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The Sculptor's Triumph.
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dew started from his brow; a cold tremor ran through his frame; his heart sank as with the pressure of a leaden weight. The door which opened to admit those stern-visaged old men had let out his last hope. His only struggle now was to bear the sentence of condemnation like a man; his only wish that the interview might be quickly over.

For a few moments deep silence followed the disclosure of the statue. The stillness was broken by an exclamation from the eldest of the visitors. Andrea turned involuntarily. The features of the old man evinced violent emotion, as with piercing, uncompromising eyes, he intently surveyed the marble form. It was not admiration his countenance expressed, nor disappointment, nor disapproval, it was absolute horror.

In the looks of the other two judges the most casual observer could have read wonder and delight. They whispered together for a moment, then turned to Andrea.

"It is a noble work, full of power, full of genius!" exclaimed one of these two, with enthusiasm.

"I was never more amazed! I expected nothing like this!" ejauclated the other.

"It will be admitted to the exhibition, then?" asked Andrea, eagerly.

"Admitted?" replied the judge who had first spoken. "Young man, it will win the prize. Is not that your opinion?" turning to his companion.

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