On their way home Patty asked to stop at a picture shop so she might prove her assertions.
“I’m afraid to go in,” said Mr. Fairfield, as she paused at a small shop on the Rue de Rivoli, “you’ll buy seventeen more, and expect me to pay for them!”
“No, I won’t. Come on in; I know the dealer and he’ll show us his wares.”
The proprietor of the shop was a funny little old Frenchman, who spoke little English. He recognized Patty, and, shaking his head, said “Non, no ones that are new.”
“He means he hasn’t any new photographs of the Venus, since I was here yesterday,” explained Patty, laughing. “But, now, Father, look at these and I’ll show you what I mean.”
Together, they looked at a number of photographs of the celebrated statue, and suddenly Nan exclaimed; “You’re right, Patty! and I know why. It’s because all these photographs are taken from too high a level. We look at the face of the Venus from below, it was made to be looked at that way. But all these photographs have been taken by cameras raised to the level of the statue’s head, or above it, and that foreshortens her face the wrong way. Why, look, in this one you see all the top of her head. Looking at the real statue, you see only the hair above her brow. I can’t explain it exactly, but that’s what makes her expression so different.”
“It is, Nan,” cried Patty, “it makes her upper lip curl, and her nose shrink up!”
“Patty, Patty!” said her father, “don’t use such expressions. But I believe you’re right, Nan, a photograph taken from the same height as our eyes, would give a far different view of the face.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Patty. “Oh, I wish they’d let me take one.”