"A Modern Hercules," the Tale of a SculptressWinstock, Melvin G.
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"A Modern Hercules," the Tale of a Sculptress
Winstock, Melvin G.
American fiction -- 19th century
In a moment their bodies were in close embrace, he enfolding her within
his mighty and powerful grasp. After a moment, however, he put her
gently from him, and said: “You but mock me by showing me a view of
Paradise, only to snatch the entrancing picture from my eyes.”
“No,” she said, exalted through the intensity of her artistic emotion,
“I feel a strange, uncontrollable desire to own you, body and soul.”
“I fear, I dream, I dream,” said Paul, but Ouida hurried on:
“You are a giant. You could take any one of these pigmies that flutter
and buzz about me, in your arms, and could crush life completely out.
I hate them all. I would throttle, and at the same time strangle, the
indignation of society. I would bitterly enrage these dogs who fawn on
me.”
“And use me as the instrument? What, then, shall become of me?” said
Paul.
“You? Why, Paul, you shall be the central moving figure,” said Ouida.
“What care I? Use me as you will. ’Tis enough for me to know that you
but reach your hand.”
“Come to my arms then again,” she cried in the ecstacy of this novel
and entrancing emotion. “Let us revel in delight, you pauper! You dog!
You base born thing, to whom vile society would scarcely throw a crumb!”
“Oh, the delight,” said Paul, “of spurning these little creatures. A
month of such sweet vengeance, and you may have my life.”
“I’ll dress these mighty limbs of yours,” she cried. “I’ll flaunt your
very baseness in their eyes. I’ll make them crawl to you for the price
of a smile from me. They shall pay in deepest humiliation for the
privilege of adoring me from afar. We, Paul, you and I, will richly
repay society for its wrongs to us.”
She seemed now exhausted from the intensity of her feelings.
“Go now,” she said, tenderly; and without question Paul went away from
her, exalted, bewildered, astonished, uplifted, amazed, but happy, and
inwardly rejoicing at the wondrous change which had taken place in his
fortunes. Poor fool! From his dizzy height he saw not the chasm yawning
in greediness below.
CHAPTER XIII.
A RICH MAN’S BALL.
A great social leader of the Metropolis had given a ball, to which had
been invited not only the “Four Hundred,” but a large proportion of New
York’s Bohemian Colony as well.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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