“Has there been any treachery at work here?” asked Baynton. “Is there a scheme to entrap you?” The youth nodded a melancholy and slow assent. “But why should you be obnoxious to these people? Have you any enemies amongst them?” “I cannot tell,” gloomily muttered the youth. “And this is your statue?” said Baynton, as, opening a large shutter, he suffered a flood of moonlight to fall on the figure. [Illustration: 242] “Fine!--a work of great merit, Baynton,” broke in his Lordship, whose apathy was at last overcome by admiration. But the youth stood regardless of their comments, his eyes bent upon the ground; nor did he heed them as they moved from side to side, examining the statue in all its details, and in words of high praise speaking their approval. “I'll buy this,” muttered his Lordship. “I'll give him an order, too, for another work,--leaving the subject to himself.” “A clever fellow, certainly,” replied the other. “Whom does he mean the figure to represent?” “It is Alcibiades as he meets his death,” broke in the youth; “he is summoned to the door as though to welcome a friend, and he falls pierced by a poisoned arrow,--there is but legend to warrant the fact. I cared little for the incident,--I was full of the man, as he contended with seven chariots in the Olympic games, and proudly rode the course with his glittering shield of ivory and gold, and his waving locks all perfumed. I thought of him in his gorgeous panoply, and his voluptuousness; lion-hearted and danger-seeking, pampering the very flesh he offered to the spears of the enemy. I pictured him to my mind, embellishing life with every charm, and daring death in every shape,--beautiful as Apollo, graceful as the bounding Mercury, bold as Achilles, the lion's whelp, as Æschylus calls him. This,” added he, in a tone of depression,--“this is but a sorry version of what my mind had conceived.” “I arrest you, Sebastiano Greppi,” said a voice from behind; and suddenly three gendarmes surrounded the youth, who stood still and speechless with terror, while a mean-looking man in shabby black gathered up the printed proclamations that lay about, and commenced a search for others throughout the studio. “Ask them will they take our bail for his appearance, Baynton,” said my lord, eagerly. “No use,--they 'd only laugh at us,” was the reply. “Can we be of any service to you? Is there anything we can do?” asked his Lordship of the boy. “You must not communicate with the prisoner, signore,” cried the brigadier, “if you don't wish to share his arrest.” “And this, doubtless,” said the man in black, standing, and holding up the lantern to view the statue,--“this is the figure of Liberty we have heard of, pierced by the deadly arrow of Tyranny!”