Continuation of story posted in 2015 … See https://www.renderosity.com/gallery/items/2612541/dollmaker-dollmaker-make-me-a-wife “And no will of her own?” The old man looked keenly at Victor and raised an eyebrow. “If you want her to have her own will, Victor, you must be prepared to accept the fact that she will not be so much a servant as a companion - and she may well disagree with you at times. The men who come to me do not look for independence of will or mind in these dolls - they find quite sufficient of that in their own wives.” “It does not seem right for her to be just a mindless servant.” “I see. You wish her to be a person. Very well, Victor, but do not come running to me to alter her once you leave here.” Victor nodded. “Then so be it, Victor. She has her own will; but remember she is not human, and will not age and die.” “What happens to her, then?” “That is up to her, Victor. Now - Lisa,” he said, addressing the doll, “here is Victor; you will go with him, and protect him as he protects you.” “And all you usually ask is one silver coin - for all this?” asked Victor, looking at Lisa, who smiled back at him. “The wrong person could not buy my art for all the gold coins in the kingdom. Now go - and peace be with you, Victor.” “With you be peace,” responded Victor, and walked out, followed by Lisa. Outside in the evening dusk he looked around, and wondered: whither now, o wanderer? The Dollmaker watched them walk off towards the east. he smiled to himself. Dollmaker, dollmaker, he chuckled, and turned back to his dolls. “Dance, my loves,” he said, and the room was filled with music and the light tapping of their feet. He settled himself into his chair by the bay window, lit his pipe, and listened to the swirling of their dresses, the thin humming that replaced a heart-beat. They could be made with hearts that beat - as Lisa had been - but that was only in special cases. He rose frtom his chair, put down his pipe and left the cottage. The air was fresh and cool. He smiled. He looked up to the skies and bowed to the Goddess. 'Now I know what you feel like when you look down on the beautiful ones of your creation. And yet I am happier than you, and I feel I am the greater. For I am old and ugly and I can create dolls far more beautiful than myself, beautiful and constant in themselves and their affections; but you, o Goddess, cannot excel your own beauty.' The Goddess listened to the Dollmaker, smiled at his vanity, and accepted his praises.