very curves of the muscles and the line of the back and hips quivered between the realms of ecstasy and that disgust which follows quickly upon satiety. It was a glorification of sensuality. Indeed, the sculptor had done his work so well that for a long time the little group about the excavation stood awed into silence, as if something had risen from the red clay which roused disturbing memories in those who were experienced and disturbing intimations in those who had remained until that moment virginal. No one could have remained entirely chaste after looking upon the statue.
There were certain portions of the statue missing, and Mrs. Weatherby, noting this, said, "I'll set Giovanni to work tomorrow digging for the rest."
But Father d'Astier protested quickly, perhaps in the interests of the church or perhaps because he thought such a piece of marble better buried forever.
"I think it's no use, Mrs. Weatherby. You might dig up the whole garden without discovering anything. That is usually the case."
Giovanni suddenly turned the statue full upon its back so that the face, amazingly preserved, looked up at them. It was the face of an old man, but a full vigorous face partly covered by a magnificent curling beard drawn back to expose the lips, in which there was that same sensual beauty hovering between ecstasy and disgust. Winnery, looking down at it, thought, "It is a beautiful thing, but a dangerous and disturbing one. Having it about, no one would ever have peace. Perhaps it is safe with Mrs. Weatherby. She is possibly insensitive to everything." And then he saw suddenly that Miss Fos-
