'The more accurate the better,' returned his companion.
'Truly it may be so; yet, you know, in Art, in Beauty, all these mathematical calculations—What artist in the glow of enthusiasm, of fiery inspiration, breathed upon by God——'
'Yes, yes,' assented the unknown, evidently wearied; 'none the less I am anxious to know——'
And stooping he measured the distance from the roots of the hair to the chin.
'To know?' thought Giovanni. 'Can one know these matters? Folly! Does he not feel? understand?'
Merula, anxious to probe the other to the quick, talked on of the ancients, and how they should be imitated. The stranger waited till he had concluded, then said, smiling into his long golden beard:—
'He who can drink from the fountain will not drink from the cup.'
'By your leave!' shouted the scholar, 'if you call the ancients a cup, whom do you call the fountain?'
'Nature,' said the unknown quietly.
And Merula presumptuously and provokingly continuing to prate, he disputed no further, but assented with evasive politeness. Only in his cold eyes weariness and reserve became more manifest. At last Messer Giorgio, having come to the end of his argument, was reduced to silence. Then the other pointed out certain depressions in the marble, which in no light could be detected by the sight, yet were plain to the touch as the hand moved over the smooth surface. 'Moltissime dolcezze,' he called them; and then his eye travelled over the figure, as if in one look he would possess himself of its sum.