“Behold that small copy of the Faun of Praxiteles,” said Gyges, when they had arrived before the sculptor’s shop. “Yonder is a copy of the Venus of Cnidus and the Hermes of the same sculptor. But look at this Ares! What a creation of beauty!”
“Oh, what grace, what action!” exclaimed Psyche.
“Ay,” assented Gyges, “’tis full of life. How alive and quick are the legs and arms! What sensuous grace, what soft outlines! Yet how heroic! ’Twas carved by a Greek. The Romans carve only fortunes and kingdoms.”
“But tell me, why is it not sold?” asked Psyche.
“I know not. Three months have I seen it there, begging its price. But tastes have changed, O Psyche. Busts of the Divine Augustus are now sought. Then, too, the statues of Tiberius when he was a lad are in demand; for his now hideous face was once handsome. Didst thou ever see the emperor, my Psyche?”
“Not closely, my Gyges. Gannon says he is ugly.”
“The emperor may despise the games at the circus and the gladiatorial combats,” said Gyges, “but ’twould have been better if he had loved them more. Probably his face would not now show the results of his dissolute life. The stories about him that are slyly circulated in the circus are terrible, though we are not allowed to speak of him disrespectfully. Only yesterday my stable-boy, Aldo, a lad only fifteen years old, was lashed ten times for using the name of Tiberius in an oath. Times have changed, O Psyche,—but we are happy. In a few days thou shalt be the mistress of a new home. Tell me, what dost thou wish most for a present?”
“Ah, my Gyges, thou understandest thy horses better than thou dost a woman’s heart. Joy is lost in knowing beforehand what gift will be received.”
“Be it as thou wilt, O Psyche. Some days ago I told thee that I bought a house. To-day that house is ready to receive its mistress. Shall we go there now?”
“O my lover, I have been burning with curiosity since that day! Nothing would be more pleasing than to go there now,” said Psyche, trembling with joy at the prospect of seeing her future home.