VII
In the restored calm of the villa, where the goddess lay on her golden bed, Giorgio Merula went up to the stranger who was still measuring.
'You are studying the proportions of divinity?' said the scholar patronisingly: 'You would reduce beauty to mathematics?'
The other raised his eyes for an instant; then silently, as if he had not heard the question, continued his work. The compasses contracted and expanded, describing geometrical figures; quietly and firmly the stranger put the angle measure to the fair lips of Aphrodite—lips whose smile had struck terror into Giovanni's heart—reckoned the result, and set it in a note-book.
'Pardon my curiosity,' insisted Merula, 'how many divisions are there?'
'This is a rough measurement,' said the unknown, unwillingly; 'generally I divide the human face into degrees, minutes, seconds and thirds, each division being the twelfth part of the preceding one.'
'Say you so?' cried Merula, 'meseems the last subdivision must be less than the finest hair.'
'A third,' explained the other still grudgingly, 'is 1/48823 of the whole face.'
Merula lifted his eyebrows with an incredulous smile. 'Well, we live and learn. I never thought it were possible to reach such accuracy.'