'A large black woman, more than half naked, saving your presence, Sir, all of copper; and Monsieur Peyrade told us that it was an idol of the heathenish times—of the time of Charlemagne, may be!'
'Ah! I see what it is; some good virgin in bronze from a ruined convent.'
'A good virgin! ah! yes indeed. I should have known it soon enough, had it been a blessed virgin. No, no; it is an idol, I tell you; you can see that well enough by its looks. It stares upon you with its great white eyes. They say it will stare you out of countenance. One is forced to cast down his eyes when he looks at it.'
'White eyes? no doubt they are inserted in the bronze; this must be some Roman statue.'
'Roman! that's it; Monsieur Peyrade said it was a Roman. Ah! I see you are a learned man; just such another as he.'
'Is it in good preservation? perfect?'
'Oh yes, Sir, nothing is wanting. It is handsomer, and better made than the bust of Louis Philippe of painted plaster, which stands in the town-hall. But for all this, the face of this idol does not please me. She has got a wicked look; and in fact, she is so.'
'Wicked? why what trick has she played you?'
'Not exactly on me; but you shall hear. Four of us went to work to set her upright; and Monsieur Peyrade, he too must pull at a rope, although, worthy man! he hasn't much more strength than a chicken. With a good deal of trouble we at last got her straight up. I took a piece of tile to keep her steady, when patratas! down she comes headlong, all in a heap. I sung out: 'Take care below!' but not quick enough, however, for Jean Coll hadn't time to pull out his leg.'