muscles of neck and chest and arms and thighs all developed by the
gymnasium into the perfection of Greek beauty, and all useless, more
useless even, as far as the world's work was concerned, than the
muscles of a racehorse. There he was fixed, with outstretched limbs
and strained loins, a human being far more alive than the peering,
measuring throng, far more important, called by a destiny infinitely
higher than theirs. And none of them suspected it. For the first
time he saw himself as they saw him. They admired him as a thing, an
animal trained especially for them, a prize bullock. As a human
being they disregarded him. Nay, in the depth of their hearts they
despised him. Not one of them would have stood where he did. He
would have considered it--rightly--as degrading to his manhood.

The head of the school snapped his fingers impatiently and fussed up
to the model-stand. "What's the matter? Tired already? Take it easy
for a minute, if you like."

"No," said Paul, instinctively stiffening himself. "I'm never
tired."

It was his boast that he could stand longer in a given pose than any
other model, and thereby he had earned reputation.

"Then don't go to pieces, my boy," said the head of the school, not
unkindly. "You're supposed to be a Greek athlete and not Venus
rising from the sea or a jelly at a children's party."

Paul flushed all over, and insane anger shook him. How dared the
mar. speak to him like that? He kept the pose, thinking wild
thoughts. Every moment the strain grew less bearable, the