At about ten o'clock the next morning Ritter himself gave Frederick a very glad, bright welcome to his studio, and assigned to him a small room opening on Miss Burns's room. Miss Burns proposed that he begin by copying a plaster-cast of the arm of the Saxon athlete.
Frederick for the first time handled the moist clay fraught with so much significance, the clay out of which the gods made man and man in turn has made gods. As a result of the hours he had spent in Rome with sculptor friends, watching them work and observing each movement of their fingers, he accomplished his task with great ease, to his own astonishment and Miss Burns's admiration. His anatomical knowledge and medical experience also stood him in good stead. Shortly before completing his course as a medical student, he had for a time entertained the idea of publishing an anatomy for sculptors, and with this in view had made a number of drawings which won the favour of real connoisseurs.
After Frederick had worked feverishly with his shirt sleeves rolled up for three hours, the athlete's muscular arm began to take shape clearly, and he felt a sense of satisfaction wholly novel to him. In working he completely forgot who he was, and where he was. When Willy Snyders came in, as he usually did on his way from his work to luncheon for the purpose of saying "how-do-you-do" to Bonifacius Ritter and art, it seemed to Frederick that he had been awakened from a dream and called back to a strange life.
"I am sorry to have to leave work and go to lunch. Lunch is really a very disturbing thing," he confessed.
When Ritter entered, they all laughed heartily at his genuine passion for sculpture.
"When I return to Europe," he said, "I must immediately make portraits of my three children."
Miss Burns and Willy Snyders had actually made Frederick proud by their praise, though in Ritter's presence they turned silent awaiting the master's verdict.
"You must certainly have modelled in clay before," said Ritter. Frederick could honestly deny that he ever had. "Well," Ritter rejoined, "then you have handled your material like a man who has art in his blood. To judge by this first attempt, it seems to me you have merely been waiting for the clay and the clay has been waiting for you."
"We'll see," said Frederick, and added, "Unfortunately there is a serious drawback. The saying is that all beginnings are difficult. My former experiences lead me to believe that with me the reverse is generally true. As a rule I win the first and second round of chess, or cards, or billiards, and lose in the end. I succeeded at first in my practice and my bacteriological researches. If I write a book, only the first and second chapters are worth anything."
The artists refused to believe this, though there was a grain of truth in what he said. Nevertheless, Frederick left the studio with them in a healthier frame of mind than he had been in for years.
But his spirits departed in a measure after he had spoken with Ingigerd Hahlström in the club-house. The girl listened unsympathetically, if not ironically, to his account of his new occupation. Ritter, Willy and Lobkowitz were secretly outraged at her disdainful remarks, especially since they observed that Frederick was still entangled in the girl's meshes, body and soul.
She told him he must go to Webster and Forster and insist on their withdrawing a notification which they had sent to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Since her new contract with Lilienfeld meant the loss of the money that she was worth to them, they wanted revenge, at least, and were going to put a spoke in their competitor's wheel. Ingigerd, beside herself with rage, told Frederick that in the morning she had had a brief rehearsal in the theatre, and a representative of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children had announced his intention of attending the rehearsal the next day. She was bent upon letting her light shine in New York and receiving twofold homage, the homage of pity and the homage of admiration. Besides, she did not want to lose the money in prospect. If she were prevented from appearing in New York, there was no chance for her anywhere in the United States.
It was useless to oppose the girl's obstinate will. Whether or no, to his unspoken disgust, Frederick had to perform messenger and handy-man services for the little star. He rushed from Webster and Forster to Lilienfeld, from Lilienfeld to the attorneys, Brown and Samuelson, from Second Avenue to Fourth Avenue, from Fourth Avenue to Fifth Avenue, finally to knock at the door of Mr. Garry himself, the head of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, and represent to him Ingigerd Hahlström's position, which was, that by preventing her appearance, the society would expose her to material want in a strange country. Mr. Garry refused to receive Frederick.
Fortunately for him, Willy Snyders the good-hearted, in order to make things as easy as possible for him, sacrificed himself by obtaining an afternoon's leave of absence from work. His saucy, healthy humour, his jolly remarks on New York conditions helped Frederick through many unpleasant moments.
Frederick was happy when the next morning came and he could go at his modelling again. His brain, whirling with the rattle and clatter of New York, could spend itself in his passionate occupation, which employed both his eyes and his hands. He deemed himself fortunate for being genuinely unpractical and not having to take part in that gruesome horse-racing and sack-racing and target-shooting, that crawling and dancing and jumping for the sacrosanct dollar. The very breath of that frenzied life tore the garments of his soul into shreds, as it were, while this simple occupation of modelling the details of the athlete's arm, was healing to his soul. He was conscious of it. Now and then Miss Burns came in to inspect his work and exchange a few words with him. He liked this. Her companionable presence soothed him and even made him happy. Her figure, her gestures, her conversation seemed to be the very essence of firmness and repose, and her self-sufficiency always aroused Frederick's silent admiration. When he told her how perceptibly his new work acted as a sedative upon him, she replied that she had had the same experience, and if he did not fly off at a tangent but remained steadily at the work, he would feel the good it did him even more.