"Vanity is self-esteem run
to seed."
"Sage! Let me make haste to carve the pedestal that I may know how low
to do obeisance to wisdom. Hold it so, I pray thee."
He took the statue and set it on a flat cornice jutting from the stone
wall. Rachel obediently steadied it. He selected from his tools a
knife with a rounded point of wonderful keenness and smoothed away the
chalk in bulk. They stood close together, the sculptor bending from
his commanding height to work. From time to time he shifted his
position, touching her hand often and saying little.
The pedestal given shape, he began its elaboration. Pattern after
pattern of graceful foliation emerged till the design assumed the
intricate complexity of the Egyptic style.
Rachel watched with absorbed interest, her head unconsciously settling
to one side in critical contemplation. Kenkenes, pressing the blade
firmly upon the chalk, felt her cheek touch his shoulder for a fraction
of a second; his fingers lost their steadiness and direction, but not
their strength; the blade slipped, and the fierce edge struck the white
hand that held the statuette.
With a cry he dropped the knife, flung one arm about her and drew her
very close to him.
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