas this picture was well adapted to associate.
"Were you to judge for yourself, reverend sir," said the old hag, "you would find that I have not overrated the perfection of this masterpiece. The sculptor demands but a small price for his statue: it would be a charity were you to purchase it yourself, or recommend one of your friends to do so."
"When and where could I see this matchless work of art?" asked Reginald, whose curiosity was now strangely excited.
"At my own humble dwelling in Golden Lane is this statue concealed," replied the horrible old hag; "and no mortal eyes, save the sculptor's and mine own, have yet glanced upon it. If you will accompany me now, you can inspect it without delay."
Reginald referred to his watch, and found that it was past nine o'clock. The evening was pitch dark; and he did not, therefore, dread being seen in the company of that hideous old woman. Besides, even if he were—was he not often summoned at all hours to attend upon the last moments of some dying sinner?
"I will proceed with you at once to your abode," said the rector, after a few moments' hesitation.