a reversed funereal cippus forming a sufficiently solid pedestal. The little explorer, who seemed an expert in all the offices of restoration, rubbed her and scraped her with mysterious art, removed her earthy stains, and doubled the lustre of her beauty. Her mellow substance seemed to glow with a kind of renascent purity and bloom, and, but for her broken hand, you might have fancied she had just received the last stroke of the chisel. Her fame remained no secret. Within two or three days half a dozen inquisitive conoscenti posted out to obtain sight of her. I happened to be present when the first of these gentlemen (a German in blue spectacles, with a portfolio under his arm) presented himself at the Villa. The Count, hearing his voice at the door, came forward and eyed him coldly from head to foot.
"Your new Juno, Signor Conte," began the Ger man, "is, in my opinion, much more likely to be a certain Proserpine—"
"I 've neither a Juno nor a Proserpine to discuss with you," said the Count, curtly. "You 're misinformed."
"You 've dug up no statue?" cried the German. "What a scandalous hoax!"
"None worthy of your learned attention. I'm sorry you should have the trouble of carrying your little note-book so far." The Count had suddenly become witty!
