Is it rude to ask?"
For it greatly puzzled him why, when some of the bric-a-brac was
all full of life and motion, some was quite still and had not a
single thrill in it.
"My dear child," said the powdered lady, "is it possible that you
do not know the reason? Why, those silent, dull things are
IMITATION!"
This she said with so much decision that she evidently considered
it a condensed but complete answer.
"Imitation?" repeated August, timidly, not understanding.
"Of course! Lies, falsehoods, fabrications!" said the princess in
pink shoes, very vivaciously. "They only PRETEND to be what we
ARE! They never wake up: how can they? No imitation ever had any
soul in it yet."
"Oh!" said August, humbly, not even sure that he understood
entirely yet. He looked at Hirschvogel: surely it had a royal soul
within it: would it not wake up and speak? Oh, dear! how he longed
to hear the voice of his fire-king! And he began to forget that he
stood by a lady who sat upon a pedestal of gold-and-white china,
with the year 1746 cut on it, and the Meissen mark.
"What will you be when you are a man?" said the little lady,
sharply, for her black eyes were quick though her red lips were
smiling. "Will you work for the Konigliche Porcellan-Manufactur,
like my great dead Kandler?"
"I have never thought," said August, stammering; "at least--that
is--I do wish--I do hope to be a painter, as was Master Augustin
Hirschvogel at Nurnberg.
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