Page:Plays by Jacinto Benavente - Third series (IA playstranslatedf03benauoft).pdf/119

 goes to make life dear. Among the other models she attracted no attention. The painters saw nothing in her; neither did I. But one day she stopped me as I was passing to beg some coppers. There was no weakness in her voice, no note of complaint; the tone was firm and strong. It compelled attention. So I spoke to her, and her face lit up as we talked, she became a different person—there was another look in her eyes, a new expressiveness in every feature. She was no longer the poor, pinched model; she was a work of art—she was my statue, Imperia, which soon afterward made my reputation. Do you remember? There it stood, with feet bare, and tattered skirt, the body half naked as if she had just clambered up a precipice, and by a last, despairing effort was sinking exhausted on the top into a throne, while upon her face there shone an ineffable light, the smile of life triumphant over death-or of death itself and its calm. It is a long time since I have seen the statue. My ideas of art are not what they were then, but I am sure there was something in it. The combination of the materials was audacious: the rocks of the pedestal were of granite, the figure was marble, and the throne gilded bronze, which shone like gold.

. What was the significance of the statue?

. How can I tell? An artist believes that he speaks through his works, but the works take on form and speak for themselves. The statue was—you can see it—it was woman, Imperia, a wretched creature who has climbed up over the rocks, her body lacerated and torn, until she is about to seat herself upon a throne. Perhaps it was something more—the mastery of life and all that is in it, achieved at last by the poor and the outcast! How can I tell? It was the might of the soul to realize its dream! And who of us has not his dream, at least of a throne—a throne where