"
"You know they're quite right," said Esther. "It has a terribly
grotesque air of theater even now."
"It _is_ a theater," growled Wharton. "That is what ails our religion.
But it is not the fault of our art, and if you had come here a little
earlier, I would have made one more attempt. I would like now, even as
it is, to go back to the age of beauty, and put a Madonna in the heart
of their church. The place has no heart."
"I never could have given you help enough for that, Mr. Wharton; but
what does it matter about my poor Cecilia? She does no harm up here. No
one can see her, and after all it is only her features that are modern!"
"No harm at all, but I wish I were a woman like you. Perhaps I could
have my own way."
Esther liked to have her own way. She had the instinct of power, but not
the love of responsibility, and now that she found herself allowed to
violate Wharton's orders and derange his plans, she became alarmed,
asked no more favors, stuck closely to her work, and kept Catherine
always at her side. She even tried to return on her steps and follow
Wharton's wishes, until she was stopped by Catherine's outcry. Then it
appeared that Wharton had gone over to her side. Instead of supporting
Esther in giving severity to the figure, he wanted it to be the closest
possible likeness of Catherine herself. Esther began to think that men
were excessively queer and variable; the more she tried to please them,
the less she seemed to succeed; but Mr.
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