“Incidentally,” went on Peter, “you may as well fasten in your memory the facts that this arch was built about 200 A.D., in commemoration of the victorious wars of our friend Severus. These not very beautiful sculpturings represent his soldiers, but as art had begun to decline when these figures were cut, you needn’t bother about them much.”
“I think they’re rather nice,” said Patty, examining the multitudinous small figures in bas-relief, “but I’m glad I haven’t to learn all their names, for there are so many more attractive sculptures.”
“There are indeed. But I want you to remember the arch as a whole. And now that you’ve eaten every last crumb, step outside, and take a look at the beautiful thing.”
The quartette lined up, facing the arch, and Peter pointed out its special points of beauty and excellence.
“Where is there another arch, very similar to this?” he asked, at length, and his three hearers tried to think.
“I know!” said Patty, her eyes shining, “it’s in Paris. Not the Arc de Triomphe, that has only one front door,—but the other, the Arc du Carrousel!”
“Right you are,” said Peter, approvingly. “The Arc du Carrousel was modelled after this one. Remember that, when you have a remembering fit.”
“But the Carrousel one has a flight of horses on top,” said Patty.
“Right again, my acute observer. However, Mr. Severus once had six fine horses and a chariot on top of this one. Also a statue of himself and his two sons. So, you see, it’s a bit of a ruin after all.”
“It is so,” said Violet. “So much so that, until now, I’ve liked the Arch of Constantine better; but now that’s tottering on its pedestal.”