Page:The plumed serpent - 1926.djvu/188

“And did you make the sandals too?”

“Yes! They were made by Manuel. Later I will show you.”

“Oh, I should like to see!—They are beautiful, don’t you think, Doña Carlota?”

“Yes! Yes! It is true. But whether beautiful things are wise things, I don’t know. So much I don’t know, Señora. Ay, so much!—And you, do yon know what is wise?”

“I?” said Kate. “I don’t care very much.”

“Ah! You don’t care!—You think Ramón is wise, to wear the peasants’ clothes, and the huaraches?” For once Doña Carlota was speaking in slow English.

“Oh, yes!” cried Kate. “He looks so handsome!—Men’s clothes are so hideous, and Don Ramón looks so handsome in those!” With the big hat poised on his head, he had a certain air of nobility and authority.

“Ah!” cried Doña Carlota, looking at the other woman with intelligent, half-scared eyes, and swinging the key of the boat. “Shall we go to the lake?”

The two women departed. Ramón, laughing to himself, went out of the gate and across the outer yard, to where a big, barn-like building stood near the trees. He entered the barn, and gave a low whistle. It was answered from the loft above, and a trap-door opened. Don Ramón went up the steps, and found himself in a sort of studio and carpenter’s shop. A fattish young man with curly hair, wearing an artist’s blouse, and with mallet and chisels in his hand, greeted him.

“How is it going?” asked Ramón.

“Yes—well—”

The artist was working on a head, in wood. It was larger than life, conventionalised. Yet under the conventional lines the likeness to Ramón revealed itself.

“Sit for me for half an hour,” said the sculptor.

Ramón sat in silence, while the other man bent over his model, working in silent concentration. And all the time, Ramón sat erect, almost motionless, with a great stillness of repose and concentration, about nothing, but throwing out the dark aura of power, in the spell of which the artist worked.

“That is enough,” he said at last, quietly rising.