we made way for him. His siesta had evidently been suddenly broken, for his face was flushed and his hair disordered.
"Ah, my dream—my dream was right, then!" he cried, and stood staring at the image.
"What was your dream?" I asked, as his face seemed to betray more dismay than delight.
"That they 'd found a Juno; and that she rose and came and laid her marble hand on mine. Eh?" said the Count, excitedly.
A kind of awe-struck, guttural a-ah! burst from the listening workmen.
"This is the hand!" said the little explorer, holding up his perfect fragment. "I've had it this half-hour, so it can't have touched you."
"But you're apparently right as to her being a Juno," I said. "Admire her at your leisure." And I turned away; for if the Count was superstitious, I wished to leave him free to relieve himself. I repaired to the house to carry the news to my goddaughter, whom I found slumbering—dreamlessly, it appeared—over a great archæological octavo. "They've touched bottom," I said. "They've found a Juno of Praxiteles at the very least!" She dropped her octavo, and rang for a parasol. I described the statue, but not graphically, I presume, for Martha gave a little sarcastic grimace.
