“Tvrbvl—monsieur,” he said, coming nearer to me and lowering his voice, for fear that some other than myself might hear—“read tvrbvlneræ.”
“I don’t understand any better.”
“Listen. About a league from here, at the foot of the mountain, is a village called Boulternère. That name is a corruption of the Latin word Turbulnera. Nothing is more common than such inversions. Boulternère, monsieur, was a Roman city. I have always suspected as much, but I have never had a proof of it. Here is the proof. This Venus was the local divinity of the city of Boulternère; and this word Boulternère, whose antique origin I have just demonstrated, proves something even more interesting—namely, that Boulternère, before it became a Roman city, was a Phœnician city!”
He paused a moment to take breath and to enjoy my surprise. I succeeded in restraining a very strong inclination to laugh.
“It is a fact,” he continued, “Turbulnera is pure Phœnician; Tur, pronounced Tour—Tour and Sour are the same word, are they not? Sour is the Phœnician name of Tyre; I do not need to remind you of its meaning. Bul is Baal; Bal, Bel, Bul—slight differences in pronunciation. As for nera—that gives me a little trouble. I am inclined to believe, failing to find a Phœnician word, that it comes from the Greek word νηρός, damp, swampy. In that case the word would be a hybrid. To justify my suggestion of νηρός, I will show you that at Boulternère the streams from the mountain form miasmatic pools. On the other hand, the termination nera may have been added much later, in honour of Nera Pivesuvia, wife of Tetricus, who may have had some property in the city of Turbul. But on account of the pools I prefer the etymology from νηρός.”
And he took a pinch of snuff with a self-satisfied air.
“But let us leave the Phœnicians and return to the inscription. I translate then: ‘To Venus of Boulternère, Myron, at her command, dedicates this statue, his work.’”
I had no idea of criticising his etymology, but I did desire to exhibit some little penetration on my own part; so I said to him:
“Stop there a moment, monsieur. Myron dedicated something, but I see nothing to indicate that it was this statue.”
“What!” he cried, “was not Myron a famous Greek sculptor? The talent probably was handed down in the family; it was one of his descendants who executed this statue. Nothing can be more certain.”