"There were several."
"Yes, but the chief one was Vulcan. Should one not rather say, 'In spite of all thy beauty and thy scornful manner, thou shalt have for thy lover a blacksmith, a hideous cripple'? What a profound moral, Monsieur, for flirts!"
I could hardly help smiling at this far-fetched explanation.
"Latin is a difficult tongue, because of its concise expression," I remarked, to avoid contradicting my antiquarian friend outright; and I stepped further away to see the statue better.
"One moment, colleague," said M. de Peyrehorade, seizing me by the arm, "you have not seen everything. There is still another inscription. Climb up on the pedestal and look at the right arm." And saying this, he helped me up.
I held on to the neck of the Venus unceremoniously, and began to make myself better acquainted with her. I only looked at her for a moment, right in the face, and I found her still more wicked, and still more beautiful. Then I discovered that there were some written characters in an ancient, running hand, it seemed to me, engraved on the arm. With the help of spectacles I spelt out the following, whilst M. de Peyrehorade repeated every word as soon as pronounced, with approving gesture and voice. It read thus:—
VENERI TVRBVL ...
EVTYCHES MYRO
IMPERIO FECIT.
After the word TVRBVL in the first line, I thought some letters had been effaced; but TVRBVL was perfectly legible.
"What do you say to that?" asked my host, radiantly smiling with malice, for he knew very well that I could not easily extricate myself from this TVRBVL.
"I cannot explain that word yet," I said to him; "all the rest is easy. By his order Eutyches Myro made this great offering to Venus."