Pavan was caught up now in the never-ending struggle between artist and dealer.
He turned to his fellow artists.
"Only fifteen hundred francs he offers me!"
He whirled back to the dealer.
"Not a centime less than twenty-five hundred and a commission to do the sculpture of the woman from whom this was taken!" he shouted.
Leocadia looked down at the floor.
"How can I undertake such a commission when I do not know the model?"
Pavan spun around.
The models looked at each other curiously, wondering which of them had posed for that particular portion of the statue. But it was none of them.
Suddenly, Pavan's arm shot out.
"You!" he shouted, pointing. "Come here!"
They turned and followed his pointing finger.
Rina stood frozen to the spot.
Her face began to flame, then hands pulled her forward, propelling her toward the sculptor.
Pavan seized her hand and turned toward the dealer.
For once, Leocadia looked. Almost immediately, he looked away again.
"Agreed!" he murmured.
A deep bellow of triumph arose from the sculptor's throat.
He lifted Rina into his arms and kissed her excitedly on both cheeks.
"You will live forever, my lovely one!" he cried proudly. "I will carve your beauty into the stone for all eternity to worship!"
Rina began to laugh.
It was crazy. They were all crazy.
Pavan began to sing lustily, dragging her with him in an erratic dance.
He lifted her up onto the pedestal where the statue formerly stood.
She felt hands tugging at her dress, at her clothing.
She reached out her arms to brace herself, to keep from falling.
Then she was completely nude on the pedestal.
A strange hush fell over the room.
It was Pavan himself who led her down. He threw a cloth around her as she started to walk toward the bathroom.
One of the models handed her her torn clothing. Rina took it and closed the door behind her. A moment later, she reappeared.
Peggy was waiting for her.
She half led, half dragged Rina toward the door. The door slammed behind them.
Suddenly, one of the curtains in the mind of Amru Singh lifted.
Through the thin wooden partition behind his head, he could hear dim voices.
"Are you crazy?"
"It wasn't that important, Peggy."
"What if it gets into the papers?
The next thing you know, it will be picked up and spread all over the front pages in Boston!"
Rina's laughter echoed gaily.
"I can just see the headline now," she said.
"Boston girl chosen as most beautiful cunt in Paris!"
"You sound as if you're proud of it."
"Why shouldn't I be?
It's the only thing I've ever done for myself."
"Once it gets around, every man in Paris will be after you.
I suppose you'd like that."
"Maybe I would.
It's time I began to grow up, stopped taking your word for everything."
There was the sound of a vicious slap, then an angry voice.
"You're a whore, a cheap whore, and that's how a whore should be treated!"