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Charming
by
And he unfolded to both of them the loveliness of nature in creation, pointing out how the living stood higher in the scale than the dead creature, how the plant was developed beyond the mineral, the animal beyond the plant, and man beyond the animal. He strove to show them how mind and beauty become manifest in outward form, and how it was the sculptor’s task to seize that beauty and to manifest it in his works.
Kala stood silent, and nodded approbation of the expressed thought, while mamma-in-law made the following confession:
“It’s difficult to follow all that. But I manage to hobble after you with my thoughts, though they whirl round and round, but I contrive to hold them fast.”
And Kala’s beauty held Alfred fast, filled his soul, and seized and mastered him. Beauty gleamed forth from Kala’s every feature–gleamed from her eyes, lurked in the corners of her mouth, and in every movement of her fingers. Alfred the sculptor saw this: he spoke only of her, thought only of her, and the two became one; and thus it may be said that she spoke much, for he and she were one, and he was always talking of her.
Such was the betrothal; and now came the wedding, with bridesmaids and wedding presents, all duly mentioned in the wedding speech.
Mamma-in-law had set up Thorwaldsen’s bust at the end of the table, attired in a dressing-gown, for he was to be a guest; such was her whim. Songs were sung and cheers were given, for it was a gay wedding, and they were a handsome pair. “Pygmalion received his Galatea,” so one of the songs said.
“Ah, that’s your mythologies,” said mamma-in-law.
Next day the youthful pair started for Copenhagen, where they were to live. Mamma-in-law accompanied them, “to take care of the commonplace,” as she said, meaning the domestic economy. Kala was like a doll in a doll’s house, all was so bright, so new, and so fine. There they sat, all three; and as for Alfred, to use a proverb that will describe his position, we may say that he sat like the friar in the goose-yard.
The magic of form had enchanted him. He had looked at the case, and cared not to inquire what the case contained, and that omission brings unhappiness, much unhappiness, into married life; for the case may be broken, and the gilt may come off; and then the purchaser may repent his bargain. In a large party it is very disagreeable to observe that one’s buttons are giving way, and that there are no buckles to fall back upon; but it is worse still in a great company to become aware that wife and mother-in-law are talking nonsense, and that one cannot depend upon oneself for a happy piece of wit to carry off the stupidity of the thing.
The young married pair often sat hand in hand, he speaking and she letting fall a word here and there–the same melody, the same clear, bell-like sounds. It was a mental relief when Sophy, one of her friends, came to pay a visit.
Sophy was not pretty. She was certainly free from bodily deformity, though Kala always asserted she was a little crooked; but no eye save a friend’s would have remarked it. She was a very sensible girl, and it never occurred to her that she might become at all dangerous here. Her appearance was like a pleasant breath of air in the doll’s house; and air was certainly required here, as they all acknowledged. They felt they wanted airing, and consequently they came out into the air, and mamma-in-law and the young couple travelled to Italy.
* * * * *
“Thank Heaven that we are in our own four walls again,” was the exclamation of mother and daughter when they came home, a year after.
“There’s no pleasure in travelling,” said mamma-in-law. “To tell the truth, it’s very wearisome–I beg pardon for saying so. I found the time hang heavy, though I had my children with me; and it’s expensive work, travelling, very expensive! And all those galleries one has to see, and the quantity of things you are obliged to run after! You must do it for decency’s sake, for you’re sure to be asked when you come back; and then you’re sure to be told that you’ve omitted to see what was best worth seeing. I got tired at last of those endless Madonnas; one seemed to be turning a Madonna oneself!”