My birthday, and the most hectic day of my life!
In the morning I worked more or less calmly. The “Victory” was just
being finished, Smith was chipping away the last remains of mould.
Rigamonti, under my direction was punching the block of Princess Pat.,
so that marble chips flew like shrapnel in all directions. Meanwhile,
Hart came to get my last orders about marble pedestals for unfinished
bronzes, and on top of all Fiorini turned up.
He was terribly hurt because I have given the heads of Kameneff and
Krassin to Parlanti to cast. He had dreamed of doing them--he had a
Bolshevik workman in his foundry, who asked every day when those heads
were coming. He would have cast them, he said, for nothing, just for the
honour and glory of doing them. I felt terribly badly about it. The
little Italian man is such an enthusiast, and he met Kameneff here, who
shook hands with him, and Fiorini felt about it as most other people
would about their King.
Moreover, on that occasion, he hid behind a pedestal, and remained so
quiet for a quarter of an hour, watching me and my sitter, that I forgot
that he was there. But because I understood from him that he had as much
work as he could get through for me in time for my exhibition, I had
given the heads to Parlanti, who promised them in time.
I hope that I comforted him by promising to give him duplicates to cast,
as presents for Kameneff and Krassin, the which I had had no intention
of doing, and can ill afford, but to cheer up Fiorini, I will do it.
Then the telephone went and Klyschko announced to me that it was all
decided--Kameneff is starting on Saturday morning, has reserved places,
and I have nothing to do but get my ticket. I said that I was having
difficulties over my passport, and he explained to me that all I need is
the visa via Christiania to Stockholm, and that at Stockholm the
Esthonian Legation would see me through.
I dined with Sophie Wavertree and F. M. B. Fisher. He walked home with
me; he it was who originally brought me into this wonderful new world.