"And what do you think of sculpture?"
"It is very poor business," replied Hulot, shaking his head. "It needs
high patronage as well as great talent, for Government is the only
purchaser. It is an art with no demand nowadays, where there are no
princely houses, no great fortunes, no entailed mansions, no
hereditary estates. Only small pictures and small figures can find a
place; the arts are endangered by this need of small things."
"But if a great artist could find a demand?" said Hortense.
"That indeed would solve the problem."
"Or had some one to back him?"
"That would be even better."
"If he were of noble birth?"
"Pooh!"
"A Count."
"And a sculptor?"
"He has no money."
"And so he counts on that of Mademoiselle Hortense Hulot?" said the
Baron ironically, with an inquisitorial look into his daughter's eyes.
"This great artist, a Count and a sculptor, has just seen your
daughter for the first time in his life, and for the space of five
minutes, Monsieur le Baron," Hortense calmly replied. "Yesterday, you
must know, dear little father, while you were at the Chamber, mamma
had a fainting fit. This, which she ascribed to a nervous attack, was
the result of some worry that had to do with the failure of my
marriage, for she told me that to get rid of me---"
"She is too fond of you to have used an expression----"
"So unparliamentary!" Hortense put in with a laugh.
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