Every day she sat for a few hours to the clever American painter Healy,
who was an admirer of her talent, and called her abilities genius. Every
day she worked at Antonelli's bust. To obtain permission to execute it,
she had merely, dressed in her most beautiful white gown, asked for an
audience of the dreaded cardinal, and had at once obtained permission.
Her intrepid manner had impressed the hated statesman of the political
and ecclesiastical reaction, and in her representation of him he
appeared, too, in many respects nobler and more refined than he was. But
besides modelling the cardinal's bust, she put the finishing touches to
two others, saw to her parents' household affairs and expenses, and
found time every day to spend a few hours with me, either in a walk or
wandering about the different picture-galleries.
She maintained the family, for her parents had nothing at all. But when
the statue of Lincoln had been ordered from her, Congress had
immediately advanced ten thousand dollars. So she was able to live free
from care, though for that matter she troubled not at all about money.
She was very ignorant of things outside her own field, and the words
_my work_ were the only ones that she spoke with passion. What she
knew, she had acquired practically, through travel and association with
a multiplicity of people.
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