“Say no more, dear boy!” said the doctor, beaming with delight. “I have only done my duty. Anybody else would have done the same.”
“I am the only son of my mother. We are poor, and, of course, can not repay you for your labors as you have deserved—and we feel it deeply. At the same time my mother—I am her only son, doctor—my mother humbly begs you to accept as a token of our gratitude a little statuette she values very highly. It is a piece of antique bronze, and a rare work of art.”
“My good fellow—” commenced the physician.
“No, doctor, you must not refuse,” continued Alexander, unfolding his parcel. “You will deeply offend mother and myself, too. It is a little beauty. A rare antique. We have kept it in memory of father, who was a dealer in antique bronzes. My mother and myself continue the business.”
Finally the youth succeeded in freeing his present from its wrappings, and placed it on the table with an air of great solemnity. It was a moderately tall candelabrum of antique bronze and of artistic workmanship. It represented two female figures somewhat scantily attired, and bearing an air of frivolity to describe which I have neither the required daring nor the temperament. The figures smiled coquettishly, and looked as if they were ready to jump on the floor and to engage in some wild frolic, were they not restrained by the task of supporting the candle holder.
The doctor regarded his present for a few moments in silence, then scratched his head and coughed irresolutely.
“A beautiful article, to be sure,” he finally said. “But you know—what shall I say? Why, it is hardly the thing, you know. Talk of déshabillé! This is beyond the bounds of propriety. The devil!”
“W-w-why?”
“Now, how could I put a thing like that on my table? It will corrupt my residence.”
“Doctor, you surprise me,” answered Alexander, with an offended tone, “What queer views of art! This is a work of art! Look at it! What beauty, what delicacy of workmanship! It fills the soul with joy merely to look at it; it brings tears to one’s eyes. Observe the movement, the atmosphere, the expression!”