The Capitoline Venus
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✒ Author | Mark Twain |
📖 Pages | 9 |
⏰ Reading time | 20 minutes |
💡 Originally published | 1869 |
🌏 Original language | English |
📌 Types | Stories , Stories |
📌 Genres | Realism, Ironic, Realism, Ironic |
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CHAPTER I
[Scene-An Artist's Studio in Rome.]
"Oh, George, I do love you!"
"Bless your dear heart, Mary, I know that — why is your father so obdurate?"
"George, he means well, but art is folly to him — he only understands groceries. He thinks you would starve me."
"Confound his wisdom — it savors of inspiration. Why am I not a money- making bowelless grocer, instead of a divinely gifted sculptor with nothing to eat?"
"Do not despond, Georgy, dear — all his prejudices will fade away as soon as you shall have acquired fifty thousand dol — "
"Fifty thousand demons! Child, I am in arrears for my board!"
CHAPTER II
[Scene-A Dwelling in Rome.]
"My dear sir, it is useless to talk. I haven't anything against you, but I can't let my daughter marry a hash of love, art, and starvation — I believe you have nothing else to offer."
"Sir, I am poor, I grant you. But is fame nothing? The Hon. Bellamy Foodle of Arkansas says that my new statue of America, is a clever piece of sculpture, and he is satisfied that my name will one day be famous."
"Bosh! What does that Arkansas ass know about it? Fame's nothing — the market price of your marble scarecrow is the thing to look at. It took you six months to chisel it, and you can't sell it for a hundred dollars. No, sir! Show me fifty thousand dollars and you can have my daughter — otherwise she marries young Simper. You have just six months to raise the money in. Good morning, sir."
"Alas! Woe is me!"
CHAPTER III
[ Scene-The Studio.]
"Oh, John, friend of my boyhood, I am the unhappiest of men."
"You're a simpleton!"
"I have nothing left to love but my poor statue of America — and see, even she has no sympathy for me in her cold marble countenance — so beautiful and so heartless!"
"You're a dummy!"
"Oh, John!"
Oh, fudge! Didn't you say you had six months to raise the money in?"
"Don't deride my agony, John. If I had six centuries what good would it do? How could it help a poor wretch without name, capital, or friends?"
"Idiot! Coward! Baby! Six months to raise the money in — and five will do!"
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